His head lifted quickly. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who can’t keep his big foot out of his mouth when I’m around you.”
“I really shouldn’t have accused you.” Crinkling her nose, she added, “To be honest, some strange smells can come from their apartment. They do have a business from their home, and I’m sure it’s just a mixture of oils they use in their products that make it seem like they’re trying to cover up other odors.” She turned her attention to the pink bag and peeked inside, seeing an assortment of pastries.
“Well, I should be going.”
At his words, she twisted her head around. “Um… hungry?”
“I’m sorry?”
She hesitated for a second then shrugged. “There’s quite a bit here, and Lord knows my hips don’t need all of these, or I’ll be running extra miles, and honestly, I hate running. So, maybe you’d like to join me?” She held her breath, waiting for his response, not knowing if the gift was just a peace offering to a neighbor he’d been a dick to or if he’d like more of her company.
He squeezed the back of his neck again, but this time, his lips curved upward and the air rushed from her lungs. He was good-looking even when pissed off, but with a smile, he was devastatingly gorgeous.
Dropping his hand, he nodded. “Sure, I’d love to join you.”
Standing straighter, she grinned. “Good. I’ll make more coffee and you can pick out your favorites. Believe me, with Penelope’s, you can’t go wrong with any of their choices.”
She poured two mugs of coffee, doctored hers with flavored creamer and sweetener, asking, “How do you take yours?”
“Splash of milk,” he said, pulling out the pastries and putting them onto the plate she’d set on the counter.
“That’s boring. Here, I’ll rock your world.” She poured salted caramel creamer into his mug and set it before him. He met her offering with a lifted brow. “Oh, come on,” she cajoled. “Take a walk on the wild side.”
He laughed but lifted the hot brew to his lips and took a sip. Nodding, he smiled wider, and she sucked in a quick breath. It wasn’t lost on her that a smiling Griffin first thing in the morning was beautiful. She started to speak but all that came out was mostly a croak. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Good?”
“Good,” he agreed, taking another sip.
His lips continued to quirk upward. Yeah… definitely a cute quirk. They stood at her counter drinking coffee and munching on pastries, and she wondered how such a dull Sunday morning had turned into something so different.
As he wiped the crumbs from his lips, he turned his gaze to her and asked, “So, what made you jump between two teenage boys and take an unnecessary hit to the face?”
She blinked as she finished chewing and swallowing in an attempt to not choke. Licking her lips to catch the stray crumbs, she noted his gaze dropped to her mouth, which in turn made her think of his mouth.
“Caitlyn?”
At his prodding, her head jerked slightly, bringing her attention back to his question and off his mouth. “Unnecessary? I don’t know what you mean.”
“I can’t imagine you were the only adult around. And I know there’s got to be rules for the staff to follow. So, with male teachers and administrators, some who had to be bigger than the guys, why didn’t you let someone else handle it?”
She wouldn’t have thought a Penelope’s pastry could taste like sawdust, but that was all she tasted right now. Taking a huge swig of coffee, she tried to tamp down her anger but found her mouth wasn’t ready to listen to her brain. “You’re determined to just be condescending, aren’t you?”
He straightened from the counter, his brows lifted to hide underneath the hair that dropped over his forehead. “No! That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know what happened, that’s all.”
“Well, you’ve got a dumbass way of asking that implies I didn’t follow rules or was too hasty in intervening.”
Once again, his hand lifted over his head to squeeze the back of his neck. “Caitlyn, if there are rules, then they’re there for a reason.”
She stared at the man on the other side of the kitchen counter, so tall she had to lean her head back to hold his gaze, and wondered if it was worth missing out on Penelope’s if she threw the last bite of her pastry at his head. Deciding nothing was worth that travesty, she shoved the last bit into her mouth at one time, hoping the sugary confection would soothe her ruffled feathers.
8
Griffin looked down at the pissed-off woman, and the image of his younger sisters ran through his mind. Well, not completely. The angry expression that came from him questioning what they were doing certainly looked familiar. But all other thoughts about Caitlyn were definitely un-sister-like.
He’d seen her with flawless date-night makeup and her hair flowing over her shoulders, dressed in a cocktail dress that managed to be non-slutty and yet fuck-me at the same time. He’d seen her fresh out of bed, standing on her balcony, her hair wild about her face and her simple sleepwear the kind that made a man want to take her right back to that bed—but not for sleeping. He’d seen her in the ER, her face bruised and swollen, and while he might have had her situation pegged wrong, he wished he’d known her then so that he could have entered the room, sat on the bed with her, and wrapped his arms around her. Yesterday, he’d seen her straight out of the shower, barely dressed with wet hair in her face and in a panic to get to the stove. This morning, he’d finally managed to see her smile, and that was the expression that punched him in the gut more than any other.
And now? He’d managed to piss her off—again. With both hands on the top of the counter, he leaned his weight on them, wanting to drop his chin but refusing to give up holding her eyes. “You’re right.”
Her eyes widened and her brows lifted but she remained silent.
“I do have a way of asking a question that implies the other person did something wrong.”
“That sounds like you have previous experience.”
With no trace of humor, her voice sounded haughty, but he could hardly blame her. Nodding slowly, he agreed. “Yes. If you asked any of my younger siblings, they would tell you that it’s one of my faults.”
He kept his gaze on her, noting as she dropped her chin and stared at her empty plate, dragging her forefinger through the powdered sugar before popping the tip into her mouth. That small, innocent motion had his blood run south, and he was glad the counter hid everything from his waist down. He wasn’t sure that the tenuous conversation would proceed positively if she noticed the swelling behind his zipper.
She lifted her clear-eyed gaze and said, “Faculty and staff are required to verbally attempt to dissuade student altercations. Sometimes, that works. If you have two students that are mouthing off to each other, a forceful, ‘Stop,’ will do the trick. Things become murkier when you have students engaged in a physical altercation. That’s when decisions are often made in an instant, but my goal is always to try to protect the students.”
Fascinated with both her and what she was relating, he knew his best bet for keeping her talking was to stay quiet, so he simply nodded.