Chapter 16
Griffin
I got up early and left Savannah to it and attempted to keep busy all day.
But the nerves I had for her opening never left.
I saw the crowds gathering on my way to do another site visit at the distillery and decided to stop by.
She was busy. Completely run off her feet.
So I did what I thought I could do to help and iced some of her cupcakes.
I’ve built houses, barns, decks, and half the damn distillery.
I could fix anything with my hands. But apparently, the one thing I couldn’t do was pipe frosting onto a cupcake without making it look like a toddler was finger painting.
Were they perfect? No. Not by a long shot. I ruined at least five cupcakes. Maybe six. It was hard to tell where the frosting ended and the crime scene began.
My spoilage rate alone probably doubled the second I touched a piping bag. But if ruining a few cupcakes meant she breathed easier, I’d ruin a hundred more.
The truth is… I don’t care about the cupcakes. I care about her.
The way she’d looked this morning—overwhelmed, breathless, trying to do everything at once—hit me harder than I expected.
So if I had to ruin a few cupcakes to make her day easier, then fine. Let the spoilage rate climb.
I’d fix anything for her.
After my first foray as a baker, I spent time at the distillery, looking over the new accommodation and talking with Victoria about a few new projects coming up before I decided to grab some materials from Bob at the hardware store.
Needing to keep myself busy, I went to my place on Billionaire Boulevard and got to work.
I had to do anything to keep my mind off her. I probably should’ve flown to Sundown Valley. Or even to Colorado to look over a build my team is doing, but leaving after just getting back here feels wrong. Even though I’ve done it numerous times before.
It’s not uncommon for me to be in three or four different states per week.
The miles of air travel I have racked up is beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.
I’m always on the go. Always building, quoting, managing, reviewing.
My workaholic nature has won me awards, made me millions. There’s nothing I want for.
Until now.
I want Savannah to succeed today. I want the bakery to be amazing. I want her to smile, to laugh. I want her to sleep well. I want her to look at me with those big eyes and never stop. I want to hold her hand. Touch her. Be with her.
That’s probably why I slipped into her bed last night. Refusing to leave her alone and refusing to attempt to fit myself into the poor excuse of an armchair she had at her bedside any longer. So I stayed on the top of the blanket and watched her sleep until slumber took me under.
My sleep was restless. It usually is. But it was also one of the more peaceful experiences I’ve had. Hearing her soft breaths and little snores all night had me feeling content like I haven’t felt before. Despite the usual night terror that woke me.
It should’ve been weird sharing her bed.
I don’t share beds with women. I don’t cuddle, don’t caress.
I sure as hell don’t hold hands and touch baby bumps.
But it felt right. I’ve got friends, acquaintances, but she’s different.
We click. It’s easy with her. She doesn’t pry, doesn’t want more than I’m willing to give.
She doesn’t demand a thing from me, and because of that, I want to give her more of me than I’ve given anyone else.
Perhaps that’s why, in the middle of the night, I shared more with her than I have with any other person. She didn’t prod too much, didn’t look at me any differently. I appreciated it.
Now with my new project at home underway, and not able to stay away from her for a minute longer, I knock on the bakery door, seeing her leaning against it.
“You’re back!” Her smile is wide, and I puff out my chest.
“How did it go?” I walk in and shut the door behind me, turning the closed sign around and looking over her.
“Why do I feel like I spent the day in my mixer?” She’s exhausted but happy if her soft smile and shiny eyes are anything to go by.
“Because your opening day was fucking phenomenal.” I push off the door and move closer to her. The cabinets, which housed all the fresh pastries this morning, are now empty. She sold out.
“That was amazing.” Her grin is wide, her eyes sparkling, and I’m proud of her.
“You should’ve seen the line at the door before we opened! I sold out of sourdough before noon. All the donuts and the cupcakes you iced were all gone by two, and the after-school rush cleaned me out of everything else. Thank goodness Melissa was here to help.”
I saw her line. I drove past here so many times today to check on things, but aside from helping her for a little bit, I gave her space to do her thing. Yet here I am, right on closing. I’m turning into a man I don’t recognize around her.
“And you. Thank you so much, Griffin…” She takes a step toward me.
“You came to my rescue earlier.” She lifts onto her tippy toes and places a small peck to my cheek.
My hands move automatically, holding her waist. The urge I have to turn my head to put my lips on hers is strong, but I resist. She lowers back down, my hands moving from her waist, one lingering to her side, where I grasp her fingers, them curling into mine a little.
My heart pumps a little faster than usual, my chest feeling warmer at the contact.
“You need to put your feet up.” I notice her cradling her bump, the one that seems to have doubled in size since I first met her over a month ago.
“Yeah right.” She snorts a laugh. “I need to get things ready for tomorrow.”
I frown, not liking that answer.
“Seriously?” I don’t know too much about baking and owning a bakery, but I guess she does need to replenish.
“I need to get some more sourdough proofing, get the cookie dough ready, more icing and cupcakes…” She looks around, rubbing her belly a little in one spot.
“Are you in pain?” My frown deepens. Not liking it. Hudson told her weeks ago she needed to rest and she hasn’t. I know she has a lot on her plate and not a lot of help, but she does need to take it easy. Her due date is almost here.
“No, just junior kicking my bladder again.”
I’m amazed. When she moved my hand to her bump last night, and I felt the baby kicking, I was in awe. Never felt anything like it.
“What are you going to do with the baby once it arrives and you’re here?” There’s no way she can work and have the baby, especially if the bakery is as busy as it was today.
“Let me show you.” Her grin is magnetic and she turns, her hold on my hand tightening as she pulls me into the kitchen.
“There,” she says, pointing to the spare area in her kitchen currently housing boxes and a few other bits and pieces.
“What?” My brow pinches, not getting it.
“I plan to put in a bassinet, a soft mat, some shelves to hold all the baby things. The baby can sleep while I serve and bake. Melissa was so good today, so she will help more. I also have a carrier so I can wear him or her during the day.”
“Wear?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“You know, wrap it to my chest. Like a backpack, but on my front.”
I still have no idea, but it seems practical.
“You haven’t been around babies much before, have you?” Her head tilts, her smile like the sun.
I grew up looking after my baby brother when my mom worked and my dad was too drunk to do anything other than yell. When he died, I never wanted to look after another kid. It hurt too much.
“No.”
“Hmmm, well, you’ll learn. I have a feeling this little one is going to love Grumpy Griff.” She grins, walking toward her bench and putting on a fresh apron as my eyebrow rises. Grumpy Griff.
She sighs, tired but happy. “I gotta get things ready before I fall into a heap.”
I watch her move around the kitchen for a moment before I look back at the space where she wants the baby setup to go.
“I’ve got to pop out. Be back later.”
“Okay.” Her smile widens as she gives me a little wave, and I turn and walk out before I get too lost in it, another new project already on my mind.
I step out onto Main Street and pause. Besides the clothes, the baby book, and a small bassinet I noticed in her apartment, I haven’t seen much other baby stuff around. I look up and down the street, not seeing a kids’ store, apart from the toy store, and I know they won’t have what she needs.
Fuck. I don’t even know exactly what she needs. I spot Sawyer’s law office across the street and stride over.
He has kids. He should know.
As I push through his doors, I’m greeted by silence.
“Hello?” My rough voice echoes before Sawyer pops out of his office down the hall.
“Hey, Griff, where’d the pretty blue apron go?” Sawyer grins at me like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I’m coiled tight, wanting to get everything perfect for Savannah before the baby comes.
“I need some help.” Ignoring his quip, I’ll get payback for that.
“I’m great, thanks for asking.” I look at him, deadpan, and he only grins wider.
“Jeez, do you ever smile? I thought for sure after your customer service in the bakery today, you would be more attuned to smiling. Looks like Savannah did a roaring trade.”
I nod. “She did. Sold out.”
“So, what do you need? Planning permits for Tanner? Building contracts for Sutton?”
“I want to get some things for Savannah,” I tell him, and he looks at me, confused.
“Things? Like what things?”
“Baby things.” His eyebrows rise, surprise written all over his face.
“Baby things? You know you’re in a law office, right?” His brow crumples, and I scrub my face.
“Well, you have kids, don’t you?”
“Yes, Griffin. I do. Kids. Not babies. Not yet anyway.”
“But you should know what they need, right?”
“I have no clue. I’m still trying to figure out how to make the perfect monster spray for Noah. Apparently, there’s a science to the glitter to water ratio that I can’t get right.”