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silent consonants these days.”
    An unexpected laugh broke free.
    Griff gently squeezed her thigh before withdrawing his hand.
    The loss of his touch was sobering, the tremor in her voice profound. “This is real, isn’t it?”
    “Wish it wasn’t.” He laced his hands behind his head, his pecs and abs rippling as he moved.
    “I don’t want this.”
    Instead of meeting her eyes, he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “No doubt, but it’s like a kid with brown hair wishing he’d been born blond. He can dye it a thousand times and tell the world to believe what they see, but it doesn’t change the truth.”
    Leaning over, she rested her forehead against Griff’s biceps. She’d never seen him this quiet. He was forever in motion—running Desire, working the crowd, unloading a truck, filling in behind the bar or seducing women. Now? Only the steady rise and fall of his chest said he was animate.
    She didn’t want to leave, but staying here made everything far too real. Besides, hiding wouldn’t change anything. “I should probably go.”
    “You need to stick around in case you get in trouble.” He gathered his legs under himself and pushed up, rising with preternatural grace. “I’ll be in the office until about three. You going to finish your shift or do you want to, ah...” A rough gesture toward his bed said what he hadn’t been able to articulate.
    “It’d probably be wiser for me to finish my shift. I’d imagine Keith’s ready to kill me.” She accepted the hand he held out.
    He hauled her to her feet. “Seth covered for you. When I called down for him, his phone rang through to the bar.” Heavy hands settled on her shoulders. “Promise you won’t leave without checking in with me.”
    She bit her bottom lip. “You really expect me to believe this, don’t you?”
    “You’re too smart to deny it.” He chucked her under the chin. “It’s one of your best assets.”
    She winced. “Sorry about that.”
    “No apologies. Just don’t leave. And...” He rolled his shoulders.
    “And what?”
    “If you start getting light-headed or sick, come get me. I’d like to see you through this.”
    “Why?” She blurted, only to hold up her hand and stop his response. “You know what? Forget I asked. If I need you, I’ll find you.” Heat burned her cheeks. The idea of popping in and asking him to... Yeah. Definitely blushing. She looked around, her brow wrinkling. “What about my clothes?”
    Griff grinned. “Pretty much destroyed. You’ll have to wear the uniform.”
    “Oh, hell no.”
    * * *
    Griff leaned against the wall at the end of the bar and watched Bailey take orders, flip bottles and flirt like a pro. Hell, she was a pro. He grinned when she bent over and swept up a fallen towel. Half the men at the bar had to adjust their zippers. The half that didn’t clearly hadn’t seen the move from behind.
    She’d grumbled like mad about wearing the cocktail waitress’s uniform—cut-off denim short shorts and a tight, low-cut crop top with the name of the club over the breasts and “You can’t help it...and neither can I” across the back. Damn if she wasn’t rocking it, though. Men were stacked three deep at her end of the bar, and they were all vying for her attention. She’d emptied her tip jar more than once.
    Nickelback came across the sound system, the beat hard and fast. One of the men closest to her held a folded benjamin between his fingers and motioned her forward. Griff read the word “dance” on his lips.
    She grinned, shook her head and turned away.
    The guy didn’t take no for an answer. Instead, he lunged forward and grabbed the back pocket on her shorts.
    Griff came off the wall with a snarl, intent on ending the contact by whatever means necessary. He hoped the means involved force. Lots and lots of force. No one else had the right to touch her.
    He stumbled to a stop, shock making him lightheaded. Jealousy hadn’t ever been his gig, so what the hell