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“I’ll grab me something,” I say, taking a step toward the chicken truck.
“Not so fast, little lady,” he teases.
“I’m not little.” His calling me lady reminds me of my dad, and I don’t want to think about him now.
He stands to his full height, well over six feet. “You are to me.”
He’s not wrong. He’s almost a head taller than I am. “I’m going to grab some food,” I say, taking another step toward the chicken truck.
Griffin wraps his arms around me from behind and lifts me into the air. My breathing grows erratic from being this close to him. “Tacos first,” he says, his lips next to my ear. He carries me with ease to the window of the taco truck before placing me on my feet.
“I don’t even know what to order,” I say, trying not to pout and make myself look like a fool in front of him. I’m not the most adventurous person in the world when it comes to food.
“I’ll take care of you,” he says, his voice husky.
I know he’s talking about food, but my mind drifts to other ways he could take care of me. One would be the ache he’s caused between my thighs. “Let’s do this, so I can order my chicken,” I tell him. I’ve never reacted this way to a guy before. My body never betrays me. I don’t seem to have a choice when it comes to Griffin.
He throws his head back in laughter, and I turn to watch him. “I promise you that if you don’t like them, I’ll buy you a basket of chicken tenders.”
“Deal.” I nod. He steps up to the window and rattles off an order that seems to be way too much food for two people, but what do I know? “That’s a lot of food for two people,” I voice my thoughts.
“I made sure there was enough for Karina too.”
His words have me feeling all warm and gooey inside, and it has nothing to do with the heat of the sun. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“My turn,” one of the guys says, stepping up to the window.
“Are you eating here?” Karina asks.
“I told this one”—I point at Griffin—“that I would try it. We have a deal. If I hate it, he buys me chicken from the next truck.”
“Don’t worry,” he chimes in. “I’m confident. I ordered enough for all three of us.”
“Wow. Thanks. I’ve never tried it, but I’m game,” Karina tells him.
“See, Peyton, where is your sense of adventure?” he teases.
“This one is a picky eater,” Karina announces.
I shrug. “I’m not going to deny it.”
“Well, growing up, my mom always told me that I couldn’t claim that I didn’t like something if I’d never tried it, so today, you are going to step out of your food bubble and open your horizons.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you.” Karina laughs.
Griffin’s eyes hold mine. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”
I’m sure I’m way off base, but something in his gaze tells me he’s talking about more than just the mountain of food he just ordered.
“You’re going to love it,” his friend, who’s taller than him and has white-blond hair, assures me.
“Thanks…” I let the words trail off.
“Right, proper introductions.” Griffin throws his arm over my shoulders once more. “This is Peyton, and that’s Karina.” He points at where she’s standing on my other side. “This is Sam.” He gestures to the tall white-haired guy. “This is Daniel.” He points at the smallest of the group, who also seems to be bulkier than the others. He reminds me of a football player. “And this is Oliver.” Griffin nods toward his last friend. This one is the same height as Griffin and the same build, but he has jet-black hair.
“Nice to meet you,” Karina and I say at the same time, making everyone laugh.
“Are you sisters?” Sam asks.
“No. Best friends since kindergarten,” Karina answers.
“I have two older sisters,” I say without thinking. I usually try to keep my family to myself. Karina turns to look at me and raises her eyebrows. I pretend not to notice.
“What about you?” Oliver asks Karina.
“Only child.”
“Anthony!” the server from the food truck calls out.
“That’s us.” Griffin grins. “Go find us a picnic table. I’ll be right there.”
“Can you carry all of that?” I ask.
“Woman, you wound me.” He places his hand over his heart. “I’ve got this. The guys can help. Go sit.”
Karina links her arm through mine, and we set off to find a picnic table on this section of the beach. “He’s hot. Hell, they’re all hot,” she whispers.
“Right?”
“He’s into you.”
“Who?” I pretend not to know because it’s unreal to me, the connection I feel so soon.
“Griffin, that’s who.”
“He’s just being nice,” I defend.
“Uh-huh.” She chuckles. “We’ll see about that. We have the rest of today and three more days.”
