Graves came to the restaurant, the same day each week, he was always sure to sit at one of your tables. “Phillip, what can I get you?”

If he didn’t know any better he’d swear that you know what you’re doing, calling him by his first name, looking at him so innocently. God, how we wished he could close the age gap between you.

“Hmm, the usual, darlin’.” His gaze roamed over your body. This is my curse. My divine punishment. You’re the box, I’m Pandora.