Clare whispered as Griffin began to work his way through the crowd toward them. She instinctively touched her hair to make sure it looked all right, then jerked her hand down. Hadn’t she already decided she wasn’t going to get involved? “Of course he is.” Astrid watched him approach, her eyes gleaming in anticipation. “You teased him and left him hanging last night. No man can resist that kind of temptation.” Clare grabbed Emma’s chair. “Move closer so he can’t sit next to me—” “What are you, thirteen years old?” Emma pushed her hand away. “That’s way too obvious. Deal with it.” “Good morning, ladies,” Griffin arrived at the table, a wide grin on his handsome face. The dimple was in full bloom today, and his eyes were bright and cheerful. He was wearing jeans and his hiking boots again, a white button down shirt, and a hip-length leather jacket that gave him just the right edge of sophistication and ruggedness.
