He blinked rapidly, shocked by my full statement. “Business deals? What kind?”

“My dad owns a company that works with stock negotiations and numbers and stuff. They get people to join or help the people that report to Wall Street. There are lot of smart men that pretty much work for him. My sister, Beth, gets a percentage but he pretty much gets everything. More than she gets. She’s a fucking moron.”

He laughed. “Sounds like you really hate your sister… and the stock business.”

“Ugh. It’s an absolute bore. You just don’t understand.”

“I actually think it’s quite interesting.” I looked up and he smiled crookedly at me.

“You… work with stock too?”

“I have some investments. I’m still in school, but I’m planning on making a career out of it. Negotiating and stuff. One more year and I can finally start up my own business.” My eyebrows pulled together as he sighed. He liked this, probably just as much as my dad and Beth did. Only, this guy was a little more passionate about it.

I could tell by the twinkle on his eyes and how his face lit with pride, like he knew all about it.

“You think it’s fun?” I asked.

He laughed. “Hell yeah!”

It wasn’t just about the money for him. It was about getting in the zone, winning people over. Getting them to trust him. My God, I couldn’t believe it but he’d sort of won me over too and he hardly even tried. His smile was so gentle and perfect, his demeanor so distant yet so close. In that moment, as I watched him look away and stare at the city, I wanted to know more about him.

This new guy who loved numbers so much.

This new guy that seemed to harbor secrets. Passions.

So, I asked, “What’s your name?”

And he said, “Griffin Boyd.”

And I smiled as he did, more like grinned. “I’m Colette Jenkins. You know, my dad owns a ton of companies that work with the stock business. So far so good… but I hate it.”

“Does he?” His tone held amusement. “I started working with numbers in high school. I’ve always loved math, and talking people into things. Believe it or not,” he laughed, “but I was a good negotiator. I won class president every year. The principle loved me. And now, I think I’m the best in my courses. If I’m late for an assignment—because I work so damn much to pay my loans—I can make the teacher give me at least another five hours.” He winked in my direction. “I’m that good.”

“That’s great,” I breathed. “I’m pretty sure you are.” He dropped his head, hiding his boyish grin. He was adorable, really. Very handsome, with dimples that sank deep into olive cheeks and teeth so perfect and white I kind of wanted to lick them. It didn’t seem a guy like him, someone who seemed to work paycheck to paycheck, could be so… casual.

I’d never struggled a day in my life. Not once… over material things at least. But Griffin… he seemed to have struggled every single day, probably over when his next real hot meal would be.

I knew I was going to regret this, but the hopefulness on his face, the light in his eyes… it really made me wonder.

“If you think you’re that good maybe I can introduce you to my dad. He’s always hiring new people.”

“Oh, no,” he shook his head, waving his hands with disapproval. “I don’t think he’d want to meet me.”

“Oh, whatever.” I placed a hand on his upper arm. “From what I’m seeing now, you’re formal. Kind. Respectful. Patient. Everything good for a business like that. Not once have you looked at my breasts, which I am very grateful for by the way.” As soon as I said that, his eyes dropped to my cleavage. “Annnddd… now I take that all back,” I giggled.

He laughed, and I dropped my hand as he turned towards the open window he was just looking out of moments ago. Someone was looking at him, I think the manager, and Griffin stood up straight, nodding quickly as the man gestured for him to come back inside and finish cleaning.

I didn’t want him to go, but I knew he had to. For once, it felt nice to open up, to talk about what I liked and didn’t like. It felt nice to laugh, to breathe, to forget about how damn cold I actually was.

As he walked backwards towards the door, a smile appeared on his lips and he asked, “How long will you be in New York?”

I blinked. “How do you know I’m not from here?”

“No accent. And you look exhausted… time difference maybe?”

“Three hours behind,” I laughed. And also my selfish family. “I’m here three more days and then we’ll be flying back home.”

“Oh…” He stopped walking, looking me over as his tongue ran across his lips. “Well, Colette, I would love to get to know your father, but first, I’d like to get to know you. Is that okay?”

I fought a smile, pressing my back against the silver railing. I almost lost my balance as the boat turned east, but I played it cool and kept it simple. “That would be… nice.”

“I mean, I know I don’t have it all like I assume your family does, but it’s New York. There’s a lot of stuff to do. Lots of fun we can have with a cheap buck.” He shrugged, his hands lifting in the air.

With a soft smile, I walked towards him, grabbed the pen out of the pocket on his shirt, gripped his hand and turned it palm up, and then scribbled my number down.

When I was done, I slid the pen back into his pocket and then patted his chest. It was hard and toned. I was sure the rest of his body was too.

We smiled at one another, and my cheeks turned rosy red the longer he looked at me. When he tipped my chin with his forefinger, I melted. I wanted him to hold onto me, then. To never let go. It wasn’t instant love, but it was instant lust. If he weren’t on the job, I’d have jumped his bones with no regrets.

I liked that. Griffin had piqued my interest so much that night, so much that when I went back to my table I didn’t even realize I was smiling and glancing at him as he cleaned, not until Mom mentioned it anyway.

“What are you smiling about?” she questioned, and I jerked my gaze away.

I looked up at her and waved a hand, still fighting my silly grin. “Nothing, Mom. Nothing.”

Later that night, around midnight, I received a text message from the Griffin Boyd. He was so sweet and genuine. Not once did he ask about my father or his business. I knew he cared—that he wanted to ask since I put it up in the air—but for some reason he wanted to get to know me more. So, I spent the next three days with Griffin.

He worked at night, but we spent the daytime together, drinking mimosas in the mornings at decent restaurants, eating brunch and chatting about my artwork, and even walking around the city and absorbing the lively aura. I liked New York. Not more than California, but I liked it.

I found out on the first day that Griffin was from Miami, Florida. His mother still lived there. A few years down the road, she moved to Tampa with his brother, Walter, and his sick father.

With each day, I fell just a little bit harder for Griffin. Never had someone been so affectionate towards me, paying me all the attention I needed. Never had a guy been so willing to spend time with a girl like me. I could be bitchy and picky, I knew it, but he accepted that. He appreciated it… appreciated me for who I really was.

When I flew back home, I continued my prolonged chats with Griffin. The text messages transitioned to late night phone calls, full of giggles from me, and deep chuckles from him.

We dated for so long, and the more I got to know him, the more I didn’t want him to meet my father. I didn’t want my dad ruining him, tainting him with his business talk or disrupting our future.