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“This is a group effort,” I tease.
“I live here, but we’re on spring break as well.” He waits for me to offer more, but I’m tight-lipped. It’s his turn to start. “I’m local to this area. I’m just a Florida resident coming to hang out at the beach for spring break.”
“Nice. Karina and I both live in Tennessee. Nashville,” I add.
“How long are you here?” he asks.
“Just five days. We’re on day number two.” I hold up two fingers and curse myself for being so awkward. I can’t seem to help it. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, and that smile keeps me from thinking straight.
He nods. “Well, it’s a good thing our Frisbee crashed into you. There is no one better than a local to show you the sights. And by local, I mean me.” He points at his chest. “Just in case you were wondering.”
“So, let me get this straight. You want to spend your spring break showing me your hometown? That doesn’t sound like the full college experience to me.”
“Who says I’m in college?”
“You’re on spring break.”
He laughs. “Fine, you’ve got me there, but to answer your question, hell yes, I do.”
“I don’t want to abandon Karina.” It’s a lame excuse, but I have to at least attempt to ward off his advances, right? I can’t seem too eager.
“She can come too. Besides”—he glances over his shoulder—“it looks like she’s already getting along with my friends.”
I look down at my bikini-clad body and then back at Griffin. He, too, is looking at my bikini-clad body. My body heats, and I move my legs to ward off the desire that just a single look from him causes. “I’m going to need to change,” I tell him.
His eyes pop to mine. “Or not.” He grins.
“Let me talk to Karina.” I move to stand, and he hops to his feet with catlike reflexes and throws his arm over my shoulders.
“Hey, fellas!” he calls out as we make our way across the sand to our friends. “How about some sightseeing with these lovely ladies?” He points at me with the hand that’s not holding me to him and then at Karina.
“I’m in,” Karina announces. Her wide eyes find mine. I know that look. She’s surprised I’m standing here with Griffin’s arm around my shoulders. I step out from his hold, and he lets me. I immediately miss his heat, but I stay where I am. I’m usually very reserved around guys because I never know if they’re hitting on me because of my family or for me. I mean, come on. My dad was a major leaguer, my brother-in-law is a major leaguer, and my other sister is also dating a major leaguer. My family is pretty well known, which makes it hard for me to date.
“See…” Griffin leans down and whispers in my ear. Goose bumps break out across my skin from his hot breath against my face.
Unable to resist, I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “You sure you want to waste a day with two country girls?” I tease, trying to lighten the moment and not let on that my belly is flip-flopping at his nearness.
“Positive.”
“Where are we headed first?” one of the guys asks.
“Lunch,” Karina answers. “I’m starving.”
“Seafood?” Griffin asks.
I shrug. “Not much of a seafood girl,” I confess.
“That’s because they don’t do seafood in Tennessee like they do in Florida.” He winks. “Besides, if you hate it, you can always order chicken.” The laughter behind his eyes makes him even that more attractive. He seems like a good time, and I can’t help but want to get to know him better.
“I’m trusting you.” I point my index finger at him.
He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. “I’ve got you, Peyton,” he says, placing a kiss on the palm of my hand.
“Smooth talker.”
He shrugs. “I prefer charming.”
“Oh, you’re charming, all right.” I laugh. He once again places his arm over my shoulders, and this time, I don’t move away. I have a feeling he’d just keep doing it, and then there’s that little tiny morsel of me that really likes it.
Ten minutes later, Karina and I are standing outside of a taco truck with Griffin and three of his friends. “This?” I turn to look at him. “A taco truck?”
“Ah,” he says, tapping me on the nose. “This isn’t a normal taco truck. We’ve got fish tacos and crab tacos to choose from. You, my friend, are going to try both.”
I cross my arms over my chest in defiance. “I thought you said that if I didn’t like it, I could order chicken?” I ask, calling him out.
He grips my shoulders and walks me to the edge of the truck. Sure enough, sitting behind the taco truck is yet another truck. This one is called The Chicken Queen, and there’s a big picture of a basket of tenders and fries on the side. “Like I said, I’ve got you.” He grins.
