“Not if you don’t let her.”
Chapter 11
Griffin watched the riotous emotions chase across her face. She gulped hard, and then turned away, searching the small, rustic eatery. “Oh, look, a jukebox.” Her face lit up. “Can we play something?”
How could he refuse her when she smiled like that? “Sure.” He slid out of the booth. Following her to the corner where the old music machine stood, glowing with colored neon, three thoughts sliced through his mind. First, he couldn’t believe he let his guard down with her, opening up about his father. Never had he revealed that secret to anyone. Somehow, she understood his pain. Second, she was adorable and sexy at the same time. He blew out a hot breath, trying to ease the heat building inside him. And last, he’d do anything to protect her from her own mother; he refused to allow his pixie a life trapped in hell.
When they reached the jukebox, she ran her finger down the glass. “What do you suggest?” she asked.
He moved closer. In low-heeled boots, she barely reached his shoulder. The scent of her hair drifted to him. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring it. Looking at the screen again, he could see their reflection; mere inches separated them. If she leaned to her left, she could brush against him. “Lady’s choice,” he said, low and deep.
Her shallow breaths stirred the banked fire in him. “I have no clue.”
Was she just talking about the song choice or something else?
“What’s your favorite song?”
“I don’t even know that. Mother forbade anything but classical music, and that was only on rare occasions or for lessons.”
“Lessons?”
“I stink at piano.”
He chuckled. “Mark an X across that for my house then.”
Snapping her fingers, she said, “Shucks, and that was on top of my to-get list.” She giggled and nudged him in the rib. “Hey, we could get a jukebox, though.”
Her simple little gesture felt like a hot poker coursing through his blood. She’d started the flames spreading. “Maybe,” he granted, trying to stem the wave of desire. Reaching in his pocket, he tugged out a couple of quarters and dropped them in the machine. “Six picks. I’ll help you.” Griff pointed to one, and then a second. “Push this letter and number. This one, too.”
“Like this?” she asked, following his advice.
He murmured in her ear. She trembled. With his other hand, he reached out, touching her back and settling his hand on her waist. Another quiver shot through her. This time he groaned softly.
“I’m not sure if I can do this,” she whispered.
Both of them knew she wasn’t talking about music. “Lady’s choice,” he said again, telling her the decision rested with her.
“Thanks,” she said in a low, sultry voice that drove his temperature even higher.
***
In a heated daze, Griffin watched her expression change as swift and hypnotizing as waves crashing on a beach as each song came on. “Like it?”
She giggled. “This is great! How could I have not heard this before? I have been so deprived.”
“It’s classic rock.”
“I love it!” Her beautiful cat-green eyes shone with delight.
A warmth in his chest seeped into a crack in an old ache. No, don’t let her get to you, he warned.
“That was delish,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin and pushing aside her empty plate. “You’re right, the best burger in town.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun.” He was, too, surprisingly.
The waitress arrived with a check, waving it. “Will this be all or do you want to try some peach cobbler?”
Priscilla shook her head. “No thanks, I’m stuffed.”
“Chocolate cake, to go?” he asked Priscilla, recalling the first night he’d met her and her request to Charlie for chocolate ganache cake.
“Can we?”
He nodded to the waitress.
“Coming right up.”
“Powder room,” Priscilla said as she slid out of the booth.
He watched her walk away, biting down on another groan. Could she be any sexier?
Her phone buzzed again. Looking up, he watched her turn the corner and disappear. Griffin reached out and picked up the sparkly pink cell phone. The word Mother lit up the screen. After a moment, it stopped. With his thumb, he scrolled through the dozen messages, all from her mother. Fire burned in his belly. How could she be cold and mean to his pixie? Without a second thought, he deleted each and every one.
Now if only he could get rid of the real-life woman as easily.
***
Turning off his motorcycle, Griffin helped Priscilla off the back, already missing the feel of her pressed up against his back, her arms wrapped around him, and the length of her thighs pressed along his. Within moments, they’d shed their helmets and he got off of the bike. He dug the to-go box out of the black leather saddlebag and handed it to her.