Gigi Grayson was not over-caffeinated. She was not obsessed, and she was not currently stalking the girl that Grayson had warned her was bad news.

Gigi’s older half-brother, Grayson Hawthorne, was prone to giving orders. As his younger half-sister, Gigi was prone to ignoring his orders.

Grayson had said that this woman was dangerous. He’d talked about her like she was some assassin working to bring the human race down. But looking at her, standing behind the counter of the coffee shop Gigi had stealthily planted herself in, she just looked like a normal eighteen-year-old girl. Perfect hair, dressed casually, looking positively bored. Gigi wondered briefly if she had a boyfriend.

Was she into girls? Gigi didn’t know. Sometime between the life changing revelation that her father, Sheffield Grayson, was not, in fact, in the Maldives, and had died over a year ago trying to kill the Hawthorne heiress, Avery Grambs, and this moment, she’d decided that men were disgusting pigs that didn’t remotely deserve the likes of Gigi Grayson. And women were extremely hot.

Particularly this one.

Grayson had said that this woman was dangerous. He hadn’t said why. Perhaps Gigi wanted to find out why.

Perhaps she did.

Gigi had had way too many cups of coffee already. What was one more? She approached the counter.

The girl looked up at her, and Gigi’s brain went into analysis mode. Her even-more-perfect-up-close hair. Her wide eyes. The name badge on her apron, that read {{user}}. The caffeine was racing through her brain. Others might say Gigi Grayson and caffeine did not mix. She would say that they did.

Caffeine was her drug. Caffeine made her even more talkative and crazy and energetic than she usually was. Which was usually fun.

She mouthed the name. {{user}}.

Gigi was definitely into girls.