My face goes nuclear. "Emma! You’re getting married!”
"What? I'm just saying, maybe you should explore those possibilities. For old time's sake."
Griff goes very still, his eyes locked on mine. “Knotting?”
“No,” I mumble, because apparently my filter has completely malfunctioned.
“Really?” his eyes widened.
Emma giggles like a teenager. “Exactly!”
Griff sets down his coffee mug and straightens away from the counter, and I'm suddenly very aware of how he fills up the kitchen space. How his presence makes the air feel charged and dangerous. Then he starts to head to the door.
“So let me get this straight. You both want to tie the knot with me?” he asks, pausing in the doorway.
I shake my head while focusing very intently on his belt buckle. And what's below it. "Nope."
Emma nods enthusiastically while staring at exactly the same spot. "Absolutely. If I wasn’t getting married….”
Griff follows our collective gaze downward, and when he looks back up, there's a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth that should be illegal in twelve states.
"Good to know," he says, and then he does something that makes my brain completely malfunction.
He struts out of the kitchen like he owns the world and knows exactly what effect he's having on both of us.
The moment he's out of earshot, Emma and I burst into laughter.
"Oh my God," Emma gasps, fanning herself with a dish towel. "Savannah, you are so screwed."
"I know," I groan, slumping against the counter.
"Like, completely and utterly screwed," Emma continues, setting down her coffee mug and leaning forward conspiratorially.
"I know," my voice muffled.
"And you're going to love every minute of it," Emma declares with a knowing grin.
I bury my face in my hands. "I know."
Emma grins, completely unrepentant, and reaches over to pat my shoulder. "If I weren't completely head over heels for my fiancé, Dax, and my pack, then I might be tempted to conduct some research of my own."
"You're horrible," I mumble through my fingers.
"I'm curious. There's a difference," Emma says, shrugging and taking another sip of her coffee.
"You're getting married in two months!” I exclaim, dropping my hands and staring at her in disbelief. I am relieved the invites have finally gone out, which is one thing off the list, but the guest count keeps creeping higher and there is still a mountain of wedding details waiting for us.
"To a man I adore," Emma agrees, waving her hand dismissively. "But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate when the universe puts a prime specimen right in front of me for educational purposes."
I shake my head, but I am fighting a smile. "You're insane."
"And you're in trouble. Good trouble, but trouble nonetheless," Emma says, pointing her coffee mug at me for emphasis.
She is not wrong. Between Griff's morning swagger display and my heat cycle approaching like a freight train, I am definitely in trouble.
Thank you, universe, for giving Emma a front-row seat to my complete loss of dignity over Griff's sleepwalking naked experience.
14
