“Like in the woods? With a bow and arrow and a loincloth?” Darla says hopefully.
I choke on my tea at the mental image of Griffin in a loincloth, while he thumps me on the back. The rest of the women are all doing various forms of fanning themselves, licking their lips, and undressing him with their eyes.
“Not exactly.” He takes a slow sip of his coffee, deliberately dragging it out before he answers. “I’m a bounty hunter.”
Dead silence.
“A what?” Helen’s teacup clatters on its saucer, mouth gaping.
“Oh my God, Seriphina Joseph. You have a bounty hunter in your loft.” Darla clutches Katherine’s arm practically vibrating with excitement.
Marci leans forward, setting her tea down like the situation finally got interesting.
Esther recovers and points a finger at him. “That explains the muscles, and the gun.” She turns to me with a knowing look. “And the bruises.”
I tense hard enough for Griffin to notice. I knew I should have worn long sleeves. I keep my eyes on the floor, struggling to find a logical explanation. One that doesn't have anything to do with sex or assault. Before anything logical occurs to me, my brain shifts and shoves me right into the alley.
Griffin’s grip on his coffee cup tightens, his expression carefully blank, storm-gray eyes flicker between me and Esther. He leans forward, palm resting on my thigh, squeezing gently to ground me in reality.
“Esther.” He commands with a quiet authority that makes the entire group go still. “She got those bruises fightin’ off a man twice her size when he tried to steal from her shop.” He lets that sink in. “And trust me when I say he left lookin’ worse.”
Darla gasps, Katherine reaches across to squeeze my hand, and Marci narrows her eyes at him like she can see everything he doesn’t say.
I word a silent ‘thank you.’ He squeezes my thigh again. And for a moment, the rest of it falls away and I’m able to breathe.
Darla shifts into mother hen mode. “Oh sweetie! Why didn’t you say something?” Her outrage is real and protective, making me feel cared for in a way I’ve been missing since my parents died. She points a finger at Griffin. “And I suppose you stepped in?”
Marci watches him with narrowed eyes.
“Not exactly.” He shrugs. “She was dealin’ with him fine on her own. I just finished it for her.”
Darla looks torn between admiration and horror, while the rest of the group looks awed. Griffin sips his coffee, while Marci’s expression shifts from mildly curious to outright assessing.
“He was passing by when it happened. And he gave me a place to stay at his cabin in the mountains for a couple weeks, to relax for a bit.” I carry on the lie but my voice trembles. Which probably only sells it more to the concerned group of women surrounding us.
“Figured she needed somewhere quiet to recover after that mess.” His thumb rubs my upper arm, holding Marci’s gaze as if daring her to press for details. Thankfully, she doesn’t.
Darla, acting leader of the group, makes a soft sound of sympathy before reaching across and squeezing my hand. “Oh honey, we had no idea. You should have called one of us.”
“By the time I thought about it, we were already settled in and distracted.” I lie again. “I was okay, really.” Next time I go off grid, I should really leave a note.
“Oh yes, I can imagine how distracted you were.” She glances back and forth between the two of us, grinning. “My oh my, Seriphina Joseph. I knew you had it in you.”
Griffin snorts into his coffee. For a guy who carries his shadows like an impenetrable cape, he’s weirdly right at home in the middle of the Biddies Gossip Club and their shenanigans. Although everyone seems to accept his explanation, Marci is watching him carefully, not buying the whole heroic bystander line.
He clears his throat, tilting his head toward me. “Alright, alright. Enough interrogatin’.” He stands up, holding his hand out to me. “Sunshine, didn’t you say somethin’ about overdue work?”
The ladies pout while I take his hand and let him pull me up off the couch. They whisper to each other as he follows me over to the counter by the cash register.
“I need grandkids like that, yesterday!”
“I’m not having kids! I already told you that, Helen.” I fire over my shoulder, greeting a customer with a smile and a nod.
Helen throws her hands up, muttering something about ‘wasted genetics’ while the rest of the ladies laugh. The conversation shifts from me and Griffin, to their usual chatter about the goings on around town. Darla shakes her head watching us fondly like she’s already planning out our wedding before turning back to the group.
“You good?” He leans in, resting his hand on mine.
I lace my fingers through his. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to tell them. Our ‘how did you meet?’ story gets pretty dark.”
