“And I want one there!” Lauren spits back. “Now shut up and go away before you wake up Charlie. I swear I will call the police if you don’t.”
She shuts the door firmly in my face.
18
Sadie
Ican’t stop smiling. I’ve been doing it since the second I realized where Griffin was taking me, and I probably won’t stop smiling for days. I run my hand over the soft neck of Triscuit, the stunning golden colored horse I’m riding. Griffin is on a bigger mottled gray horse named Zeus.
“Zeus is treating you well,” I remark. “And you look less stressed, so you must be getting the hang of it.”
“Horseback riding wasn’t stressing me out,” he replies and gives me a smile, but it’s more guarded than his previous smiles. I wonder if he’s lying to me to appear tough or cool or sexy or something. The truth is, even if he admitted he was scared of riding, he would still be sexy AF to me. Sitting on top of that horse in a black T-shirt that shows off his tight torso, broad chest, and bulging biceps, he still looks so hot I want to jump him, even with the wrinkled brow and tense jaw.
“I can’t believe you planned this,” I say, still in awe. I mentioned to him on that very first date that I loved horses and didn’t expect him to think twice about it. But he did, and here we are on a ridge over looking the Pacific, riding two beautiful beasts as the sun gets ready to set. Last night at the beach was perfection, but this…this is heaven. “This is the best date I’ve ever had. Ever.”
He moves Zeus closer to Triscuit and leans his body toward mine. “And I’m just getting started,” he promises. I lean toward him so our lips can connect.
“Wait a second,” I say when our kiss ends and pull my cell out of his pocket. “Let’s commemorate this.”
If I thought he looked stressed before, I was wrong. Now he’s nothing but tension oozing out of every sexy pore on his face. He’s clenching his jaw so tightly I’m surprised I can’t hear his teeth creak under the pressure. “I don’t do social media.”
“What?” I ask.
“I just…” He sighs. “I don’t put pictures of me on social media. I don’t let people. I just…I’m not into that.”
“I don’t do social media either,” I explain, suddenly feeling embarrassed that I might have done something wrong. “I had Instagram for like five minutes and got DM’d by every puck bunny on the planet trying to get my brother’s info. So I got rid of it. And Facebook and Twitter.”
I watch his shoulders relax just a little. I start to put my phone away. He reaches over and grabs my wrist to stop me. “It’s okay. Sorry. I’m just over-cautious. Because of Charlie.”
He smiles. It’s slightly more relaxed than any smile he’s given me all day. “I get it. You don’t want her seeing anything that would upset her online. I understand.”
“But take it. Of us. For us,” he urges and leans closer to me again, letting go of my wrist so I can lift the phone and snap the selfie.
It’s the perfect shot of us with the ocean and the setting sun over his shoulder, casting a golden glow on us that no photo filter can replicate. He examines it on my screen. “We look good together.”
We do. But I’m feeling a little guarded after his reaction, so I just nod and put my phone back in my pocket. Ten minutes later I’m saying goodbye to Triscuit, and Griffin is chuckling. “What? We formed a real bond.”
I go back to nuzzling his nose. With a final pat of his mane, I start to walk away. Impulsively, I reach over and hug Griffin. He’s stiff, but he hugs me back. “Thank you for this.”
“Seeing your face light up was thanks enough,” he replies. “And now for dinner.”
We get in his car, and he drives us over the Golden Gate. I wonder if we’re going back to his place for dinner. I wouldn’t mind that in the least, because I’ve already decided I’m having him for dessert, and that’s how dinner at his place ended last time. Only this time I want more than great oral. I want great sex.
“Want a hint of where we’re going?” he asks. I nod, so he turns on the radio and flips the Sirius XM to a country station. I raise my left eyebrow at him, intrigued.
Fifteen minutes later we’re pulling to the curb in front of a dilapidated building that looks like a roadhouse—the kind where people go in and don’t always come out. But this place has valet parking, so it can’t be too sketchy. I look up at the flickering neon sign and laugh. “Pickled Biscuits Brew House.”
“I’ve never been, but it’s supposed to be the best honky-tonk in San Francisco,” he explains as his full lips part in a wicked grin and he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “I hope you like barbecue, because they’re supposed to have the best in the West.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I declare. I almost skip to the entrance I’m so excited.
Inside, the place is a trip. Everything is knotty pine—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bar. The only other décor are cowboy hats of all shapes, sizes, and colors hanging on the walls over booths and behind the bar. And as soon as I inhale, I start to salivate. Griffin lets out a grumbling groan. “It smells like heaven. Unless you’re a vegan.”
I laugh. “This is enough to turn a vegan’s mind or at the very least make them weep.”
We sit at a booth near the back, because it’s the only one available. The place is fairly full, and by the time our food gets here, all the tables are taken and it’s standing room only. There’s a band setting up on the small stage by the bar as we devour the Road House Sampler we ordered, which has a little bit of everything, including their weird but delicious assortment of pickled vegetables. I eat like it’s my last meal, enjoying the hell out of it, and so does he. He also seems to be enjoying me, which I like. His eyes are devouring me while I devour the last rib and then pop another pickled radish in my mouth before licking the rib sauce off my fingers.
“Who knew pickled radish was so delicious?” I ask, trying not to feel self-conscious under the weight of his stare.
