Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

I glance up and my stomach does some weird flippy thing. The awkward suit from a few weeks ago is back. Griffin. The star of my most recent X-rated fantasies.

This is a surprise; usually bachelor party guys are in and out of town inside of a week. Maybe he’s local and his friends flew in to visit? Regardless, he’s back, and I never expected to see him again. Except this time, he’s dressed in a golf shirt and pants, looking just as yummy as he did the last time he was in here.

“Run out of lube already?” I ask as the door closes behind him. I grimace at my less-than-appropriate greeting. Shaming customers when I work at an adult toy store isn’t the best strategy to generate business. And the fact that I recall the amount of flavored lube he purchased is embarrassing. I rarely remember what anyone buys, let alone some guy buying stuff for a bachelor party. Also, there’s one primary use for that lube, and it involves mouths and tongues, which means I immediately imagine him dining at the vagina buffet. And of course, I make it mine.

He grins and ducks his head as he passes the lingerie rack, fingers brushing a pink lace teddy. “It was for a bachelor party, remember?”

“Oh, right.” I tap my temple. “You drew the short straw. How could I forget?” I close my laptop and lean a casual arm on the counter. I also check to make sure I look okay in the tiny mirror by the register. “Did you have so much fun last time that you decided to host another bachelor party in Sin City?”

“Uh, no. I’m good for bachelor parties for a while.” He stops a foot away from the sales counter and scratches the back of his neck, looking uncertain as he peeks up at me from under his pretty lashes.

“What can I help you with, then, Griffin?”

A half smile tips up the corner of his mouth. “You remember my name.”

“It’s a unique name, kinda hard to forget.” It’s not like I’ve been doodling it incessantly for the past three weeks or anything. Or drawing gryphons because it’s better than actually getting caught writing his name on pieces of paper when I’m bored. I don’t know what my fascination is. Maybe his eyes? Maybe how uncomfortable he was while I gave him the run down on every ridiculous item he purchased? Maybe because he’s hot?

His grin widens. “Not as unique as Cosy.”

“Well, my mom is a big fan of tea, so . . .”

“She named you after a tea cozy?”

“No, but it’s the best explanation I have.”

He chuckles and the sound makes things happen in the lower half of my body. I don’t think that’s normal.

“So, if you’re not throwing another bachelor party, what’re you here for?”

He hooks his thumbs in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I, uh . . . was in the neighborhood, and I figured I’d pop in and see if you were working.”

That definitely wasn’t the answer I expected. He looks way nervous, but it’s different than the last time he was in here. “Because of my amazing expertise on all things sex toy related?”

“Well, that was certainly helpful. My buddy was impressed that I managed to get everything on the list.” He takes another step toward the cash desk. “Uh, look, I don’t know if this . . . Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m an idiot.” He waves a hand in my direction. “You must have a boyfriend. I mean, look at you, how could you not?”

I have a feeling I know what’s happening here, and I’m not sure how to handle it. I should probably lie and tell him I do have a boyfriend, but I go with honesty instead. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Really?”

“They can be a lot of work. I’ve got enough stuff going on without adding another emotional dependent to my plate.” Awesome, Cosy, way to flirt like a pro. Here’s the thing about me—I can sell sex toys like nobody’s business, but when it comes to actual flirting with real live men that I find attractive, I get all flustered and say things without thinking them through.

He laughs and props one muscular, tanned forearm on the counter. “What about dating? Do you do that, or is it too much work?”

“I date.” Not often, but occasionally I get lonely and end up on a date with some guy. Usually from college, but never someone from my program because that’s asking for problems.

I’ve even gone out on a few repeat dates, but as soon as the guy catches feelings, I put the gauntlet down. I’m too unsettled to get serious, and a bruised ego heals a lot faster than a broken heart. I’ve only let it get too far once in the past year. That guy still calls me once in a while, usually when he’s drunk. It’s unfortunate.