Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GRIFFIN
“What’s funny?” I asked.
Winn had been holding back giggles since we’d left the grocery store. “Nothing.”
The twitch at the corner of her mouth said otherwise. “Baby. Spill it.”
“I’ve just never ridden in your truck.”
“Okay,” I drawled, pulling to a stop in front of my house. “Why’s that funny?”
“Because it’s filthy.” Her pretty laugh broke free.
“You are the neatest, tidiest man I’ve ever met.
If I leave a crumb on the counter, you sweep it up.
I’ve never seen your hampers overflowing with dirty clothes.
When you shave, there’s not a whisker you don’t rinse down the drain. But this truck . . .”
I shrugged. “It’s a ranch truck.”
Keeping it clean was practically impossible. Working in the dirt all day meant I’d inevitably bring it in on my boots. The same was true with straw and hay. And most of the time, I preferred rolling the windows down to using the air conditioner, so dust was a given.
“I like that it’s messy.” She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned across the console, kissing the underside of my jaw. “It makes you real.”
“I’m as real as it gets for you, Winslow.” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Her dark blue eyes softened and she leaned her cheek into my palm.
Neither of us moved. We just sat there, touching, our eyes locked as we soaked in the quiet moment.
Still moments had been scarce these past two weeks.
The topic of Briggs had mostly been avoided in that time. It was a raw subject, for us both.
Winn had done what she’d needed to do. She’d been right to put me in my place. Mom and Dad had both taken her side too. Yes, they’d called a lawyer, but neither had faulted her for asking Briggs some questions.
Since then, she’d spent some time hiking around Indigo Ridge and the trails that led from the cliff to Briggs’s cabin. She’d asked me first, giving me the same respect she would have any other land owner. Otherwise, she’d gone about doing what she needed to do while I’d focused on the ranch.
We were in the thick of summer haying. The swathers and balers were running from sunup to sundown.
The end of July was always a hectic time.
We were constantly moving cattle herds from one pasture to the next to ensure the grass wasn’t overgrazed during these hot summer days.
Weeds had to be sprayed. Equipment fixed.
One of our tractors had broken down earlier this week, so I’d spent the better part of two days with our mechanic, both of us covered in grease, working to get it fixed.
By the time I made it home each night, I was dead on my feet.
Winn had been busy at the station and spending time with Covie. She’d leave each morning, and the daily worry about her would settle in as an underlying current to the day. The distraction of work helped, but I wouldn’t really breathe until she was here. Under my roof. In my bed.
I liked that my house was becoming her place.
A few nights this week, she’d beat me home.
I’d find her inside, shoes discarded by the door and wearing one of my T-shirts, her own uniform top usually on the floor beside the hamper instead of inside it.
One night she’d been on the porch, drinking a glass of wine.
Sooner rather than later, I wanted this to be her only sanctuary. Considering that the rest of her furniture had arrived at her house in town but she hadn’t unboxed it yet, I was taking it as a good sign.
“We’d better get these groceries inside,” she said.
“Yeah.”
She leaned in for one more kiss, then climbed out.
I met her at the tailgate, popping it open. As she looped plastic bags over her forearms, I did the same before following her inside. Then we came out for the second load since my fridge and pantry had been nearly bare.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up the old hubcap Mateo had found weeks ago.
“Trash. You know the place I bought by Indigo Ridge, across the road?”
“Yeah.” She dragged her finger across the word Jeep, indented into the metal.
“That guy had about a million old cars parked all over the place. Mateo found that along the road that leads to the ridge. I think I’ll be finding rusted parts here and there for the rest of my life.”
“Ah.” She tossed it deeper into the truck bed before grabbing the last bag.
We worked together in the kitchen to unload. It was simple. Boring and dull. But something about going to the grocery store together, pushing a cart up and down aisles, about moving in tandem through the kitchen, made me fall for her just a little bit more.
Maybe because it felt like this space had been waiting for her all along.
“We bought all this food.” She stood at the open refrigerator. “And I have no idea what I feel like eating for dinner.”
I chuckled. “Steak and potatoes? I could grill.”
“Perfect. What can I do?”
“Kiss the cook.”
She shut the fridge and walked over to where I stood against the counter, fitting herself against my chest. Her hands snaked around my waist, dipping beneath the hem of my shirt.
The moment her palms flattened on the bare skin of my back, my mouth was on hers. Our tongues battled that delicious war.
Seconds away from tearing her shirt off, I froze when I heard the front door open.
“Griffin, if your dick is out, this is your five-second warning to put it away before the girls get here.” Knox’s voice carried down the hallway.
I tore my mouth away from Winn’s, wiping it dry. “Go away.”
He ignored me, emerging from the entryway. When he strode into the kitchen, it was for Winn. “Hi, I’m Knox.”
Winn cleared her throat and stepped away, no longer shielding the bulge behind my zipper. “Hi. I’m Winslow.”
“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, then shot me a look. “Finally.”
The dinner date I’d promised her at the restaurant hadn’t happened. Partly because we’d been busy. Partly because we both seemed content to lock ourselves away together.
“The girls are bringing dinner.” Knox went to the fridge and pulled out one of my beers. “And I’m taking the rare evening not to be in charge of a meal.”
“Wait.” I held up a finger. “What dinner?”
“Mom said you were home and that she saw Winslow’s car here. So we’re invading.” He turned to Winn. “Making sure you know there’s no hard feelings about the Briggs thing and that the only one to get riled up about it was you.”
Winn’s frame relaxed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Knox winked at her.
I sighed, grateful for the show of support even if I wasn’t overly excited about a full house. “So everyone’s coming here?”
Knox shook his head. “Mom and Dad already had plans.”
“What if we had plans?”
“Did you?” Knox asked Winn.
“No.” She laughed. “Just dinner.”
“See?” He tipped his beer to me, then after a drink, went back to the fridge to get me one. “Drink this and relax. Be grateful we’ve given you two this long.”
I took the bottle, twisted off the top and offered it to Winn. “You might need this.”
“The girls are bringing sangria,” Knox said.
“Oh, I’ll wait for that.” Winn waved off my beer.
“But . . .” Knox raised his eyebrows. “Eloise made the sangria.”
I cringed. “Baby, you’d better stick with beer. Or I’ll open a bottle of wine for you.”
“What’s wrong with Eloise’s sangria?” she asked.
“Mom likes to joke that she gifted us kids her cooking talent, except because she gave so much to Knox and Lyla, by the time Eloise and Mateo were born, there was nothing left for them.”
“There’s a chance the sangria might kill you,” Knox said.
Winn swiped the beer bottle from my hand.
I went to the fridge for my own. The moment the top was off, the front door opened again and the chatter of voices was like someone had found the house’s volume dial and cranked it to the max.
“Christ, they are loud,” Knox muttered.
“You don’t get to complain.” I shot him a glare. “This was your idea.”
“Actually, it was mine.” Lyla waltzed into the kitchen with three plastic containers, each a varying shade of green. “Hi, Winslow.”
“Hi, Lyla.” Winn waved, and I was glad she was taking it in stride.
Winn was going to be a part of my life—no ifs, just facts—and my family invaded. It was their nature. Hell, I invaded too. Though usually it was by stopping to see them at work instead of showing up on their front doorstep.
Talia and Eloise came in next, the former carrying a platter of preformed burger patties and the latter with a pitcher of sangria.
“Hey, Winn.” Talia set the burgers down, then rounded the island to pull Winn into a hug. “How are you? How’s Covie?”
“I’m good. And he’s feeling great. Slightly annoyed at the amount of vegetables I’ve introduced to his life.”
“Good.” Talia let Winn go, making space for Eloise, who also gave her a hug.
“Hi, Winn.”
“Hi, Eloise. How’s your hotel?”
“Amazing.” My baby sister beamed. “Technically it’s Mom and Dad’s hotel but . . .”
“They’d be lost without you.” I moved closer to pull her into a sideways hug. “Hey, kid.”
Eloise’s blue eyes sparkled as she smiled up at me. “Hey, big brother.”
“You doing okay?”
She nodded, relaxing into my side. “Just busy. You know how it is during the summers.”
The Eloise Inn was the heart of Quincy.
And Eloise was the heart of the inn.
“Eloise is my favorite sibling,” I told Winn.
“Uh . . .” Winn’s eyes widened, looking to my other siblings. “Are you supposed to say that out loud?”
“We all have favorites.” Knox chuckled. “Lyla is mine.”
“Griff is mine,” Lyla said, popping the lid on one container, flooding the kitchen with a savory smell that made my stomach growl.
“You all have favorites. Really?” Winn laughed, then pointed between the twins. “And you two aren’t each other’s?”
“I love Lyla most because we shared a womb,” Talia said. “But my favorite is Matty.”
“Where is Mateo?” I asked, keeping one arm around Eloise while the other tipped the beer bottle to my lips.
On cue, the front door burst open. “Party’s here!”