Before I could respond, a group of young women settled on loungers nearby, their gazes lingering on Griffin with obvious appreciation. One whispered to another, giggling behind her hand.
“You’ve got an audience,” I murmured.
Griffin tensed beside me, his easy demeanor shifting, becoming more alert and guarded. He put his sunglasses back on, angling his body slightly away from their view.
“Happens. Hopefully they’ll lose interest.”
“Does it bother you?” I asked. “Being recognized everywhere?”
“Sometimes. Depends on the day.”
“And today?”
“Today I’d rather not deal with it.” He turned back to me, something unreadable in his expression. “Today I just want to sit here with my daughter and not have to perform for anyone.”
The honesty surprised me.
“Fair enough.”
He nodded, some of the tension leaving his frame. The women nearby seemed to have moved on to other topics, their attention drifting away.
Griffin settled back into his lounger. “Where were we?”
“You were being annoyingly perceptive.”
His mouth quirked. “Ah, right. My favorite pastime.”
I reached for my drink, letting the condensation chill my fingertips. “You’re not nearly as mysterious as you think you are.”
His head turned slightly, one eye cracking open behind his sunglasses. “Oh?”
“You act like no one can figure you out, but really, you’re not that complicated.” I took a slow sip of water. “You love winning. You hate losing. You like attention, but only on your terms. You pretend nothing gets to you, but deep down, you care more than you let on.” I arched a brow. “Shall I go on?”
His lips twitched. “By all means. This is riveting.”
I set my glass down. “You push people away before they can get too close. You say things you don’t mean so no one looks too closely at what you do mean. And when you actually feel something, you pretend you don’t.”
Griffin hummed. “Interesting theory, but you’re wrong.”
My brow furrowed. “About what?”
Instead of answering, he pushed himself upright and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He leaned forward, closing the space between us inch by inch. The shift brought him too close, his body angled toward me, his face hovering just above mine, stealing the air between us.
I should have sat up, created distance before this became something dangerous.
But I didn’t.
Because his sharp and knowing gaze pinned me down, like he could see straight through every carefully constructed wall I’d built between us.
Because for one dizzying second, I thought he might finish what almost started on the plane.
And I didn’t know if I had the will to stop him this time.
His voice dropped lower, almost a murmur. “I don’t push you away.”
A shiver rushed through me.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stayed there, close enough that I could see the faint line of stubble along his jaw, the sun-lightened strands of his hair.
