I force my eyes back up to his face, which is now sporting a grin.
“Yes,” I say, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels. Bob has backed up as much as he can without going down the stairs, glowering at Griffin with his ears pinned against his neck. “The embarrassing thing is I thought I was being stealthy.”
It’s not the only embarrassing thing about that interaction, but he should get my point.
Griffin walks over to me and reaches out his hand. “I’m Griffin, but you probably caught that when you were spying on us.”
“Actually, I did.” I shake his hand, but make sure I let go before I hold on too long because that would be weird, and I’ve already been weird enough for one day.
He steps back, putting about a foot of distance between us. “So, Eden, what brings you to our humble haunted headquarters?”
“I need the money,” I say. “And the ghost-proof walls.”
“That’s how Donny got me, too.”
My eyes drop back to his prosthetic. I wonder if he lost his leg when he died.
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“About a year and a half,” he says. “I bet Donny gave you the doom and gloom pitch, but it’s not all bad. Ghost hunting comes with a lot of perks. Free room and board. Only occasional mortal peril. Plus, I get to watch DJ lose her mind every time I do something stupid, which is often. And there are few things as cool as learning history from the mouths of people who lived it. You haven’t lived until you’ve listened to Nico try to explain cryptocurrency to a soldier who died at Gettysburg.”
My head can’t quite wrap around that image, but it sounds hilarious. “That does sound insane.”
“You’ve got to be a little insane yourself to fit in around here,” Griffin says. “But I heard you punched Nico in the face, so I think you’ll do just fine.”
My hand goes to rub the back of my neck. “That wasn’t my best first impression.”
“Are you kidding? That was legendary. Do you know how many people have wanted to do that?”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Don’t get me wrong. Nico’s a good guy, and Donny’s second in command, but sometimes, he gets into this whole team leader mode where his face gets extra serious and extra punchable, you know?” Griffin makes this exaggerated stern expression, his eyebrows drawing together and his mouth setting in a hard line that I’m guessing is supposed to be an impression of Nico. “All brooding and ‘follow the protocol’ and ‘stop singingBee Geessongs in the haunted house because it’s not helping me focus, Griffin.’ The guy needs to learn to live a little.”
There’s genuine affection in Griffin’s voice when he talks about Nico, even through the teasing. Maybe Nico’s attitude this morning wasn’t personal. His job as team leader must be to keep everyone safe. I guess a random girl with no experience showing up like this really throws a wrench in the works. It gives me a lot of respect for him, which is annoying considering I want to stay mad at him for that orphanage dig.
Griffin shifts his weight to his right leg, and the towel rides lower on his hips.
I shouldn’t be staring at him, but then again, is there anything wrong with appreciating what someone’s so clearly putting on display?
“Anyway, enough about Nico. Let’s talk about something more interesting.” He gestures at himself with both hands like he’s presenting a prize.
I choke on a laugh. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone wearing a towel that’s one wrong move away from this getting awkward.”
“Who said I’d feel awkward?” he asks.
“I never said you’d feel awkward.” I push my finger into my sternum, trying hard not to look down at him again. “Me.I’dfeel awkward.”
“That’s understandable,” he says. “Most people find me pretty intimidating when I’m like this.”
I’d think he was one of those guys who was obsessed with himself if he didn’t look like he’s holding back a laugh. Him standing here making jokes about his own abs is ridiculous. Everything in my life is so heavy. So serious and scary and exhausting, but this is silly. When’s the last time I got to just joke around with someone without worrying about saying the wrong thing or being too much?
I can feel myself relaxing, my shoulders dropping from where they’ve been permanently stationed near my ears since I got here.
“I’d offer to go get you a bigger towel,” I say, “but I don’t think I could find one big enough to cover your ego.”
He clutches his chest as if I’ve wounded him. “Here I was thinking we were having a nice conversation.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” I tip my head to the side. “I thought I was trying to grab dog food from my car, while you were out here catching pneumonia in the hallway.”
