A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “You’d take the fall for me?”
“Always have.” Cleo winked. “Always will.”
“Alright, ladies.” Griffin strode back into the entryway, spinning his keys around one finger. “As much as I’d love to give you more time to gossip about me, we have a reservation.”
I rolled my eyes, but my heart skipped. He looked unfairly gorgeous in a dark jacket and jeans that fit him perfectly.
Oh God, so we were seriously doing this? I swallowed hard. Some part of me still hoped the whole thing was a joke. But Griffin stared at me, his brows raised expectantly when I still hadn’t so much as stepped toward the door.
“Everything you need for Hazel is on the counter,” I said to Cleo and Imani. “I’ve pre-made bottles, she’ll be ready for bed by six, and if anything happens, call me immediately.”
“Vi,” Imani said gently, “we’ve got this. Go.” She nodded toward the door.
“But—”
“Seriously,” Cleo said. “If you don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’m physically shoving you out the door.”
Griffin chuckled. “I like your friends.”
“They’re monsters,” I muttered, but allowed him to guide me toward the door, his hand a warm pressure at the small of my back.
“Have her back by midnight, Prince Charming, or we turn into pumpkins!” Cleo called after us.
“Ignore her. She thinks she’s funny.”
My stomach fluttered with anticipation and dread twisted together. This night could be magical or disastrous.
Knowing my luck, probably both.
Griffin’s Aston Martin purred beneath us, the engine’s low rumble matching the nervous thrum in my chest. He drove with easy confidence, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear stick.
“You’re staring,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.
Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m not.”
His lips curved. “You are. Not that I’m complaining.”
I huffed, turning to look out the window at the passing city lights. “Where are we going?”
“Patience, Princess.”
“I don’t have any.”
He laughed, the sound rich and warm in the confines of the car. “I’ve noticed.”
We drove in silence for a while, the city gradually giving way to quieter streets. I snuck glances at his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the slight curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. He caught me looking again and winked, the cocky bastard.
“So,” I said, desperate to break the charged silence, “how did you convince Cleo and Imani to help you?”
“I asked.” He shrugged. “Turns out they’re quite protective of you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Griffin’s mouth twitched. “Let’s just say I had to pass a rather thorough background check. Your Cleo is particularly creative with threats.”
I groaned, imagining all too well what Cleo might have said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His fingers drummed the wheel. “It’s good that you have people who care about you that much.”
