A private jet for me.
A limo and ferry for him.
Andthis lovely two-story disaster. It was the icing on the cake.
Technically, the property was mine. I'd bought it a few months ago, intending to tear it down and build something decent in its place. And I would eventually – maybe to keep, maybe to sell, maybe to hold for a year or two while I planned my next move.
Regardless, Griff would be the final person to live here in its current form.
Did he know this?
Hell no.
He needed the wake-up call more than he needed the full story.
And me?Ineeded a laugh.
Call it a win-win.
But from the look on Griff's face now, he wasn't feeling like a winner.Eh, give it time.
He was holding the box of pastries and grimacing, like the act of holding it was giving him heartburn. I almost laughed. If he thoughtthatwas bad, he should look inside the box. Oddly enough,Ihad while Griff was passed out in the buggy.
Yeah. A buggy, pulled by actual horses. And why?
Because cars here weren't a thing.
But apparently, cranberrieswere, because a certain barista had stuffed the box full of them. Cranberry cookies. Cranberry muffins. And even some cranberry-frosted bagels. Or donuts. Under the frosting, it was hard to say for sure. Regardless, those tire-shaped things had been topped with enough cranberries to make raisins jealous.
It was fucking hilarious.
So now I knew what she'd been doing in the back.
Was I satisfied?
Not by a longshot.
Sure, that was one mystery solved, but there were still plenty to go, because I knew one thing for damn sure.
That barista wasn't what she seemed.
Here and now, Griff was giving me a funny look, like he was hoping I'd say,Just kidding,and hand him a keycard to a suite on Main Street.
Would I?
Not a chance.
Okay, Ihadrented a suite. But it wasn't for him. It was for me.
Would I be telling him this?
Nope.
He needed a reset, not a rescue. Or maybe the resetwasthe rescue, but hell ifI'dbe the one sleeping rough.
Mostly, I would be sleeping in Chicago. But I'd rented the suite for the whole month so I could come and go as I pleased. Call it a vacation. Call it business. Or call it a place to escape, because Griff wasn't the only person who could use a break from the city.
When Griff gave the boathouse another long, sullen look, I said it again to see if he'd twitch. "Home sweet home."
