Sonnet punched out for the day and found Griffith leaning against the security desk, chatting in low, friendly tones to Max. Griffith’s eyes brightened when he saw her.
“Hey, high speed. How was your—”
She put a hand on her hip and glared at them both. “You don’t want to know about the day I had.”
Max grinned at her knowingly, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Uh-oh. I’ve seen that look before. Bad one?”
Sonnet sighed. “Hi, Max. Honestly? I feel like someone took my feelings and guts, chopped them in a meat grinder, whirled them in a blender, and then served them on a plate with a side of tasty mashed potatoes and gravy.”
Griffith smirked, and walked her out. The shift she’d covered ended an hour later than her usual one, and the sun had started to rise. “Yeah? I bet I can out-day-from-hell you.”
She snorted. “I’d love to see you try.”
As they made their way to his car, he said, “Try this on for size. During the confidence course the day before yesterday, I fell twice and almost blacked out because I was so tired. After lunch, the other cadets and I were in the middle of some down time, and they nagged me to imitate my training sergeant, because I get his voice right. I did, and I got into it. I had fun and said all kinds of things like, ‘pain is weakness leaving the body, people,’ and, ‘I may look like I have a bug up my ass half the time, and I do, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care.’”
She laughed. His imitation was pretty damn funny. “Does he really speak like that?”
“The guy sounds like he has a pack of Marlboro’s for breakfast and a shot of whiskey at every meal. Anyway, everyone goes quiet, I turn around, and he’s standing right there, with this murderous look.”
Sonnet realized her mouth had fallen open, and closed it. “Okay. That is a close contender to the amount of shit I went through tonight. How about we call it a draw. You, um, you want to stop somewhere and grab some comfort food and a Kung Fu movie? We could grab a Red Box. I need to unwind before I crash.”
Griffith unlocked his car with his key fob and opened the passenger door for her. “Now you’re talking.”
* * * *
Sonnet had her second follow-up appointment with Kate the following afternoon at a nearby park. Puffy clouds scattered across the light blue sky, and the leaves on the trees were different hues of brown, red, orange, and yellow. After a great hug, they sat on a bench overlooking the man-made duck pond. Kate took out a box of chocolates and lifted the lid. She held out the box to Sonnet.
“I figured we should break out the goodies while we talk.”
Sonnet grinned, and selected a truffle. “Girl, I’m not about to stop you.”
“So, how did the first day go after Griffith moved in?”
“Good…nice.”
“Have you been able to sleep at all? Are you still having trouble?”
“I slept like a log when I got off my shift yesterday. Of course, that might be from staying awake all night when I didn’t have to be, but yeah, I’ve gotten more sleep in the last few days.”
“And are you doing okay with being back at work since what happened in the parking lot?”
Sonnet rifled around and found another chocolate. “Yeah. Griffith installed a security system in my house, and work keeps me preoccupied, so I don’t have a chance to even think about it. The only time I really dwell on it is when I’m going to my car after my shift, but Griffith’s always there, so…”
Kate put her elbow on the back of the bench and leaned her head into her hand. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you foresee, if anything, happening with him?”
Sonnet shrugged. “I’ve sort of just let him in, so much that he’s a part of my life now.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Kate suggested. Then the conversation turned to less difficult topics like Star Wars, and funny stories from the ER.
On her way home, Sonnet couldn’t shake off the feeling that Kate was right. While Sonnet knew her flaws, including being über-focused on where she wanted her career to go, if she’d known the type of person Griffith was, she’d have asked him to move in sooner. Hell, she’d have dragged him home the night he asked about the vacancy. She’d been a snob in the beginning and regretted it. There was so much more to him than met the eye.
The fear of living alone was gone, and Sonnet loved knowing there was a man in the house.
A man who could and would protect her.
* * * *
The ER was packed with people and problems the following night.
Dr. MacIntyre called Sonnet to help with an incoming emergency, and she ran with him to the ambulance entrance when a trauma arrived. The EMT who met them was pale and ashen-faced, which in their line of work meant it had to be bad. He handed her his clipboard with the patient’s paperwork as his crew worked to move the stretcher out of the ambulance.
“She’s a little girl,” he said in a solemn timbre. “The neighbor’s dog got loose and he mauled her face. It’s…it’s pretty bad. She’s unconscious right now. I got a little girl her age at home, you know?”
Dr. MacIntyre moved toward the ambulance to assess the child. Sonnet put a hand to the EMT’s arm, and patted it as she read the patient’s name over the paperwork: Everly. “We’ll take good care of her. What happened to the dog?”
“The owner took him to animal control. They’ll put him down, there’s no question.”
“And the parents?”
He looked over his shoulder to a white minivan, which pulled in behind the ambulance. “That’s them.”
“Okay.” Sonnet headed over to the vehicle as, moving along with the stretcher, Dr. MacIntyre started working on the girl en route to the trauma room. The distraught young mother, with a pretty, tear-streaked face and hay-colored hair, opened the passenger door.
“Hi, I’m Sonnet. I’m going to be your daughter’s nurse,” she said in a soothing but professional voice. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to park just over there in visitor parking as we need this area clear for ambulances.” The father nodded, and drove away to park. “Can you follow me, please?” The mother’s name was Abby. “They’ve taken Everly back to our trauma room, and we have our best physician in there with her as we speak. Can you tell me what happened?”
Sonnet kept the woman talking to help distract her from her shock. She spoke with Abby at length in the waiting room and told her they would do all they could, and she would come check in as soon as she was able.
In the trauma room, Dr. MacIntyre finished the stitches on the child’s face. Everly was still unconscious. Sonnet approached the table, and gasped. She hadn’t been able to get a look at her before, but the child was beautiful—a miniature, angelic version of her mother.
Dr. MacIntyre looked over his shoulder. “Nurse Mendoza, come here and close these sutures for me then wash the blood off her. I’m going to go speak to the parents. Are they in the waiting room?”
“Yes, sir.” Sonnet took over the suture tray and leaned over the child. She had an IV in, and her vitals seemed fine. “Poor baby,” Sonnet murmured.
After the sutures were closed, ever so gently she cleaned off the child’s face and swore if she ever had children she’d watch them like a hawk.
“You’re good with her.” She turned to see Griffith leaning against the doorway. “You have a gentle touch.”
“Thanks,” she whispered as she wiped the girl’s forehead. “She’s so little. And so beautiful. It’s a shame she’s going to be scarred for the rest of her life.”
“Dr. MacIntyre passed me in the hall and wanted me to tell you to go to his office after.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Did he say why?”
“No, he just said to tell you.”
“Okay, thank you.” As she passed him, Griffith gave her shoulder a squeeze.
She was at Dr. MacIntyre’s office door, her hand lifted to knock when he yelled, “Mendoza. Get in here.”
She’d heard him sound angry before, but it in the middle of trying to save someone’s life. But this was different. His face was flushed and pinched. She stopped a few feet in front of his desk. “Is there a prob—”
“Are you a kindergarten teacher?” he snarled.
“Wha—”
“Do you want to bake cookies for your class?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t underst—”
“You’re a nurse. I needed a second aid in there, and you were chit-chatting with the mother while I needed someone to help me stitch fucking sutures.”
“I-I was consoling her. She was in shock.”
“You’re not there to be a damned therapist, Mendoza, you’re here to work and do your job.”
“I was doing my job,” she bit back. “I thought with Trey in there you’d be fine—”
“Trey isn’t as fast as you are, and he doesn’t do sutures as well. The next time we get a patient in here, especially a child, our duty is to work on the patient, not pamper the parents.”
Her anger boiled, but she set her face and stayed still. Don’t lose your cool. Don’t blow it. She had a laundry list of things to say to him, but she balled her fists and kept her mouth shut.
“Do you understand, Nurse Mendoza?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
This time she didn’t run off and cry, she fumed.
A while later, she met Griffith on a bench outside beneath a lamppost, and handed him a lunch she’d packed for him.
He sniffed the sandwich wrap. “What’s in here?”
“Turkey and avocado.” She peeled her orange. “All the things a growing boy needs. I even put in a few bacon bits because I like you so much.”
He bit into it and inhaled. “Oh, you are incredible, Sonnet. It’s good. Really good. Thank you.”
She ate an orange slice, its flavorful juices bursting inside her mouth. She sucked the outer skin as pleasant tangy bursts touched her tongue. Such a sinful fruit. To hear him call her incredible while he moaned through each bite wasn’t helping her put the genie back in the bottle.
For years she’d suppressed her hormones, her desires, her interest in men. And while she wasn’t complaining—the academic results were worth it—now that she’d found Griff, there was no turning off the faucet.
She didn’t want to, and she wouldn’t.
She wanted him.
Bad.
They ate in silence for a while, then Griff set his sandwich down and crumpled a napkin in his hands. He looked away. His posture had an edge to it.
“What?” She nudged his arm. “You’ve been moody since you got up.”
“There’s this guy…in my academy class. Simmons. You know how you can tell if there’s something off about someone?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we all had to go through psychological exams to get into the academy. It could be just me, but I don’t think so. This guy gets these expressions on his face that make me wonder what’s going on in his head, ya know?
“Yesterday, after a class on highway patrol code, we had to sit through these videos that showed traffic stops gone wrong, where the officers get attacked and shot. It was some pretty heavy stuff. Simmons sat next to me, and even though the lights were switched off, something caught my eye and I glanced over at him. We’d just watched this officer get shot on his dash cam, and Simmons had this sick twist on his lips, like he enjoyed it. It made me want to puke.”
“Did you tell your training sergeant?”
“I didn’t have time. They smoked us after the class, and made us run a couple miles. It’s a standard part of training, but by the end of the day I was so wiped out, I’d forgotten about it.”
“You should say something. It doesn’t seem normal to smile at a time like that.”
“He’s done it other times, too. On the firing range, during physical training and detaining classes. I know I should have talked to my sergeant. I want to. This close to graduation though, I would have thought they’d noticed it.”
“And he had to take a psych exam?”
“Three of them. We all did. It was a pre-req for getting into the academy in the first place.”
“Wow…do you think he’s dangerous?”
“I don’t know. You get some interesting characters in the academy and on the force. It’s hard to tell if he’s messed in the head, or just has a sick sense of humor. Sometimes you have to in our line of work. It’s how certain people deal with it.”
“Either way, if you feel like there’s something not right with him, I’d say something. He doesn’t sound normal.”
Griff gnawed on his bottom lip, and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll talk to my sergeant in the morning. So, what’s up with you? You seemed a little cranky when you met me at the security desk.”
“MacIntyre chewed me out. But the thing was, I believe I handled myself the right way with the patient. I think he was just stressed out and looking to dump it on me. But I’m worried. What if he turns me into some kind of scapegoat, and I lose my chances at going to Johns Hopkins?”
Griff took another bite of his sandwich then shook his head as though he’d stopped himself from saying something.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said with his mouth full.
“No, it’s not nothing. If you want to say something, say it.”
He looked at her, swallowed, then nodded. “Okay. I’ve thought about the whole MacIntyre situation. You need to put your head in the game and not be so concerned about his opinion every second. You’re a kickass nurse. I don’t know why you doubt it. It bugs me to watch you berate yourself. Stop trying to be a hero in front of MacIntyre. That’s what pissing him off, not you being incompetent.”
“Well jeez, Griff, don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”
He smirked. “You know what I mean. The more you focus on what you’re doing, rather than if you’re perfect at every turn, the less you’ll drop the ball because you won’t be worried about it. You’ll be focused. And if he gives you a hard time, screw him.”
Sonnet smiled. “Screw him?”
Griffith pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not literally. Just give it back to him. I’ve had this before with my superior officers, both in the military and in the academy. He’s testing your water to see what you can and can’t take. You want to prove something? Prove you can hold your own in the right way. That’s what he’s looking for.” He stared at her, then ran his large hand through his hair. “I just—I know who you are, and what you’re capable of, and how much this chance means to you. I’d hate to see self-doubt drag you down.”
She reached over and touched his hand. “Thanks, Griff. You know what? I’m going to do it now.” She stood to leave, but as almost an afterthought, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His eyes shined beneath the soft overhead lamplight.
Sonnet strode straight to MacIntyre’s office. She had wild imaginings of busting down the door on the way back into the hospital with a go-to-Hell-Lady-Catherine Pride and Prejudice speech, but she took a deep breath and knocked instead.
“Enter,” he barked.
She opened the door and approached the desk. She kept her hands by her sides. “Look, sir, I am more grateful than I could say for this opportunity you’ve given me to work here and the possible entrance to Johns-Hopkins. All the same, I performed just as I should have done earlier with Everly, and you can’t tell me otherwise. I don’t know if you’re having a bad day or what, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to get my ass handed to me in a second, but I know I did a good job with her, and her family. I’m a good nurse, and I didn’t deserve to be talked to like that.”
The silence frightened her to death.
Dr. MacIntyre interlaced his fingers and leaned forward across the desk, and stared. It was the longest minute of her life, and she had second thoughts about Griffith’s advice.
“You done?”
Sonnet cleared her throat and straightened her posture, ready to be yelled at. “Yes.”
“Good. Keep working hard, don’t get cocky, and get out.”
She blinked, unable to process it.
“Did I stutter?”
“No, sir. Thank you.” She turned around, and as she left his office she sucked in her cheeks to stop the smile.
* * * *
Sonnet and Griffith fell into a routine of sorts over the next few weeks. True to his word, he was hardly there except for weekends, during which he slept like the dead. Mondays were the hardest because he had police academy all day, slept for four to five hours, then worked an entire shift at the hospital, and did another day at the academy all over again. She had no idea how he managed it.
At one point she asked him why he didn’t just shorten down his hospital shifts since his overhead was lower now. He’d told her that since he had a special security clearance at the hospital, he had to give four weeks’ notice, so he just planned to ride it out until graduation.
Her body had adjusted to the graves, but she tended to sleep a lot more to compensate. When Griffith was awake, Sonnet christened him Mr. Productivity. He’d fix things she had no idea needed fixing, and even surprised her one night by repainting the ceiling in the living room, which had some long-since faded and cracked areas.
His self-motivation inspired her. He brought a charged, bright energy to the house that hadn’t been there before. He had a knack for knowing when she wanted to talk, and when she wanted to be left alone to study. Papi had been more of a talker. He found beauty in conversation, and while she loved and missed his philosophical nature, there were moments when she needed time to herself, too. Griff got that.
She continued to do her workout three to four times a week, and when she put on yoga pants and a sports bra, he left her alone so she could do her thing, though twice, when she was in the downward dog position, she caught him frozen in midstride, his eyes on her ass.
And so what if she held it longer than she needed to?
She could corral her desire during the week, when he wasn’t there as often. She could compartmentalize the idea of him as just her roommate and pseudo-bodyguard when they were apart, and she fared all right when he was gone most of the time…but, it wasn’t easy when he was in the room with her.
The weekends were the hardest.
She loved the smell of him when he dripped with sweat as he did push-ups on the hardwood floor. More than once she had to leave the room after watching him under the guise of perusing a medical journal while curled in her favorite chair.
He was a quiet guy when he worked out—she could never stand those hard machismos at the gym who moaned and groaned with every bench press like they were dying or something—but when he’d met his limit, a labored grunt or two would slip past his lips in his exertion, and the raw, edgy moans triggered her fantasies.
They decided a few weeks in it would make more sense to carpool, and use his car to save on gas, since they both worked the same hours and her car needed a tune-up, anyway. When they got home in the mornings, he’d head straight for the shower, and she’d make him breakfast before she changed and went to bed. It was a small gesture of gratitude for all he did, and she knew it helped him out. The extra five minutes it took her was worth it for the large, warm hand he always placed on her back when he took his plate.
* * * *
She woke on a Friday afternoon to a yummy aroma. She put on her slippers and padded out in her pajamas. He stood at the kitchen counter, casual in his black workout pants and a white T-shirt.
“What are you making?”
“Sweet and sour chicken. Don’t look too impressed. It’s a helper meal from the box. How did your day go yesterday? You were so tired when we left, I didn’t ask.” He sliced the chicken breasts, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder.
Sonnet put her hands on her hips, and smirked despite how nasty it had been. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
“Let me put it this way. The patient’s chart read, ‘Thirty-two-year-old male patient with hair curling object lodged in and obstructing anal orifice.’”
Griffith winced and made a face. “Are you kidding me? A dude seriously put a curling iron into his—”
“Yeah, okay, you got the general picture.”
He guffawed. “And then some. Go take a shower, if you want. I’ve got dinner. Though I may need some eye bleach now with that picture in my head.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Griff.”
“No problem.”
The shower was lovely. She washed away the last lingering trace of the hospital, fresh and rejuvenated. When she’d lived alone, she’d stick something in the Crockpot before she left for work, and eat it for supper when she got home. It was nice to have someone cook for her for a change. Her papi had been a bit old school and couldn’t make anything beyond toast, so she’d done most of the cooking for the both of them after Abuela passed away.
She towel-dried her hair and put on some comfortable clothes, deciding at the last minute to change into a nice purple off-the-shoulder shirt she normally wore when going out with friends.
Griff had set the table, and even lit a few candles. Steamed asparagus spears and a soft dinner roll bracketed the sweet and sour chicken. Sonnet noted the folded napkins beneath the silverware. Nice. He pulled a chair out and motioned for her to sit.
“This looks great. Gracias.”
“De nada.” He tapped the table. “Notice anything different?”
She blinked as she took in the pretty spread, then she shook the table, but it didn’t move. “You fixed it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and he took his seat. “Yep. I got some wood-filler from the hardware store and fixed the bottom leg. I fastened on a new end to make it stable. The old one was bent for some reason.” He shook his napkin and laid it on his lap. “Oh, I changed the oil in your car while you were asleep. I noticed the warning light was on when we got groceries the other day. Hope you don’t mind. I figured it’ll save you a trip to Jiffy Lube. I’d like to winterize it tomorrow. I’ll get some coolant at the store, so it doesn’t die on you in the middle of nowhere.”
She wanted to grab him and kiss him ’til he couldn’t breathe. She settled for a sincere thank you as her heart filled with gratitude. This guy was a frigging angel.
She shook her head. “How are you this responsible? Like, how do you know all this stuff?”
He leaned forward “I never used to be. When I joined the marines, I was a pissed off, angry kid. I had a good drill sergeant who took me under his wing and set me straight about a lot of things.”
“What’s his name?”
“Drill Sergeant Black. Doug. He got called to active duty when I was on my first tour in Iraq, and we met up in Kabul, had a few beers. He got after me and made sure I was staying on the right path. Said he’d bust my balls if I wasn’t. I believed him.”
Sonnet smiled. “Do you still keep in touch?”
“Yeah. I need to send him my new address, but we write and email once in a while. He’s one of those guys like MacIntyre who acts like an asshole but has a heart of gold. One thing I’ll say for him, he knows a hell of a lot about how to knock the bullshit out of an angry young guy.” Griff looked off in the distance, then took a deep breath. “I owe him a lot.”
“He sounds great.”
“He is, but don’t tell him I said so.” He smiled and began eating.
He was tender with her, and she wondered at his gentleness. She’d seen him brusque and forceful when he’d dealt with angry people at the hospital, and she’d seen him furious and dangerous when she was attacked. He behaved as if there were two people inside him, the full-on protective male, and the sweet man who blushed when she kissed his cheek.
After he’d eaten a few mouthfuls he asked, “How’s it going in the ER?”
She paused with her fork midway to her mouth. “Pretty good. I feel like I’ve found my feet. As much as I’m going to anyway. Just take it one patient, one night at a time.”
“Awesome. You want a drink?”
“Sure.” She gnawed on her lower lip as she watched his shoulder muscles shift beneath his T-shirt as he reached for wine glasses from the cupboard. God, that body of his. She could watch him all day.
Down, girl. She cleared her throat. “So, not to sound like that Joey guy from Friends or anything, but how’re you doing? I hardly ever see you.”
He poured some wine and handed her a glass. His fingers brushed over hers as she took it, and a warm spark lit his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I’m still figuring it all out, too. Truth is, the closer I get to graduation the more I start to doubt myself.”
She frowned. “Why do you doubt yourself? You’re the most capable guy I’ve ever met.”
He took a seat. “Capable, not infallible. Sometimes…voices from the past catch up with me. It’s easy to get pulled out of the new life you’ve created and forget all you’ve done if you listen to those voices.”
She’d been curious about his past, given the scarce number of personal items he had when he moved in. She knew he worked out with some of his fellow academy buddies occasionally, and talked on the phone with some other marine friends, but overall he was a quiet guy. When she first met him, she wondered if he had a girlfriend since he was gorgeous. But with his schedule, she knew it would be impossible for him to spend quality time with a woman.
After taking a sip of a mellow Malbec, she set her glass on the table and asked, “What kinds of voices?”
He avoided her gaze. “My dad.” Griff took a drink, and shook his head as he peered into his glass. “I’ve learned there are two people you never forget in your life, the ones who fed you when you were hungry”—he saluted her with his glass—“and the ones who hurt you.”
Um, wow. Deep. Before she could dive into that emotional mess, he sat straighter and turned the conversation in another direction.
“Anyway, the guys at the academy all feel the same way. Nerves and first day on the job syndrome, I’m sure. This close to the finish line, it’s normal. It’ll pass.”
She let the heavy slide and kept to the surface topic. “You’ll do fine, Griffith. I believe in you.”
He covered her palm with his. One glance at the bottle told her he’d had some Malbec already, which made him looser than usual. “That’s all I need. So, are you still going to have the get-together on Thanksgiving you’d mentioned last night?”
“Yeah, next Thursday. Michelle and Gina are coming, and I figured the more the merrier, so I mentioned it to Trey, and he and Tiago said they’d pop on over. We could have some turkey, and let everyone get to know each other. I had planned to keep it low-key, but we might as well make it special for the holiday.”
“Hey, if you’re cooking, I’m there. We could get some ribs, too. I can fire up the barbecue out back.”
“God, it hasn’t been used in years.”
“It looks like it works. I’ll get some propane and test it tomorrow.”
She smirked. “Grill master Griff. That’s going on a T-shirt.” She realized his hand was still over hers. He glanced at it at the same time she did, and slid his palm away, but not before running his thumb over her hand. She lowered her eyelids as a pleasant shiver ran through her body. If a single innocent touch could get her going, what would it be like to actually kiss him?
Sonnet sighed into her wine glass, and avoided eye contact as much as possible.
Later on, more relaxed as she worked on her second glass of wine, she tucked her feet beneath her in her armchair and tried to study.
Griffith had a POST exam coming up, and sat on the opposite couch. He rubbed the ankle he’d crossed over his knee. She’d learned he did that when he was sore from working out too much. His movements were always stiffer, and he tended to groan when he sat. She’d noticed him rotate his right shoulder earlier as they took the dishes to the sink.
She broke the comfortable silence. “Do you want a heating pad or some aspirin?”
He shot her a grateful look. “That’d be great.”
She retrieved some Ibuprofen then heated a muscle-soothing pack in the microwave for a minute. She liked taking care of people; it was one of the reasons she’d been drawn to a career in medicine. At the end of the day, all anyone really needed was to know they were cared about, and to be treated with human dignity.
He set aside his exam manual, and moved to stand when she returned with the pack, but she held up a hand. “I’ve got it, just relax.”
A stray lock of her hair swayed into his face as she fixed the pack over his shoulder. She slid her finger along his collarbone as she draped the pack over him. Oh, to be able to explore that amazing chest with her palms. She paused when his hand closed over her wrist, and she realized she was still stroking his collarbone. One look at the longing in his eyes stole her breath. His pinky finger slid along her forearm.
She parted her lips and then froze. Dios mío, the way he looked at her…His eyes caught the light, glossy from the wine, but the naked emotion couldn’t be mistaken for anything but what it was. His gaze darted to her lips, and God, if he kissed her, she’d lose it and crawl into in his damn lap, hang on, and never let go.
Sonnet cleared her throat and blinked. She’d drunk too much. “D-d’you want to pop in a movie? I can make nachos. Tomatoes, caramelized onions, the whole works.”
Griffith sighed, and sat back with the pack on his shoulder. “Sure. I need to get my mind off the POST test and unwind.”
“Movie night it is. Pick something out and I’ll get the snacks.”
“Sonnet.”
“Yeah?”
“I have a surprise for you tomorrow. Can you keep your schedule clear between ten and noon?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Sure. I have the whole day free. Gina has to work tomorrow, so no girls’ night out unless you want to put on a wig and dress in drag.”
“As appealing as painting each other’s nails and braiding each other’s hair would be, I think I’ll take a rain check. But will you come with me tomorrow? I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
I can think of something else I’d enjoy with you, Griff.
“Of course. What will we be doing?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He leaned forward and placed the POST manual on the coffee table.
“All right, as long as we’re not jumping out of an airplane or bungee jumping.”
He smirked. “You’ll have to find out tomorrow.”
She retreated to the kitchen and clutched the counter. They’d almost kissed. He would have kissed her if she hadn’t pulled away.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She was torn. That was what was wrong with her.
Her focused had drifted far away from where it should be: on medical school and the ER. Every single cell and nerve ending in her body was drawn to Griff. She wanted him, but she wanted medical school. He was one powerful magnet, and she didn’t know if resisting him would help her chances of going to medical school or thwart her only chance at happiness.
Luckily he wasn’t a rom-com man and had picked a cool action-adventure movie. They sat on the couch about a foot apart, a plate of delicious nachos between them. She got him to do some pretty spot on impressions. His Samuel L. Jackson one had her in stitches. He may be a serious guy all around, but his impressions were funny as hell.
The crazy work hours caught up with her, and close to midnight, she began to nod off. She woke several times, in different positions. At one point her head rested on Griffith’s shoulder, and when she opened her eyes again he had his arm around her and her cheek pillowed against his steely-soft chest. The third time, she woke stretched out on the sofa with her head in his lap. The TV was off, and his fingers sifted through her hair. She kept her eyes closed, aware of his watchful gaze. She nestled her cheek into the warmth of his thigh with a contented sigh. He was quiet and still. He smoothed her hair, and his fingers massaged the back of her neck. Before she knew it, she fell into a deep sleep.
When Sonnet next woke, the clock on the wall pointed at three thirty. She was covered by an old afghan Abuela had made years ago, and a throw pillow had been placed beneath Sonnet’s head. Her cheek was warm, as though she’d just been touched. She sat up and blinked. A single lamp lit the room, and Griffith was sprawled in the armchair across from her, head tilted back and mouth open, fast asleep.
She swept a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. She closed the afghan around her shoulders and went to him. She bent lower so they were face-to-face.
“Griff?” she whispered. “Griff, are you awake?”
“Hmm,” he barely mumbled as his head lolled against the back of the chair. He was out of it and wouldn’t hear a word she said.
“Can I keep you?”
He breathed softly in response, and she moved closer to his lips before she chickened out.
The hell with it. He wouldn’t remember this.
She feathered a soft kiss against his full lips, and found it to be everything she dreamed of and more. She went in for a deeper taste, then froze. What was she doing? He remained fast asleep and unaware.
Hovering with her lips right over his, she blinked, then backed up, grabbed the rest of her wine, and fled into her bedroom.
He was out like a light and she knew he hadn’t even felt the kiss, but she had. Puta madre, she wanted him.
She downed the rest of her wine, and fell asleep with the feel of his lips burned into her brain, and her hand buried between her thighs.