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The white crew socks she had on featured the infamous Elf on the Shelf, grinding on a candy cane like a stripper pole. Santa’s little ho, ho, ho, they read.
“You think you’re real cute, don’t you?”
In the blink of an eye, his smile turned sly. “Better question is, do you think I’m cute?”
“I’m not working on Wednesday. You could let me take you out.” He grinned. “That way, you can keep me as long as you want.”
“Long time, no see.” Four days had passed since her last brush with disaster. Four. “Not long enough.”
“You must think I’m a total disaster.” She certainly felt like one. “Eh, I was thinking more along the lines of a hot mess.” He grinned wolfishly, eyes dragging down her body. “Emphasis on hot.”
Griffin hummed. “See, what you call bad luck, I’m more inclined to call fate.”
“Fate?” She laughed. “You think it’s fate that my grandmother’s neighbors had to call 911 for me twice in one week?” He shrugged a shoulder. “Feels a little like the universe wanted us to cross paths, is what I’m saying.”
A wide smile crossed the man’s face. “So this is the famous Trouble we’ve all heard so much about.” Famous? Sure. “More like infamous, I’m guessing.”
“Nah.” He chuckled, eyes flitting over her shoulder. “Brantley won’t shut up about you. This whole week, it’s been nothing but Trouble this and Trouble that—”
“Don’t tell me you’re bringing the emergencies straight to us now, Trouble.”
“If you knew half the thoughts I’ve had about you, saint would be the very last thing you’d dream of calling me.”
“I caught him looking up ferry schedules yesterday.” She frowned. “Ferry schedules?” “Mm-hmm. The Edmonds-Kingston ferry.” Lana arched a brow. “You know, the one between here and Seattle.”
