8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
GRIFF
“I thought we were picking up lunch.” I frown as we cruise right past the sandwich place I have the list of orders for in my pocket.
“We are after a quick detour,” Stone says with a smirk.
I bite back a groan. A detour Stone came up with on the spot? It could be anything from a trip to a petting zoo that will end with us leaving with a truck bed full of goats to a quick stop at the local sex shop so he can buy a dildo to throw at someone. The only thing not on my bingo card is a detour to Ink Slingers.
We pull to a stop in front of the tattoo shop and my frown deepens.
“A ‘quick detour’ to get matching tattoos?”
He cackles and turns off his truck. “Maybe next time,” he says, nudging me and nodding towards the shop next door.
Little Shop of Flowers.
My heart rate kicks up.
“What—”
“We’re going straight to the source,” he explains, shoving his keys into his pocket and hopping out.
I stare at the flower shop for another second, a weird twist of nerves in my stomach. Maybe I don’t actually want to go in there and have it confirmed that those flowers were meant for someone else. Even if I don’t really believe it, it’s nice to pretend that I might have a secret admirer. I hesitate with my hand on the door handle until my curiosity finally gets the better of me. In the very unlikely event that the gifts were actually sent to me on purpose, it would be nice to know who’s sending them.
I sigh and hop out. Stone is already way ahead of me, stepping into the flower shop.
“You’d better not be here to fill my flower shop with goats as revenge,” the blond twink behind the counter says as soon as he spots Stone.
I hesitate with one foot inside the shop.
“Does it look like I brought the kids?” Stone gestures to the goat-less space around himself and the twink narrows his eyes suspiciously, then nods.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Seriously, I don’t care what Jag offers you, it would cost me thousands of dollars if you let a bunch of goats in here to eat my entire stock of flowers, so please, please don’t.”
Stone scoffs and puts a hand over his heart. “I would never . If I was going to prank a flower shop, I’d get Ren to bring a hive of bees.”
The twink, whose name tag reads ‘Lewis’ now that I’m close enough to see it, snorts a laugh and nods like he’s finally satisfied with Stone’s answer.
“Alright, what can I help you guys with?” Lewis glances over at me. “You’re Griff, right?”
I frown again. Should I know him? I grunt in response, and he grins.
“I’ve seen you around at a couple of the big cookouts. I’m dating the silver fox biker.” He jerks his head to the left. “He works over at Ink Slingers and drives a purple Harley.” He preens proudly and I just keep staring, not sure what he expects me to say to all that.
I’ve gotten roped into a couple of parties I couldn’t manage to come up with a good enough excuse to get out of. I guess I’ve probably seen him around and I suppose I have a vague memory of the boyfriend he’s describing, but I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. I’m not sure whether I should be proud of how well I’ve been pulling off the hermit thing or embarrassed about it.
I can imagine Riley shaking his head at me, giving me that soft, resigned smile and kissing my cheek. He didn’t want to change me, but he worried about me. He said more than a few times that if he was gone, I would probably cut the rest of the world off entirely and move to a cabin in the woods. He was half right, I guess. My gut tightens and a wave of guilt washes over me. I haven’t thought about him in days. I’ve been too busy thinking about other things. Thinking about Ledger and some mysterious secret admirer.
I stuff my hands into my pockets, hunching my shoulders, and I grunt at whatever Lewis is still saying that I’ve mostly tuned out.
I don’t have anything to feel guilty about. If anything, Riley would be more annoyed with me that it’s taken me so long to summon even a sliver of interest in anyone else. I huff and push the thoughts aside.
“Someone sent me flowers a couple of days ago. They were from this shop, but they didn’t have a name on them. I’m not even sure they were for me, actually. They were probably supposed to go to one of my neighbors or something. Maybe you can look up the order to see if a mistake was made?” I say.
“There wasn’t a mistake,” Stone insists. “We just want to figure out who his secret admirer is so he can take them to pound town.” He claps me on the shoulder, and I scowl, hoping neither of them notice the heat rising in my face.
Lewis cocks his head and grins a little wider.
“Hmm.” He turns to his computer and clicks away at the keyboard for a minute. “I have an order to be delivered to Griff,” he says, then he rattles off my address.
I give a sharp nod, and butterflies take up residence in my gut. “So, do you know who sent them then?”
He bites his lip and drums his fingers on the countertop.
“I do.”
I swallow hard and lean forward. Do I want to know?
“Come on, don’t leave us hanging,” Stone says impatiently.
“I… don’t know if I should. They must have left their name off the card for a reason, and I think I should respect that.” He clicks to close the order screen on the computer. “Florist-client confidentiality is something I take very seriously.”
“Don’t make me get the bees,” Stone deadpans.
Lewis narrows his eyes and puts his hands on his hips, straightening up to his full height, which honestly still isn’t all that impressive. “Don’t make me sic Jag on you.”
They glare at each other in a several-second standoff before Stone caves and sighs. He turns back to me and gives me a lopsided smile.
“Hey, at least we confirmed they were for you. That’s progress.”
Lewis gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anyway.” I rumble an almost-laugh and we head back out to pick up lunch like we originally planned.
If Lewis had told me who my secret admirer is, what would I have done with that information anyway? It’s better to leave it alone. Whoever it is will probably get bored and stop sending presents eventually anyway.
An unexpected smile twitches my lips as we ride back to the worksite though. It is kind of nice knowing someone is thinking about me. Whoever they are.
LEDGER
I’m just finishing up giving myself an impromptu haircut when I hear Griff knock on the door.
“I’m coming,” I shout, snipping one last strand before hustling down the hallway to the front door, shirtless, with a towel draped over my shoulders, still holding the pair of scissors in one hand.
I swing the door open and try not to audibly whimper at the sight of my big bear standing there with a sledgehammer over his shoulder. I bet he looks goooood swinging that thing around. I imagine the way his biceps must bulge and the grunt he probably puts behind the force of his swing. New kink unlocked.
“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out huskier than intended.
Griff’s eyes darken just a shade, and he grunts a greeting.
“Sorry, I lost track of time. I was just giving myself a quick trim.” I laugh and whip the towel off my shoulders.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t preen at the way his gaze lingers on my bare chest for a few extra seconds. I wave him in, and he steps inside. Instead of moving back to give him space though, I stay planted, eager to feel the heat of his body brushing past me. The quiet, restrained rumble he tries to swallow is all the assurance I need that he’s still eager for all the touch he can get, he just doesn’t know how to ask for it.
I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. He sighs and his eyelids flutter closed as he tilts his head slightly into my hand.
“You’re looking a little shaggy. You want me to take care of that for you while I’m in the zone?” I give his scalp a little scritch and a satisfied sound vibrates in his chest.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, then his eyes snap open like he didn’t expect to say that out loud.
I grin and give his hair one more slow stroke before untangling my fingers from it and draping my towel over his shoulder that isn’t supporting a sledgehammer.
“Come set that down first.” We detour through the living room. I managed to get a dumpster delivered this morning, so the chunks of ceiling are no longer piled up, leaving plenty of space for us to start tearing the drywall apart tonight.
He leans the sledgehammer against the couch as he follows me into the bathroom.
“Shirt off so I don’t get it all covered in hair,” I instruct, reaching into my shower to detach the shower head. “Then sit down next to the tub so I can get your hair wet first.”
He makes a noise in his throat then does what I asked. I try not to appear overeager as he strips his shirt off and hangs it from the hook on the back of my bathroom door. I really didn’t plan this as a creative way to put my hands on him again, but honestly, it’s an unintentionally genius move on my part. The only comfortable way for me to make this work is to crawl onto Griff’s lap and straddle him once he’s seated next to the tub.
His forehead scrunches and his lips twitch, his eyes boring into me as I get into place.
“Let me guess, this is how they give professional haircuts?” he rumbles, his mouth quirking momentarily into a smile that’s gone too fast.
“Only if you tip extra,” I say solemnly, and his lips quiver again. “Now, just tilt your head back and relax,” I say in a soothing voice.
Griff lets out a long breath that kind of reminds me of the one a horse does right before it relaxes to let you tighten the saddle. His shoulders sag a little and he holds his hands up awkwardly for a second, like he can’t quite figure out what to do with them, before he settles for resting them on my thighs. Then, he leans his head back and closes his eyes. It’s somehow both sweet and a little hilarious to watch him go through such a long process to just relax.
I lean over him, our bare chests pressing against each other, my rapidly hardening cock against his belly. Like always, I can smell sawdust and sweat on his skin, and something kind of woodsy underneath. I want to bury my nose in his throat and just inhale. I want to lick him all over and make him gasp. I have to reach a little farther to be able to turn the water on, and then I settle my weight on his lap, feeling his answering stiffness against the inside of my thigh.
“How was work today?” I ask in that same soothing voice, testing the water to make sure it’s warm enough, then aiming it at his hair. I card my fingers through it again, nice and slow, massaging his scalp.
He grunts, and for a second, I figure he’s not going to answer. That’s okay, fuck knows I can talk enough for the two of us if I have to. But then his lips part and the tension in his face smooths out.
“Finished framing the house today, so that’s something,” he says. I hum in response and keep running my fingers through his hair even though it’s plenty damp for a haircut. “And Stone—he’s one of my bosses—dragged me to the flower shop during lunch to try to find out who sent me those flowers.”
I still, my heart pounding. Can he feel it against his chest? I don’t mind if he finds out I’m his secret admirer—it’s not like I’m exactly playing coy about my interest in him. But what if it’s too soon and it freaks him out?
“Sorry. That’s weird, right?” he says, misinterpreting my lack of response. He opens his eyes and frowns at me. “We’re… hooking up or, you know, whatever it is…” He stumbles over his words, and I flatten my lips, trying not to laugh.
I flex my hips a little so he can feel the drag of my erection against his belly again. He makes another gravelly sound in his chest and his fingers tighten on my thighs.
“Or whatever,” I agree with a teasing quirk of my lips. “What, you think I’m jealous of your secret admirer?”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t even sure the flowers were meant for me. I figured they were supposed to go to someone else and I got them by mistake.”
My heart gives a twinge, and I turn off the water but keep massaging his head, loving the way he leans into me without seeming to realize it, huffing happy little sounds that make me want to nibble on his lips.
“Why wouldn’t they be for you?” I shake my head and go on without giving him a chance to respond, because something tells me he could easily rattle off a list of reasons why he thinks he doesn’t deserve flowers or attention. “Anyone with half a brain should be following you around like a lovesick puppy.”
He screws his face up in confusion and then barks out a loud laugh.
“You’re…” He shakes his head just a little, as much as he can with my fingers tangled in his wet hair. “Thanks.”
Instead of saying anything, I just brush a kiss to his cheek. His eyelids flutter again, and he lets out a soft sigh.
I could stay here all night massaging his head and complimenting him, but I’m sure he’d like to get around to work at some point, and I’d really love to get around to the ‘payment’ portion of the evening. Biting back a wicked grin, I untangle my fingers from his hair and climb off of his lap.
“Come on.” I offer him my hand to help him up. “Sit there.” I point to the closed toilet, and he takes a seat.
While I trim his hair, I ask a few more questions, trying to get him to open up a little more, but it seems like maybe I’ve gotten all I’m going to out of him for one night. Like I said, that’s fine, I can certainly talk enough for two, or even three if I’m in the right mood. So I chatter away about testing the lakes for blue-green algae and the woman who swore to me she saw a grizzly bear even though there’s no evidence of grizzlies anywhere in Wisconsin.
“Maybe it was bigfoot,” he says with a shrug, his lips twitching again with an almost-smile.
I cackle. “Maybe. It’s more likely than a grizzly, honestly.”
As eager as I am to get on with the night, I take my time with his haircut. It’s obvious from the way he purrs and leans into every stroke of my fingers that he needs all the attention I’m willing to give him, and even if Griff doesn’t know or believe it yet, there’s no limit to the attention I’m willing to shower on him. I might be a bit stubborn about my choices in closed-off men at times, but there’s one thing Griff will learn about me if he gives me half a chance, and it’s that I don’t do anything halfway.