other person. The sex and the person were separate—even I felt removed from it.
But this thing with Blair was different.
It was impossible to think about what we’d done and separate it from her, or how I felt about her. It was about physical release, yes, but it was also about wanting to be with her. Share something with her. Give something to her.
And rather than craving distance when it was over, each encounter left me craving more.
I hadn’t been with the same woman two nights in a row since Kayla and I had split.
Another rule broken.
And I wasn’t about to suggest she start spending the night anywhere else. But I also knew that this was all I could offer. A temporary break from my rules while she was here. A little relief from the loneliness. A good time.
But it wasn’t like I was using Blair—I genuinely liked her. She was adorable and funny and smart. She was creative and organized, and completely determined to amp up my business. She really cared. She could talk to anybody, and she lured customers into the shop like a siren lured a sailor. She was irresistible—not just to me, to everyone.
And maybe for her, I was part of the rebellious streak she was on. Part of the break from her old life—from guys who wore fancy watches and designer suits, guys who had money in the bank, but didn’t have a clue how to please a woman. Maybe this thing with me was what she needed to feel different about herself.
Or maybe for her it was like fucking the help . . . who knew?
Besides, it didn’t really matter. In a few weeks, she’d be gone, and things would go back to normal. And as long as she and I were on the same page about what this was, what was the harm in enjoying one another in the meantime?
She rolled over to face me, tossing an arm and a leg over my body. If it had been any other woman, any other night, I’d have felt uncomfortable and desperate to leave. But because it was Blair, I gathered her in closer, glad when she lifted her head onto my chest.
It felt right—for now.
Twelve
Blair
I woke up with the sun the next morning. Griffin was still asleep, so I moved as quietly as possible. I managed to slide out of bed, tiptoe to the bathroom and dress without waking him, but before I left the bedroom I couldn’t resist studying him for a moment as he slept.
He lay on his back, one arm thrown up above his head, the other on his stomach. The blanket was at his waist, revealing his tattooed chest, which never failed to cause a stir inside me. I let my eyes travel the length of him, feeling a secret thrill as I recalled everything from last night.
Leaning over him, I pressed a light kiss to his jaw. As I straightened up to go, he grabbed my arm. “Trying to escape, princess?”
I giggled. “Never. I just want to get the scones and shortbread going.”
“Oh, right. It’s a work day.”
“Yes. But don’t forget our plans tonight.”
His brow furrowed. “What plans?”
“You’re going to take me for a ride in the old truck, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I remember now.”
I smiled at him. “Good. Okay, you have to let go of my arm now, because I have to go bake.”
“Don’t you want to come back to bed?”
“Yes, but I can’t. I have to get to work, and you do too.”
He frowned. “I liked it better when you were trapped in the tower.”
Laughing, I patted his shoulder. “You can rescue me again later. This morning, we work.”
It was the perfect day.
I spent the early morning in a sunlit kitchen, listening to music, chattering away to Bisou in French, and baking one tray of scones and two pans of lemon lavender shortbread.
Once again, the baked goods were a hit, and a steady stream of people wandered in through the open door to sample a treat, introduce themselves to me, make appointments for maintenance or repairs, and confide that even though they’d tried Swifty Auto last time, it was really just about curiosity and they much preferred to support a local family business. Many of them told stories about Griffin’s dad and grandfather, and it gave me an idea.
“Hey, do you have any old photos of your dad and grandfather working on cars? Or of you working alongside them?” I asked Griffin over lunch.