Chapter 3

Anya

I forgot my notebook, so I turn my car around in the lot of Atta Boy, and park next to Griffin's truck. He's just about to leave, and I hop out.

He shuts off the ignition to his truck and steps out. "Forget something?"

"I'm glad you're still here. I thought I was going to have to wait until tomorrow to get my notebook." It really is ridiculous that Cal hasn't entrusted me with a key to the place yet, but I get it.

I'm an employee. Not an owner. This isn't my place.

Callum, Shep, Pax, and Griffin started this brewery with their own blood, sweat, and tears. I'm merely trying to enhance their vision.

Griffin opens the back door, and I follow him into the brewery. He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Do you really need the notebook tonight?"

I blush a little and together we walk through the brewery. "Busted," I say. "I wasn't planning on going home to sleep. I was actually going to think of ideas for the party this Friday."

Griffin offers a small laugh, and the sound of it vibrates through my bones. It sends chills skating down my spine. "I planned on doing the same thing. I was going home to work on the menu."

I feel horrible that Griffin is most likely exhausted from working all day, and helping us get the back room in order, and now he was planning on going home and working more. "You don't need to do that," I tell him.

He inches closer, and suddenly my mouth grows dry. I lick my lips, and for the first time since I've known Griffin, I realize how tall he is. How the top of my head would fit perfectly below his clavicle. That if he wrapped his strong arms around me it would probably make me feel just right. Or so I imagine.

What am I doing?

This is Griffin.

I should not be having these thoughts about him. I blame Willow for putting the idea in my head. For pointing out how good-looking he is. How have I never noticed before?

I mean, I've always known he's better looking than ninety percent of other men out there, but I have never noticed just how kind of gorgeous he is.

"I wanted to do it. I've got a lot of ideas."

I smile wide at the idea that Griffin is taking this project as seriously as me. It warms me up, making me feel all gooey inside.

Is that lame?

I know it is, but I can't help it. I'm happy to have his support, and apparently his attention. The way his eyes are laser-focused on me sends chills rushing over my skin. "What ideas?" I ask him, quietly.

His brown eyes darken momentarily, and I'd give anything in the world to know what he was thinking of at that very moment, but the second fades away and he pulls out a small notepad in his pocket. "I was thinking we could have three options. A filet option, grouper, and a vegetarian meal option. Maybe a pasta primavera."

"I think that's a great idea. It's a plated dinner for thirty people, so I want to make sure we pick things that won't kill your food costs."

Griffin raises a brow. "Let me worry about my food costs. I just want to make sure the guests are happy enough to tell their friends, and this private party thing works out."

"Thank you." I want to hug him. I want to fling my arms around his shoulders and squeeze him tight. However, I don't.

Griffin and I have never had that touchy-feely type of relationship. In fact, we don't really have anything, and I want to change all of that.

If we're going to be working together, I want to get to know him. He's practically an Atwood by association and I don't know much about him.

It's a shame, I think as I study his broad shoulders.

He takes off his chef's coat, and a tattoo peeks out from under the sleeve of his white shirt.

"Is that a tattoo?" I ask him, stepping closer to get a peek.

Griffin smiles, raising the sleeve of his shirt to showcase his artwork. "Yeah, got it a few years ago."

"Oh wow," I say, taking in the various chef's knives displayed in a design that wraps around his bicep. "I love it. You really love cooking, huh?"

Griffin drops his sleeve, letting it hide his tattoo, and leans against the railing of the stairs that lead up to the restaurant. "It was an escape for me growing up. I could take this handful of ingredients and create this masterpiece in the kitchen. It was almost like art."

"I burn toast," I admit to him.

"I'm sure that's not true."

I nod. "No, it is. I'm a disaster in the kitchen. During college I ate out for pretty much every meal. It's actually been kind of nice living back home and having my mother making home cooked meals every night."

"Yeah, your mother helped teach me how to cook a few things."

"Really? I never knew that."

When Griffin was most likely learning to cook at my house, I was probably busy playing with dolls in my room. Griffin's always been Callum's friend, and much older than me. But now, the four years spreading between us don't seem like much.

Griffin cracks a grin. "Yeah, I loved spending time at your house while I was in high school. It was like a second home." He glances down at his feet. "A better home, anyway," he says under his breath.

I don't push for more of that info, just file it away for later, because there's one thing I'm certain of…I want to know more about this man.

"It's weird being home again."

"I bet. But I'm sure your mother loves having you there."

I beam. "She does. A little bit too much. She's trying to cook for me all the time. I don't think she ever wants me to leave. I would like to learn to cook."

Griffin pushes forward, standing to his full height. "I can teach you."

I shake my head. "No, you're already way too busy, and I really think you and I have our hands full with the parties. I'm not a complete mess in the kitchen. I do make chocolates."

Griffin studies me for a moment. "You make those?"

"What? Have you had some?"

"Yeah, Callum has given me some, saying they're from home. I figured your mother made them. I really like the raspberry-flavored ones."

"Those are my favorites too. And yes, I make them."

"Wow, I'm impressed. You should make them for the parties. Wrap them, and you can give them out at the end of the party. Or have them on the place setting for when they sit down."

"I never thought of that." I smile, loving the idea Griffin's come up with. I glance at my phone, noticing the time. "We should get going. It's late." I hate keeping Griffin late, because I know he has to be back here bright and early tomorrow morning. I feel bad.

"Stay here. I'll run and get your notebook. What color is it?"

I shake my head. "No way." I rush up the stairs, and Griffin follows quickly behind. "I don't want you flipping through it."

He laughs. "Is it like a diary?"

I reach the landing, and make my way to the back of the restaurant to the room where the parties will be held. I swipe my pink notebook off the table and hug it close, breathing hard. "Maybe."

Griffin stands at the door, watching, waiting, leaning against the door jamb. A smirk graces his face, and he crosses his arms. "Now I'm intrigued."

"You're not going to read any of this." There's not much hidden in the pages of this silly notebook, but I love the way I've got his attention.

I walk closer to the door, and he takes up the whole of it. How will I get past him?

"Tell me one thing nobody else knows, and I'll let you pass," he says.

I blink up at him, thinking about what I could tell him. My heart races, and it's growing hot in here. "Umm, Willow told me that she thinks you're good-looking."

Griffin's eyes twitch ever so slightly, but I notice. "Willow's dating Lake. Try again."

"Okay, she did say it, but she said it because she thinks…" I can't believe I'm about to say this. "She thought you and I could date."

Griffin swallows, not saying anything, and I'm mortified.

I cut him off, wanting the awkwardness to disperse immediately. "But I told her that was crazy. You and I would never date." I laugh. "Could you imagine?" I ask, laughing more. I want to die. "Never never," I add on for good measure.

Griffin chuckles softly. "Yeah, never."