Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,278

I’ve had lots of practice keeping a straight face when messing with Bristol.

“You like it?” I ask.

“Mmmhmmmmm.” She swallows her gag reflex. “I can see why . . . see why you guys loved it. It’s . . . so . . . so . . .”

“Good?” I supply.

“Yeah, it’s good.” She hands it to Amir like it’s burning her fingers. “I don’t want to take it all from you, Amir.”

“Oh, no, Bristol.” He pushes it back toward her. “You can have—”

“No, really.” She shoves it back to him, looking like she needs a barf bag. “Please take it.”

“I’m gonna head out then.” Amir bites the sandwich, closing his eyes in ghetto rapture. “Hmmmmm. Thanks for leaving me some, Bris.”

“Of course.” She laughs nervously, like she’s afraid she’ll have to down some more. “You keep it. You eat it . . . all of it.”

As soon as we hear the door close behind him, Bristol rounds on me.

“Oh, my God. Why did you let me eat that shit?”

My laugh bounces off the walls.

“That’s what you get for trying to hang with them hood boys. It’s definitely a meal we learned to love out of necessity.”

“Next time a warning would be nice.” She stretches up to grab a mug in the cabinet, smiling at me over her shoulder. “You ready for tonight? Are you gonna behave?”

“A rapper, a white supremacist, and a narrow-minded professor walk into a bar.” I cross my arms over my chest and shrug. “What could go wrong?”

“It’s my first time meeting Dr. Hammond.” She pours this morning’s coffee into a mug and pops it in the microwave. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be.” I scowl at the thought of introducing Bristol to Iz knowing how he feels about our relationship.

“You just leave the professor to me.” She reaches for the—holy shit.

The sugar.

I race over and slam my hand on the canister. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Um . . . making a quick cup of coffee?” She slides a perplexed look from my face to the canister. “It’s been a long day, and I just need a hit of caffeine to get through tonight.”

“It’ll just make you jittery.” I sound jittery as hell. I feel like the ring might glow through the canister and give itself away.

“I got up way too early. Someone woke up before my alarm and demanded sex.” She cocks a chiding brow. “Twice.”

“What can I say?” I lift and drop my shoulders. “A man’s got needs.”

“So does a woman. I need my coffee, and I take sugar. Move.”

“You can’t have this sugar because . . .” I twist my brain around until I stumble on a logical explanation. “Roaches.”

Judging by the horror on Bristol’s face, you’d think I said Nazis. “Did you say roaches?” Her voice drops several decibels to deathly

quiet.

“Yeah, I, uh . . . saw a roach in the sugar.”

“Here?” I’m pretty sure her face blanches.

“In Tribeca?”

“They get around, Bris.”

“I better dump it.” She goes for the canister, but I slide it out of her reach.

“I’ll throw it out.”

She pulls her phone from her pocket.

“I’ll just call property management. They need to—”

“Let me do that, babe.” I pluck her phone from her fingers and slide it back into her pocket. “You go get dressed. We need to leave soon.”

“But you’ll call?” She gives the sugar canister one last anxious glance. “I may not be able to sleep tonight thinking about that roach.”

“I have creative ways of putting you to sleep.” I lean down, lips on her, hand locked onto the canister. I pull away and turn her toward the stairs. “Go get even more beautiful for me and we’ll go. We don’t want to be late for the showdown.”

I swat her ass, smiling when she jumps a little and laughs back over her shoulder before taking off up the stairs.

Relief slowly pushes a breath out and slumps my shoulders. With one last furtive glance to make sure she’s not coming, I lift the lid and dig around in the sugar to retrieve the ring. The purity of it captures then reflects the overhead lights, a spectrum radiating from the yellow diamond.

“No roaches.” I slip the ring back into my pocket. “But I did find a canary.”

Chapter 20

Bristol

“WHY DO YOU KEEP SMILING?” I ask Grip as we walk toward the book- store for the debate.

“You’re wearing my necklace.” He squeezes my hand and slants me a smile, his eyes locked on the gold bar dangling between my breasts.

“Your necklace?” I touch the chain