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“Griffin?” she asks, like maybe she doesn’t believe her eyes.
I smirk, pushing off from the wall and walking toward her car in the rain. I get under her umbrella with her because it’s really coming down. I take the handle so she can juggle what she’s trying to carry into her class into a better position.
“In the flesh, Sunday School,” I say, looking at her and knowing I’ll never get my fill. She’s all I see.
“I hate when you call me Sunday School. It’s a ridiculous nickname.”
“No, you don’t.”
Mallory blinks. “What are you doing here?”
“You moved.” As if that explains what I’m doing in the parking where she teaches preschool.
She nods. “Um, yeah. My parents are back from their trip. I got my own place. How did you find me here?”
I close the trunk for her. “I had to hire a damned private investigator. Are you happy to see me? I can’t tell.”
“Of course. I’m surprised, though. Are you in town on tour? I didn’t think you were touring the new album yet.”
“So you’re still following my career? That’s a good sign. I thought maybe you’d switch to country music or R&B or something. Like maybe rock pissed you off too much.”
“Griff...”
“I’m not on tour. I’m here to see you.”
Thunder rumbles in the distance. “Why?”
God. I just want to touch her so bad. “I miss you.”
Her eyes lock with mine, and my heart starts thudding. I wait for her to speak, to tell me to go away or to beg me to stay. The rain drums on the umbrella, pounding like the beat of my heart. I want to take her in my arms, to kiss her, to feel her body pressed up against mine. But I wait, because I don’t know what she wants.
“Mallory...” I say, trailing off, leaving the rest unsaid. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want her in it. She’s the only one I can imagine spending the rest of my life with, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
She takes a step closer to me, her hand reaching out to touch my face. The warmth of her touch sends shivers down my spine, and I lean into it, closing my eyes.
“Is that Griffin Grimm?” a voice nearly screeches.
Mallory and I are pulled out of our little bubble as a mom and her small child stop next to us on their way into the school.
“Yes,” Mallory confirms, a hint of amusement in her voice. “It is.”
The mom’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, I’m such a huge fan. Would you mind taking a picture with us?”
Mallory glances at me, silently asking if it’s okay. I nod, and she turns back to the mom. “Give me your phone.” She takes a few shots of us with the woman’s phone while we stand under the eaves to stay dry.
“Why are you here? How do you know Ms. Mallory?” the woman asked.
“Old friends,” Mallory answers. “The school should be unlocked. Ms. Emily got here before me. I’ll be in shortly.”
When the woman and her son enter the building, I know it’s time for me to let her get back to work. “I’ll let you go. I just came by to see if I can talk to you later. Or at least call you? I don’t have your number or anything.”
“What kind of private detective did you hire that couldn’t get my phone number?”
Busted. “Okay. I have three possible numbers, but I didn’t know which one was yours. And I’d rather talk to you in person, if that’s okay.”
Mallory pauses like she’s not sure if it’s a good idea or not. “I’m off at three.”
Relief fizzes through my system. She didn’t say no. “I have a room at the Fairmont...”
