Chapter 26
Cricket
I’m surprisingly calm.
Last week, my nerves were eating me alive, turning me into a person I don’t want to be. But Griffin relieved my anxiety when he stepped up for Jacob. Without question. Without hesitation. He didn’t even ask me to prove anything. He just believed me.
I could justify it any way I want to slice it, but the bottom line is, Griffin trusted me. He made me happy for my son to have his dad in his life, but maybe there’s also room for me in there somewhere. For the first time, I wonder if fairy tales really do exist?
Without another car in sight and no streetlights, I squint into the darkness ahead.
I have no idea where this turnoff is, so I slow down to glance at my phone and the directions Griffin sent.
According to him, the turnoff should be right about here.
I stop, spotting an opening in the dilapidated fence falling on the right side, and pull in.
Maybe I should tell Savvy where I am, just in case I pulled onto the wrong property and am about to be murdered. My headlights land on the back of Griffin’s tailgate, and I breathe easier. Thank God.
I park next to him. Before I can cut the engine, he’s coming around to my door with a big smile on his face. T-shirt just the way I like it, clinging to his biceps, jeans that he sure knows how to wear, and that hair that looks like he’s been running his fingers through for the past hour.
He opens my door and takes my hand. I’m swept into his arms and spun until my back is pressed to his truck. Our lips lock, and we share every breath. When he sets me on my feet, he holds the sides of my face like I’m precious. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“No, tell me.” I give him a dose of his own smirky medicine.
He grins, but it’s his eyes that have me wholly captivated. My knees weaken under his adoring gaze, and goose bumps erupt under his touch as he slides his hands down my neck and over my shoulders. When he takes my hand, I would literally follow this man anywhere. “I want to show you something.”
“Yeah?” I ask, clinging to his arm on a double step like a giddy schoolgirl. “What is it?”
“A surprise. I think you’ll like it. I hope you do.” I catch a hint of nervous excitement in his voice.
Although I find surprises hit or miss most of the time, I have no idea what I’m getting into, no expectation other than spending time with him. Anything else is the cherry on top. But I do think it’s fun to see this side of him, the one that cockiness has clearly never met.
His excitement is contagious, though, so I kiss his arm as we walk toward the back of the house. “The lights are on inside?”
“I spent some time out here today. Brought my dad and brother out to check the structure.” We walk onto the huge back porch that spans the length of the house. It could easily fit a porch swing and a whole host of rocking chairs on one side alone.
When I look at the other side, a daybed hangs from the ceiling. It looks too new, the wood freshly stained. Sheets with tiny floral detailing line the bed with a woven blanket and pillows freshly fluffed. “Did you do that?”
“Do you like it?”
I stand in astonishment, quickly taking in the effort again, and then look at him. “Did you make that for me?”
“Yeah.” He looks down at his feet when he scuffs the heel of his boot along the wooden porch. “It’s not fancy. Just some wood.”
“I love it, Griffin.” Still holding his arm, I lean my head against it, staring at the bed that he made for us, for me. When I glance down, I say, “You swept the porch.”
“It was a dusty mess. I can’t have you covered in dirt.”
I don’t know when I died, but this must be heaven. My heart is in his hands, and my love is budding for him. Who am I kidding? I felt the stages four years ago. Every day since we’ve reunited, it’s only grown stronger.
He says, “I want to show you around inside.”
Holding my hand like it’s the only hope of keeping me from floating away, which he might be right about if swoons come in the form of helium, he opens the back door for me. I step inside, unable to hold my mouth closed. “Griffin.” It’s all I can manage as I look around the house.
I expected old-fashioned and dated, dusty, and doilies for some reason.
I suppose because Mr. Riggins was older.
That’s not what this is. A lamp in the corner illuminates the living room in a golden hue, bouncing the light off bright white walls and delicate sheers on the windows.
The furnishings are simple in a structured design, beige with blue pillows, and yellows to highlight the contrast. The blanket tossed over the arm of the couch even appears to be modern in design.
He says, “I haven’t touched the other rooms, but I really think I can turn this place around.
My brother said he’ll help.” I turn back to look because I’m not sure I’ve heard this kind of excitement from him before.
“He’s just finished renovating his home a few miles up the road from here. That one was in terrible disrepair—”
“This home isn’t.”
“No, this home is structurally sound and has solid bones to work with. Mr. Riggins was a home builder back in his day. He had things that homes of his time didn’t have, like the pot filler in the kitchen.
His wife was Italian and loves to cook.” He crosses the room and pats the side of a wall that divides the space from the kitchen.
“This isn’t load bearing, so we can open it up like at your place if that’s your preferred style. ”
I sit in a leather chair, keeping myself perched on the edge of the cushion.
I watch Griffin disappear into the kitchen.
There’s a light, but it’s not bright enough to be the overhead.
He says, “There’s a banquette. I’ve always liked banquettes.
” Returning to the living room, he sits on the couch.
“I can see a family gathered around the table puzzling together.”
“Puzzling?” That’s different. “Not playing games?”
“Sure, we can play games, but it would be fun to puzzle together, too.” When he jumps from using the word “family” and “we” when this all started with designing it in my favorite style, I’m inclined to ask, “Who are you remodeling this house for?”
“I . . .” Pausing his words, he sits forward, turning his gaze to the coffee table in front of him.
My heart starts to beat out of my chest waiting for him to reply.
For such a large man, his frame is bent forward, the excitement he just had lost to stormy clouds in his usually clear blue eyes.
When he stands, he scratches the back of his neck, clearly choosing his next words carefully.
He finally looks over at me and says, “I thought it would be easier for Jacob to be in a home like his own.”
“Oh . . . um.” I blink several times in hopes of keeping humiliation from burrowing under my skin. “Sorry. Of course.” I wave my hand for no reason other than those nerves I thought I didn’t have are now running rampant through my veins. “Jacob will love it.”
I pop to my feet and drag my sweating palms down the front of my jeans, hoping he just thinks I’m straightening the wrinkles out.
They’re denim, so it’s highly unlikely he’ll fall for that excuse.
Why is my heart a little broken? The more we say, the worse I feel.
I walk toward the door, thinking it’s best if I just remove myself from the situation. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”
“Are you okay?”
I look back with one foot on the porch. “I’m fine.”
Outside, I turn to see the daybed, made pretty for me. That’s something I can hold on to, something just for me. For tonight, at least. Why am I upset? Is it really embarrassment over a simple mistake?
Warm hands cover my shoulders from behind, and then he rubs. “You have a really nice home.”
I nod, choking on my gluttony of wanting more . . . more with him. “It is. It’s really nice.”
His breath coats my neck before he plants a kiss on the side of it. He comes around and sits on the bed in front of me. “Then what’s going on?” Taking both my hands in his, he says, “Talk to me, Little Chirp.”
“I got caught up, that’s all. It’s fine. You don’t need to worry. I think it’s great that you’re doing all this for Jacob. He’ll need a place to sleep when he’s with you.” A pang shoots through my chest. I grab at my shirt as if that will relieve it, but it still clenches inside me.
Griffin pulls me closer to lean against the inside of his legs. “You’re always welcome here, babe. Not only when Jacob is here. My door is always open to you.”
Finding comfort in his words, I arch into him and loop my arms around his neck. “You’re quite the charmer when you want to be.”
“Shh. Don’t let my secret out.” His arms fall around my lower back before his hands slide down to grab a good handful of my ass. That doesn’t even make him less charming. It just spurs me on to want more with him on this daybed.
“If it matters, I think your secret is already out.” I pull my grin to the side to keep it from growing. And fail miserably.
Squeezing my backside, he says, “It only matters what you think.”
“And there you go again, making me fall for your smooth lines and stupidly handsome face.” I kiss him because when I’m honest with myself, I know that’s why I wanted to meet up. Does that make me weak to him? I don’t think I care anymore. Life just feels good with him, and I want to enjoy it.
But he pulls back, looking me in the eyes, and says, “You think I’m stupidly handsome?” His brows waggle once, but it’s that roguish grin that’s driving me wild.
“Devilishly good-looking.”
Sliding his hands higher, he drags the hem of my shirt with them. “Go on.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. My chest feels less constrained, and my feelings are not hurt anymore. “Deliciously doable.”
“Deliciously doable?” He chuckles. “That’s a new one, but I approve. Give me more.”
“Hey,” I say, toying with the collar of his tee. “Shouldn’t you be charming me?”
Dragging two fingers over my collarbone, he says, “I can do that, but I’m going to need you to lie down first.”
I grin. “Oh, really? And why is that?”
“No reason other than I want to see you naked again.”
I tug my top over my head. “Fine. You win, ya big charmer.” I already know I’ll come out ahead on this deal.
The way he looks at me like I’m an aphrodisiac has me ready to come the moment he touches me.
So yeah, I toss my top to the railing while toeing off my shoes.
I strip off my jeans and then stand there in my navy blue set I’ve never worn before.
You’d think I was naked by how he’s studying my body like he might be quizzed on it later. I’m ready for him to touch me, or even better, make love to me now. He unabashedly gives me a once-over and then has the gall to say, “Spin for me.”
Planting my hand on my hip, I eye him. “Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He stares at me like I’m the one who’s acting ludicrous. “Why do you want me to spin for you?”
“I want to appreciate your form.” Using his finger, he circles it in the air. “Please spin.” I give in, slowly at first, but then sway my hips a little more and raise my arms into the air so he gets a good eyeful. I like his eyes on me anyway, so it’s a win-win for both of us. “Now dance for me.”
“You’re out of your cockamamie mind if you think I’m dancing for you.” I shove him back on the bed, then climb over this man who rivals Mount Everest. “You got my clothes off. You had me spin for you.” Straddling him, I lean down and hover over his face. “Now it’s my turn.”