“Yes.” Smiling, I tap my phone and pull up some photos from the night. I find the selfie of me posing next to the suit of armor. “Here.”
Rachel leans forward, then smiles broadly. “I was right! You look so cute!”
I tilt my phone so that Griffin can see the photo. “Look!” I grin.
His eyes narrow. “You’re Purple Girl?”
“Purple Girl?” I repeat.
“That’s what I called you inside my head.”
“So you two met in New Orleans, too?” Rachel asks, nearly breathless with enthusiasm.
I nod, my eyes on Griffin. The Midnight God. Oh my God! TheMidnight God is Griffin!
Something about the situation leaves me shaken to the core. I thought I’d never run into him again. I told myself I’d consider it a sign—fate—if we did.
But we did—we have—and I didn’t even realize it! We crossed paths at Ted’s birthday party. Then again when he came to Silicone Dream to do the case. Again, when he came over to my place and saw what Todd did and decided to move in with me for a few weeks to keep me safe until my ex-husband gave up.
It’s like fate has decided to beat me in the face with Griffin until I figure out he’s not a fluke.
He’s a keeper. You don’t keep orbiting each other like this and not have it be destiny.
“Wow,” I manage finally.
The tip of Griffin’s right eyebrow twitches. He looks at me thoughtfully, then turns to his mother.
“We have to go,” he says, rising to his feet and towering over us.
“But Sierra hasn’t had a drink yet,” she says. “Neither have you.”
He makes an exaggerated show of checking his watch. “It’s late.”
“It’s not even midnight!” Rachel protests.
His jaw flexes. He clearly doesn’t want to talk with his mom around. But with just two of us, he might want to talk about the fact that we’ve been in each other’s lives, knowingly and otherwise. And I definitely want to marvel with him about how we’ve been in each other’s orbits for so many months.
“It is getting late,” I say. “I’ve been up since six, so I should get some beauty sleep.”
The tension in his jaw eases as he extends a hand. I take it and stand. His bare skin feels hot and dry. Sexual awareness tingles from my fingertips all the way to my face and chest.
“Beauty sleep is important, but just one drink?” Rachel pleads.
“We had quite enough to drink earlier,” Griffin says. “And I’m sure your friends are waiting.”
“But—”
“Good night, Mother,” he says, leaning across the table and placing a quick peck on her cheek.
Then, before I can say good night to Rachel, he pulls me away, leaving her alone in the lobby bar.