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My hair.

My eyes.

My ridiculous polka-dotted dress.

Me.

“Most things.”

A shiver runs through me. I should probably be irritated.

Instead, something warm blooms inside my chest.

Gratitude.

Which is strange.

I'm perfectly capable of handling two teenagers.

Eventually.

Probably.

But he saw what was happening.

He saw me struggling.

And he stepped in. Simply because he didn't like someone disrespecting me.

I can't remember the last time a man did that.

Certainly not any of the blind dates Dora set me up with.

The actuary probably would've calculated the statistical probability of teenage insubordination and made a chart.

I look up at Grimm.

Tall.

Dark.

Powerful.

Mysterious.

Absolutely nothing reasonable about him.

And my knees? Yeah.

They're feeling a little weak.

Damn it.

Chapter Three

Dora is never going to let me hear the end of this. Assuming I tell her. Which I won't.

Probably.