~ Griffin Colson ~
SHE LOOKS GOOD WET. That's my first thought when she walks in. I’m standing in a dark corner, staking out my current bounty. But she doesn’t notice me because she’s glaring down at her broken umbrella, watching it drip on the floor. I have to suppress a laugh at her expression. It’s like it personally offended her. Apparently, the wind had a different idea about her staying dry. Not that I’m complaining. Her dress clings to her, showing off a voluptuous body that makes the front of my jeans grow tighter.
Rainy Days Bookstore is wedged between a bakery and an antique shop in Eastern Tennessee. It’s the type of building you see in most small downtown areas. Mom and pop shops with loft apartments looking out over the street. It’s quiet, quaint, and the perfect hiding spot for someone who doesn’t want to be found.
“Nice day for a walk.” I step out of the shadows and nod at the window.
The rain is coming down in sheets. She turns and my eyes meet hers. I can’t figure out if her irises are blue or green. They are distracting and unique like ocean tides before you're swept away by the current. Her brows pinch together as she takes inmy appearance. At six-foot-four, I’m used to getting reactions but there’s something different about the way she’s looking at me.
“The world doesn’t stop turning just because it rains,” she says.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” I tilt my head slightly. “Can’t say I’m unhappy about that at the moment.”
Her lips purse and her eyes tense like I’ve said the sky is green. I don’t understand why she’s confused. For me, this interaction made up for the hours I spent waiting for my skip to show.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” she states.
No, she wouldn’t have. I only arrived in town yesterday. I’m staying in a motel by the interstate. Once I have what I came for, I’ll leave again. Her eyebrows are still drawn together in a little crease that makes me want to rub my thumb over it.
“First time.” I glance at the books behind her, pretending to be interested in them. “Was lookin’ for somethin’, ended up here.”
“Looking for what?” Curious, she turns around to look at the shelf.
“Not sure anymore.”
I’m not looking at the books but the length of her as she faces away. She is earthly and radiant like she belongs in sunlight, abundant in luxurious softness that I want to sink my teeth into. Her dark brown hair is in a bun. An impressive owl tattoo on her upper arm stretches down into a half sleeve. But the set of angel wings that start at the top of her shoulder blades and end somewhere below the fabric of her open back dress, make me want to run my fingers over the lines. They are exquisite. It had to take hours.
“If you gave me an idea, maybe I could help you find something?” She turns back around and her teeth are worrying the piercing that sits perfectly in the middle of her bottom lip.
My body instantly reacts. Christ, now it’s my turn to look at her like a puzzle to solve. It takes me a minute to answer. “I don’t think what I’m lookin’ for you’re gonna find in here.”
I tear my gaze away from her before I give in to the urge to touch her in a way she probably wouldn’t appreciate. Instead, I look around the store and try to think of another topic to keep her talking. I’m not ready for the conversation to end. And for some reason unknown to me, I’m already mourning the moment she leaves.
“You got a favorite genre?”
“That depends.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you going to judge me for my answer?”
The effect that little action has on her cleavage tests my resolve. I consciously stop myself from looking at her breasts. “Only if it’s self-help.” The corner of my lip twitches.
She laughs. The sound goes straight through me. I stare at her mouth. What the hell is wrong with me? A laugh? I’ve never been turned on by a laugh before. And I’m not the kind of guy that people find funny. But right now I’d give up my day job and become a stand up comedian to hear that sound again.
“Fantasy romance.”
“You look like the type that wants to believe in happy endings.”
“And you don’t believe in happy endings?” Her nose wrinkles.
“Don’t really believe in endings, unless it’s the kind you don’t wake up from. Might start believin’ in beginnings though,” I drawl. Wanting to see her again, I hold out my hand. “Griffin Colson.”
She tilts her head to the side for a moment before taking it, hesitantly.
“Seriphina Joseph, my parents were hippies. Most people call me Seriph.” She lets go faster than I want her to.
“Seriph,” I taste her name in my mouth. I like the feel of it way more than I should. Everything in me is drawn to this woman. But I don't have time to think about that. I have a skip to apprehend. The rain lets up and unfortunately for me, she notices too.
“It was nice meeting you, Griffin. I hope you find what you were looking for.”
And just like that, she’s practically fleeing from me. And now, I’m more confused than she appeared to be. My skip exits the building across the street, drawing my attention away from her retreat. His attention lingers in the direction Seriph went. My chest tightens in a way I don’t recognize and I refuse to let myself wonder about it. Shaking my head, I walk out the door and fall into step behind him.
