Chapter 6 Georgia
Breakfast with Nana is usually a calm affair—if by “calm” you mean nonstop commentary, unsolicited life advice, and the occasional mention of Nana’s previous sex life and why she loves anal sex, or Elvis’s gyrating hips. I would have thought those conversations would have prepared me for anything.
They did not.
From the moment Nana told Griffin to take a seat at the island, I knew I was about to walk through the valley of the shadow of death.
I was not wrong. Now, I’m sitting here watching Griffin laugh at my Nana’s risqué jokes, looking as if he belongs here.
He’s currently eating his breakfast, coffee mug in hand, looking as if he owns the place.
There’s a lazy grin on his full lips that should come with a warning label.
Sadly, it’s too late for my Nana. She’s currently perched beside him, completely besotted with the man.
“You remind me of my Patrick,” she tells him, stabbing a sausage patty with her fork. “Doesn’t he, Georgie? Doesn’t Griffy look just like your grandfather?”
“Griffy? Nana, do you really think you should nickname a biker that we don’t even know?”
“I gave her permission and I’m your man, not some biker, Georgie,” Griffin reprimands, somehow instantly making me feel ashamed.
I don’t respond. I’m not sure I could anyway.
I feel like I disappointed him, and I hate that feeling.
What in the hell is wrong with me? “I remind you of your husband, Nana?”
“Yep,” she says, nodding so hard it’s a wonder the woman doesn’t get whiplash. “You’re as cocky as he was too.”
“Some people might say being cocky is a bad thing,” he jokes, half-smile curling up one corner of his mouth, right before he takes another sip of his coffee. There’s no way I can deny how goodlooking he is. I’m not even going to try.
“That’s because it is,” I chime in.
“Horse feathers,” Nana declares. “Nothin’ wrong with being cocky, just as long as you can back it up. Besides, I got a feelin’ Griffy here can.”
Griffin coughs to cover a laugh, and I nearly choke on my coffee. “Nana, no. Stop flirting with Griffin.”
She ignores me completely. “You know, you even look like my Patrick, Griffy.”
“Oh my God, Nana! He does not!” I yell, throwing up my hands. “Now you’re just making things up.”
“I am not,” she says, completely unbothered. “He does look like your grandfather.”
“Nana, Granddad was Irish.”
“So?”
“So, he was pale as a ghost, covered in freckles—”
“That he was,” she agrees at once. “I used to love to use my tongue all over his body, playing connect the dots with those freckles.”
“Focus, Nana. Grandfather also had flaming red hair, green eyes, and was about five-nine. He looked nothing like Griffin,” I grumble.
Griffin takes a sip of his coffee, smirking. “I like it when you use my name, Georgie.”
I blink at him, wondering how my life turned completely upside down and I didn’t even notice it.
Nana waves a hand, getting our attention. “I was tryin’ to explain that it’s Griffy’s aura that makes him look like Patrick.”
“His aura?” I stare at her. “Nana, you don’t even know what an aura is.”
“Oh, I certainly do.” She leans in, whispering like she’s revealing state secrets. “It’s the reason I married your grandfather. His aura screamed BDE.”
I frown. “What on earth is BDE?”
Griffin shakes his head immediately. “You don’t want to ask that, darlin’,” he says, while choking on his laughter which keeps trying to take over. He’s enjoying this way too much, damn it.
“Oh yeah?” I huff, tired of watching Griffin enjoying himself at what seems my expense because my grandmother is on his side and not mine.
“Well, I did ask her, and I want to know,” I huff, folding my arms and pinning them both with a stare designed to set them both on fire—unfortunately, it doesn’t work. “Nana, tell me what BDE is?”
She grins, eyes twinkling. “Big Dick Energy.”
“Oh my God,” I squeak, feeling mortified. My reaction gets to Griffin as he bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his coffee. I, on the other hand, want the earth to open up and swallow me whole.
“Nana!” I squeak. “You can’t say that!”
“Why not? It’s the truth. Your grandfather had it. All I’m sayin’ is that Griffy here does too.”
Griffin wipes at his mouth, still laughing. “Thanks for the compliment, Nana. I haven’t had any complaints at all.”
My grandmother beams at Griffin, acting as if the sun rises and set for him alone.
“I bet you haven’t,” Nana flirts, patting his hand a little too much.
Meanwhile, I’m debating if a judge will convict me if I choke my own grandmother.
Griffin pushes back from the counter and stands, still chuckling.
Then he leans down and—without warning—presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“I hate to leave, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “But I have to go.” My heart does a full gymnastics routine inside my chest. His voice is all gravel and warmth, and I can feel the ghost of his breath against my skin. “You really shouldn’t be kissing me,” I manage to say, despite feeling short of breath.
He tugs gently at a loose strand of my hair, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You’re so damn cute.”
Nana, unhelpfully, chimes in, “You gonna confirm I read your aura right, Griffy?”
He winks. “Like I said, I haven’t had any complaints.”
“I bet you haven’t,” she says smugly. “I’ll get my Georgie to give me the details soon. You need to get on that. My girl has been sorely neglected by the gentlemen callers in this area.”
“I’ll be working very hard on that—”
“Oh!” Nana cries, clapping her damn hands. “I see what you did there!”
Griffin laughs and I just hold my head down at this point. “Still, there needs to be an understanding that there will be no other men calling for Georgie. Just me.”
I cover my face. “Can we please finish breakfast without any more of this conversation?”
Griffin laughs, pulling me to him. “You just make sure you’re ready for our date tonight, Georgie.”
I gape. “I thought you said you don’t do dates.”
“I don’t,” he admits with a sexy grin. “But I’m willin’ to make an exception for you.”
“I haven’t even agreed to go,” I remind him.
“I know,” he tosses back, “but Nana has already promised she’d have you ready.”
“I did, boy!” Nana calls from the kitchen. Until this moment, I didn’t even realize he was leading me out of the room. What is he doing to me? “Don’t you worry, she’ll be gorgeous!”
I look to the heavens and press my hands together. “Dear Lord, please let all of this just be a horrible nightmare.”
Sadly, The Man Upstairs doesn’t answer. All I hear is Griffin laughing. “Walk me out, Georgie,” he all but orders.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Live dangerously,” he says, smirking.
“I’m in pajamas,” I protest.
“If anyone looks at you,” he says gently, “I’ll kill them.”
“Will you stop being insane.”
He grins that dangerous, teasing grin. “I was serious. You’re mine to hold, touch, kiss, and cherish. You’re my old lady, Georgie. No one else gets to look at you and they definitely don’t get to touch you.”
I stare at him like he’s grown three heads. “Old lady?”
He laughs. “In my world, ‘old lady’ means you’re my woman. It’s not something that is taken lightly. Think of it as a marriage without paperwork.
“You are freaking insane. I’m not your old lady. I barely know you, Griffin.”
“You will. All of that will come in time.” His voice dips lower. “Now kiss me, Georgie, so I can leave.”
My brain screams it’s a bad idea. What is even scarier, though, is that for some reason I really want to kiss him. I should be freaked the hell out and part of me is, but I’m starting to feel like there’s a bigger part that wants this. That wants him.
Before I can continue to question myself, I feel Griffin’s hand cupping my cheek. I force my complete attention back to him. His hand is rough, warm, and somehow grounding. It also makes me forget how to breathe.
His face gets closer, eliminating the distance between us, making my heart pound inside my chest. As his lips brush against mine, I whimper.
The kiss is soft at first, testing the waters.
When I eagerly return his kiss, he deepens it—robbing me of air, thought, and logic.
His scent of leather and cigarettes, permeates the area around me.
I enjoy the hypnotic pull of him, letting the world fade away.
Now, there’s only me and him and that’s exactly what I want right now.
Just when I start to think maybe—maybe—this morning isn’t a total disaster, a sharp popping noise splits the air around us.
Then another.
“What the—”
Before I can finish my question, several more pops explode around us. Griffin’s entire body tenses. In one motion, he shoves me down, covering me with his weight. Pain explodes in my body as I hit the ground hard.
“What are you—Get off me!” I gasp, starting to get scared. I feel lost and so confused.
“Hush, Georgie,” he whispers fiercely, over me as he presses me tight between his body and the hard, uncompromising ground beneath me. “Don’t move. Someone’s shooting at us.”
My body goes rigid. For a second, I don’t process the words.
Then I hear it again—the sharp, awful popping—and the panic hits.
My heart races, as my breath starts coming too fast and very ragged.
I’m drowning in fear when Griffin adjusts his position, still keeping me covered but pulling a gun out and shooting in the direction of the road.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God.” I say those words over and over. It becomes a panicked mantra—or prayer. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to hold onto hope that we survive.