Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
YOU KNOW, JUST LEANING OVER TO SEE THE BIRDS.
Blair
“I really feel like the worst sister,” I say, maneuvering the phone on my shoulder to adjust Reginald’s leash before we continue our walk.
“What?” Kodi exclaims. “Never think that. You’re just busy with your new job. Besides, I’ve been swamped with interior design work.”
I’ve been following Kodi’s adventures on social media and with every design project she does, it just gets better and better. She’s the true definition of the more you do something, the better you get at it.
“I guess. I just feel like it’s been forever since we caught up,” I say.
“It’s been a week.” She laughs.
“Listen, I just miss you, Kodi. Okay?” I admit.
Reginald barks at the mention of her name and stops his walk to jump up and down on my leg.
“See, Reginald misses you too.” I chuckle. “He stopped his walk at the mention of your name. You know how much he loves walks. ”
“Tell that fur ball I miss him too,” she says, and I can feel the smile in her words.
Reginald spots a squirrel and forgets all about why he was just jumping up and down. We turn the corner on our street, and he practically pulls me toward our house when he sees it come into view.
I really believe he loves it here.
“You should come visit if work slows down,” I say through ragged breaths, trying to keep up with my twenty-pound dog.
“I promise,” Kodi draws out. “I will absolutely come visit soon.”
“You know how I feel about promises,” I say seriously. “You can’t break them.”
“I know, I know,” she mutters. “A promise is a promise only if it’s kept. Otherwise, it’s a lie. Trust me, I always remember your words.”
I smile to myself because I love how she knows me so well.
It’s something I’ve said all my life growing up.
I’ve had many promises broken in my life from people who swore they would never hurt me or break them. I know with certainty that Kodi isn’t one of those people. I know she will come visit when time allows, but it feels good knowing she remembers.
The problem at hand is that the biggest promise someone made to me destroyed my trust in people.
We took vows.
We said through thick and thin. In sickness and in health.
Promises broken for a sleazy lay with a secretary.
I push down the memories because this isn’t the time nor the place for it.
Just as I push them down, I spot Griffin in his yard doing yard work. I practically fall over my feet when I notice he’s wearing nothing but jeans, work boots, and a backward baseball cap.
Oh. My. God .
“Hello,” Kodi says. “Are you still there?”
“Yes. I—uh,” I stutter. “I have to go. Love you.” And without another word, I hang up the phone knowing I’ll explain everything to her later.
I can’t help but continue to stare at the beautiful species of a man working in his yard. Suddenly, I’m sweating. And it’s not like it’s one hundred degrees out. It’s cool enough for me to be wearing my lightweight Bluestone Lakes sweatshirt and a pair of biker shorts.
But to wear no shirt…
I hustle into the house, hoping he didn’t catch me staring the last few feet of our walk. I pace my living room before trying to find a window facing his yard to watch him some more. But none of them provide me with a good enough angle.
Who the hell am I right now?
Realization dawns on me that this man stood in my tiny living room and watched me freak out over a moose in nothing but a towel—and saw me naked.
I can totally creep on him shirtless. Right?
I scan the area, looking for something that will make me look busy outside. My eyes land on a feather duster I bought at the General Store and have yet to use. This is probably the most asinine thing, but it’s not like he can really see what I’m doing over here.
I make my way outside and start dusting the beaten wood on the railing as if there’s actually dust on it.
This is absolutely crazy.
I look in the direction of his house, and I still myself when I watch him rip out an entire bush next to his house with his bare hands. My mouth parts, watching the way the muscles in his arm morph with each move he makes. The ridges in his back flex when the bush is out of the ground while he walks it over the area of brush he has piled to remove.
Griffin is built like a brick wall.
Once he tosses the bush into the pile, he claps his hands together to remove the dust before removing his baseball cap and wipes a sheen of sweat off his forehead. He shakes the hair out of his face before replacing it right where it was.
I can’t take my eyes off him as he reaches for a water bottle, throwing it back to take a long chug. I have to lean forward more just to really get a good view of this.
Why is that so hot?
I don’t realize how much my body is pressing into the railing until I hear wood breaking, and I’m tumbling headfirst into the bushes skirting the bottom of the deck.
“Ahh,” I squeal.
I lie on the ground, unmoving, with my hand over my face. I’m terrified I just brought attention to myself and now he’s going to know I was creeping on him.
I reluctantly turn to face his house and lock eyes with Griffin.
This is absolutely mortifying.
That’s when I see him move toward my house.
Shit. Shit. Shit .
I attempt to move, but a pain in my knee causes me to move slower than I want to. I find enough energy to roll over on my stomach to make it look like I’m just casually resting in the yard. I’m clearly not thinking properly right now.
Did I hit my head that hard?
“You okay over there?” Griffin asks a few feet from my house, still walking full of swagger and hotness.
“Yep. Great,” I stammer, locking eyes with the grass in front of me. “Just checking out the grass. It’s really fine and green. Soft too.”
He comes to a stop next to me, and I fight the urge to look up at him.
Of course, my eyes betray me when they decide to turn up in his direction. They lock right on his bare chest. Painted with muscles that might as well smack me right in the face where I lie on the ground. My gaze trails down to the dips and curves of his abdomen, where I finally get a close view of how built this man really is.
I avert my gaze to his face before drool forms in the corner of my lips. He raises a questioning eyebrow, stopping right next to where I lie.
“Did your deck railing just break?” he asks.
I don’t answer right away, because I can’t stop watching as he takes off his baseball cap, allowing me a full view of that gorgeous hair he keeps hidden under all the hats he owns. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head using his forearm and then combs his hair back with his fingers. My mouth hangs open on its own accord as he flips the hat backward, adjusting it on his head.
“No. Yes,” I admit, feeling my words stammer. “You know, just leaning over to see the birds.”
Griffin looks up in the sky to scan the area.
“I don’t see any birds,” he says.
I look up, trying to find one single bird, but he’s right. Nothing.
“I must have scared them away.” I attempt to laugh. “But, hey, good thing I was planning to get rid of this deck and build a bigger one, huh?”
I’m still on the ground, because I refuse to get up.
With Griffin standing this close to me, I don’t want him to witness me feeling weak or in pain. I want him to believe I can handle my shit. There’s a good chance my leg is actively bleeding right now.
The adrenaline from the whole interaction is quickly wearing off, though.
I feel myself wince when I try to move, but I hide my features as best I can.
“Whatever you say,” he finally says.
I look up at him one more time and notice his eyes trailing my body. Likely assessing the situation. Hopefully, if I’m actively bleeding, I’ve hidden it well enough by lying on my stomach .
“Be more careful,” he tells me, right before turning on his heels and walking away.
I don’t take my eyes off him as he retreats to his house.
My mind is swirling with this entire situation.
Did Griffin Barlow just show that he cares about me? Am I reading too much into it?
Once he’s out of eyesight, I find the strength to lift myself off the ground. I look down at where the pain is slicing through my leg and see my entire lower right leg covered in blood.
Great .
I move to take a step, and the pain slices through me.
I’m not entirely sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a piece of wood stuck in there.
I hobble inside and realize I don’t have a single thing to help me right now. I never once thought to grab a first aid kit at the General Store when I was filling my house with supplies.
I grab a clean dish towel before turning on the water to let it run warm, knowing I’m about to ruin a solid white towel with my own blood.
The knock on the door causes me to snap my head in that direction and I spot Griffin standing on the other side of the glass with a first aid kit in his hand.
He put on a shirt too.
That’s a shame .
Okay, I definitely hit my head.
I wave a hand, signaling for him to come in. Once he crosses the threshold into my home, I feel him everywhere. This house is tiny, and he’s just too much man to be taking over this space. He makes it feel smaller, more confined.
His presence makes it hard to breathe all of a sudden.
“I saw your leg,” he says, lifting the kit to place it on the counter next to me. “Brought you some stuff to clean it up and make sure you don’t have a splinter.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I say, waving him off .
He gives me a skeptical glare as if he doesn’t actually believe me.
“Sit on the counter, Blair.”
Lord. The way he says my name has me ready to obey his every command.
Except the moment I try to pull myself to sit on the ledge of the counter, pain slices through me. Griffin is there instantly with his hands on my waist, helping me up. My body trembles from his touch. He pulls away quickly, but the touch is now branded on my skin. The heat spreading to every part of me.
Griffin opens the case next to me. His eyes bounce between the cut on my leg and the first aid kit to see what supplies he needs. I watch his eyes with every movement. In them, I can see a man who deeply cares, even though he pretends to not.
As if he can sense me staring, he keeps his head down, lifting only his eyes to meet mine. Goose bumps pebble over my skin even though I still feel hot all over, but I brush my hands over my forearms to hide the effect he has on me right now.
He clears his throat before averting his gaze back to my leg.
His large, calloused hand rests on my opposite thigh from where the wound is, and it only makes me realize how big this man really is.
“This might sting,” he warns, lifting a bottle of antiseptic.
I nod, because I can’t find a word to say back, even if I tried. Because Griffin Barlow is standing so close to me, in my kitchen, with his hands on me. Him being here is turning my brain to mush. It’s distracting me from the pain enough, but it’s causing me to fumble any words I dare try to say out loud.
I shouldn’t feel turned on by this. I shouldn’t be thinking about my neighbor this way. I shouldn’t want to kiss him right now.
It’s not why I came to Bluestone Lakes.
I didn’t come here to find a new relationship or get involved with anyone .
But the way he’s so close right now sends my brain into overdrive.
He pours the antiseptic on it, and I hiss from the pain. My hands fly up to grip both of his biceps on their own accord, while I wait for the burning sensation to pass.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly.
My hands release their claw-like hold on his upper arm, and our eyes meet. Stormy blue eyes bore into mine and capture all my attention.
“Are you?” I ask, the corner of my lip twisting in a half smile.
I watch his throat bob as he swallows and then nods before grabbing something from the kit and looking back down at my leg. I can’t help but keep watching his face. Assessing every feature and fighting the urge to run my hands along the thick scruff on his jawline or remove his baseball cap and run my hands through the hair he keeps hidden.
“Got it,” he says, lifting the tweezers in the air with a large chunk of wood between them.
My lips part in shock that he pulled that out without me even noticing. I expected to feel the pain when he did, but clearly, I was so transfixed by this man that it took away any pain I was just feeling.
“How are you feeling?” he asks me.
“Lightheaded,” I answer quickly and honestly. It’s not just the splinter removal that’s making me feel lightheaded, it’s his presence. “But okay.”
He places the tweezers down next to the first aid kit before taking half a step back and resting both hands on each side of my thighs. He leans down until his face is eye level with mine. My heart pounding rapidly in my chest with each passing moment of him staring at me with uncertainty. As if he’s afraid I’m going to keel over any second.
If he keeps looking at me like that, I might.
“I’m okay, Griffin,” I assure him.
He clears his throat, breaking whatever the hell that just was between us before looking down at the ground and taking a step away from me. I already feel cold at the lack of his body.
I want him in my space.
I don’t want him to leave.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks.
I nod. “I’m fine. I have Reginald here to keep me company,” I say, gesturing to where Reginald lies on the floor, deep in sleep and unfazed by this whole thing.
He raises a quizzical brow, looking from me to the dog.
“Don’t look at him like that,” I scold. “He’s a good dog.”
Griffin says nothing as he packs up the first aid kit he brought and heads to leave through my front door.
I stay on the counter, watching every move he makes.
He wouldn’t just walk out of here without a word, would he?
There’s no way what I just felt was one-sided.
“Thank you,” I say to his back. “You know, for cleaning this up and helping me. You didn’t have to, but I want you to know that I appreciate it.”
Just as he reaches for the door handle, he turns around to face me, void of emotion per usual.
“Next time you want to watch me work in the yard, just walk over. I don’t bite,” he says, and then leaves without even waiting for a response.
Oh, but I think you do, Griffin Barlow.
I think you do.