Griffin (Ruthless MC 3)

Griff still hasn’t come out by the time I’m done, so I do some more research on Harlem, the neighborhood I plan to live in when I move to New York.

Sometime around two p.m., I just decide to make his Christmas gift in the hopes of luring him out.

It works. Griff comes stumbling into the front room about five minutes after my gift starts frying.

And why does he look even sexier than usual with a grumpy scowl on his face?

I have the weirdest, strongest urge to make it go away. To rain kisses on the criminal biker until he smiles at me like he usually does in the morning. But kissing is what led to all that awkwardness last night.

So instead, I focus on setting his Christmas gift on a plate covered with a paper towel.

“About last night . . .” he starts to say behind me. But then he stops and comes closer to the stove to ask, “Wait, is that fried chicken?”

“Sure is,” I answer. “I’ve got an all proteins and vegetables keto version of Christmas dinner planned for tonight. But I thought maybe you'd appreciate some dirty carbs as your Christmas present, since you said earlier in the week that you never eat them. I also made biscuits and apple crisp. They’re in the oven, keeping warm . . .”

I peter out, realizing once again that I might have read him wrong. Just because he mentioned not eating carbs didn’t mean he actually wanted them as a Christmas gift.

“Are you fucking with me, Red?” he asks, dipping his head down low to spear me with his suspicious eyes. “Tell me right now, are you trying to mindfuck me?”

“Um, no, I was just trying to give you something for Christmas.” It’s hard to talk. I’m choking so hard on embarrassment. “But this was a bad idea. I get it. I’ll just throw the food away.”

His eyes take on a dangerous gleam.

“Red . . .” He bares his teeth at me and shoves his finger right in my face. “Do not play with me. Do not. If this is a game of mindfuck. You will not win. Other women have tried before you. Tried and failed.”

“I’m not trying to play with you,” I answer, sputtering. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was just making you some fried chicken.”

He glares at me, his eyes scanning my face like some kind of lie detector. “Good. Then, let’s eat. I haven’t had carbs in fucking years.”

I’m pretty sure he’s exaggerating about how long it’s been since the last time he had carbs, but I can’t help but thrill when he houses five pieces of chicken and three biscuits slathered in butter and honey.

And I downright beam when he throws down his cloth napkin and declares my Christmas gift, “The best damn meal I’ve ever eaten.”

“Where did you learn to cook dirty like that?” he asks, as if me cooking non-healthy meals was a secret I’ve been keeping from him on purpose.

“My cousin Kiki taught me. This is her grandma’s secret recipe. She made these Sunday dinners that brought in our relatives from all over. So many of them came through for Aunt Bernice’s famous fried chicken, we had to set up tables in the backyard to fit everybody. Luckily, she taught Kiki how to make it before she went home to the Lord. And my cousin taught me on account of me being—”

I break off, realizing I was just about to admit being named after my great aunt in real life.

“On account of you being what?” Griff asks with a curious look.

I reset with a shrug. “Real sad about her moving to Nashville. Once Kiki got married and started a family of her own, she didn't have much time for her extended family.”

This is only a partial lie on my part, and Griff must sense that.

“You miss her,” he says, and it’s a statement, not a question.

I shake my head. “It's stupid. She's right in Nashville. But it feels like she's hundreds of miles away. Even when I’m in the same house with her. We’re just so different now. It’s like I don’t have a place in her life anymore—not really.”

Griff gives me a thoughtful look over his plate of chicken bones and biscuit crumbs. “My brother and me . . . well, we've never been best friends like you and your cousin. But we were for shit sure closer before I . . .”

He pauses, swallows, then finishes with, “Joined the Reapers. But he wasn’t there for me when I really needed him. And now he's married with a kid on the way. I've probably got at least one hundred people in my phone who I talk to more than him. Some people start families and forget about everybody else."