Chapter 28
Griffin
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
I hold Cricket tighter in some lame attempt to make this night last longer, though I know I can’t keep her here forever.
I’d eventually be arrested. The subtle movement of her smile growing against my chest allows me to relax, settling me into the moment for just a minute longer.
“That doesn’t scare you?” I prop my head up by resting it on my arm so I can see her.
She lifts her head and rests her chin on her arm over my ribs.
With her eyes already peering up at me under dark lashes, she replies, “No. It doesn’t scare me.
I know you’re not expecting me to jump the Dover Creek ship.
” Her eyes glance at the house, then return to mine. “But it’s crossed my mind before.”
This is news. Stroking her head, I could lie like this with her all night and listen to her middle-of-the-night confessions.
It’s unwarranted to grin from the possibility that we could be here together one day, permanently, but not everything has to be a well-thought-out plan.
“Something I learned while traveling was to let go of what everyone else expected of me. I had the privilege of money, time, and enough youth to be careless sometimes.”
“I was careless once.” A cheeky smile squeezes her lips together, but that sparkle in her eyes is too brilliant to miss.
“Tell me all about it.”
“Well,” she says, moving beside me. With her head on a pillow next to mine, she faces me.
“There was this sultry night in Central America. My cousin and I reunited with a couple of other friends who moved after high school for a few days of sunbathing, spa treatments, and relaxation.” The blanket has been discarded to the end of the bed, and I’m mesmerized by how the sheet follows the flow of her body.
Sliding my hand under, I rest it on the peak of her hip.
Her skin is warm like the night air, and as my gaze travels the hills and valleys, I land on her lips.
The seductive pink plush draws me forward to steal a kiss before falling back into place.
She licks her lips right after, as if she wants to taste me before it fades. “What was that for?”
“No reason. So it was a sultry night . . .”
“Relaxing for two days got boring, so we went out for dinner and dancing.” She chuckles to herself as if the memory evoked it.
“I wanted to see the ocean and the stars and to cool off by getting out of that stuffy bar. So we left. I didn’t get twenty feet from the door before I saw a god among men walking down the street. ”
“I like this story.”
“Thought you might,” she says, cracking a bigger smile for me.
Dragging my fingers over her arm and higher to her neck, I study the bluff of her jaw and trace along the edge. “Tell me more about this god among men.”
Her laughter is heartier this time, with no air of tension or rush to return to her home. She doesn’t even appear tired, not that I want to waste time sleeping. “Golden tan and wild locks of hair on top bleached from the sun as if he spent his days surfing and his nights sleeping under the moon.”
“I like him.”
Winning another laugh from her has me grinning like a victor on the podium stand. She leans closer, and whispers, “Me, too, but don’t tell him.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I murmur, and mime locking my lips and tossing the key behind me. “I think you left off after sleeping under the moon.”
Her chest rattles with laughter again. “Where would I be if you weren’t here to keep me on track when it comes to him?”
“He’s a fascinating man. Books should be written about him.”
“I heard there was a billboard once.”
Chuckling, I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling of the porch, which is another project I mentally add to the endless to-do list of this house. “Ah. The infamous billboard.” Glancing at her, I ask, “How’d you know about that?”
“Word gets around these parts.”
I narrow my eyes at her, not sure that would be something she’d hear recently. “It’s old news.”
“It’s new news to me.” She reaches over and doodles on my arm. When I shift my gaze to the ceiling again, two of her fingers travel up my arm, then down onto my chest, where she scrapes her nails lightly across a spot before gently rubbing to soothe it. “Will you tell me about it?”
“The god among men was much more interesting.” I roll my head to the side and look into her eyes.
I discover something new every time I see them.
This time is no different, but it’s something I probably shouldn’t have noticed after what happened earlier between us—a future together.
The subtle change in green, caught between the electric and the sage, settles in on softened marine that has me craving to dive into her again.
I blink several times to clear this urgent pull I have to her as if we’ve become latched together and destiny is cranking the winch.
Draping my arm over my closed eyes, I start to realize how much I care what Cricket thinks, how much I love hearing her speak, the sound of her laughter, and how she looks at me. I realize how much I care about her.
Tethered . . .
“The moment I saw him, I knew he’d be the father of my kids—”
“What?” I’m wide fucking awake and have been dropped right back the fuck into reality. “What do you mean you knew I’d be the father of your kids?”
Cackling, she wraps her arms over her stomach. “I thought I was losing you, so I thought I’d hook you back into the story.”
I relax on the exhale of a heavy breath. “I was here.”
“You sure?” A dose of sympathy echoes through her expression. “You looked like you either drifted off to sleep or your thoughts had wandered off.” Lifting onto her elbow, she says, “I can go if you want?”
Reaching over, I graze my hand across her shoulder. “No. I don’t want that at all. I’m listening.” I manage a smile despite the hurricane of emotions destroying any reasonable thought I might be having. It’s been a week, not even. I shouldn’t feel this strongly about her. It’s too soon. Too fast.
But a niggling at the back of my mind is quick to remind me that this is four years in the making. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love with the mother of my child.
Love . . .
Holy shit.
I’m thirty-fucking-five. Love isn’t something I’ve ever recklessly fallen into.
With Cricket, though, I’m caught in her quicksand with no way to survive from going under.
Shit. I swallow, the sound louder than intended.
She glances at my throat and then higher, and asks, “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Totally fine. Never better.” I clamp my mouth shut to stop the bleeding, but it might be too late. She’s already onto me.
“Griffin?”
“Yeah?” She doesn’t say anything, but she does stare like I’ve morphed into an alien. “What is it?”
As if she’s holding her breath, she doesn’t blink. And then her body depletes when she releases the next one. “What’s going on? I can tell something’s wrong. Talk to me. Please.”
What do I say? I’m having a midlife crisis because I might have fallen in love with her.
Fuck. That’s not even true. I’m lying to myself.
There was no might have involved. I’ve fallen for her.
Whoa! That’s heavy stuff right there. “Nothing’s wrong.
” I lie again, this time to her. Fuck. The dam’s been broken, and the lies flood like water from my tongue.
This is ridiculous. Why am I acting like this is a bad thing? It’s Cricket. She’s incredible. I’d be lucky if she felt the same. I force myself to look her in the eyes, for her benefit and mine, when I say, “Tomorrow’s Sunday—”
“Technically, it’s already Sunday.” Her smile is softer, her lids even starting to fade with the early morning hour.
“Right.” I roll to my side to face her, and because I like looking at her in our bed, this bed I made for her. “I wanted to see if you and Jacob wanted to come over and we could spend some time together.”
There’s that night bloom of a gorgeous, flowering smile.
“I’d like that very much.” When her gaze drops to the floral sheet between us, she pauses but then looks back up as if she’s talked herself into something.
“Do you mind if I ask him if that’s what he’d like to do?
I promised we’d spend the day together. I don’t want him to think that I—”
“That’s fine. I understand.”
“Would it be here or . . .?”
“I was hoping I could show you, show you both, the ranch where I grew up.” The rush of nerves through my veins keeps my voice low, fearing rejection. It could happen at any point, so my hopes are held on standby just in case.
“Would we meet your family?”
“Do you want to?” I counter, not even considering how my family fits into the picture at this point in the relationship or with Jacob.
She scoots closer and snuggles against my side. With her eyes hidden from me, I close mine and kiss the top of her head. “I think it would be nice, but . . .”
My eyes flash open again. “But?” I ask, staring off the front of the porch where I can no longer make out the trees from the dark sky.
“It’s not the right time to share who Jacob is to them or you.”
I breathe easier, knowing we’re on the same page. “I agree. Doing things at a pace best for him is my focus.”
She kisses my chest, and whispers, “Thank you.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “I could get used to falling asleep with you.”
“We can’t fall asleep this time.” She pokes her head up. “I need to get back soon.”
“How soon?” I begin to shift from her hold and move lower on the bed. “And what can I do to convince you to stay a while longer?”
Her legs butterfly open for me, causing my cravings to kick in again. My dick is already hard before I dip under the sheet and slide my shoulders between her legs, ready to satisfy my hunger. I start with an appetizer of kisses before my tongue dives in for the main course.
“Stay over at the Riggins’s house most of the night?” my dad asks, looking up from a crossword puzzle book next to an empty plate on the table when I finally show my face after sleeping well past lunch.
Running my hands over my hair, I seem to think I have a chance in hell of taming its rough stage of bedhead. “Yeah. Got back around three.”
“What were you doing?”
Replying, Cricket Dover, isn’t the response to go with, but I’m having trouble thinking of another fast enough. He looks over at where I’ve stopped on the bottom step, and asks, “Working on a project over there?”
I step down and walk to the fridge. “Something like that.” Tugging the door open, I bend down to see what the selection is today. Orange juice, milk, prune juice . . . I glance back at my dad, water and beer. I grab the carton of OJ and set it on the counter. “It’s mine now.”
“What is?” He shifts in his chair, resting his arm across the back as he looks at me.
“The house. Since he left it to me, it’s mine.” I pour half a glass before cleaning my mess. “I didn’t know he’d do that, but I sort of feel my return makes more sense now.”
“How so?”
I take my glass and sit at the table. “I can’t live here forever, Dad. This is your home.”
Setting down the pencil in his hand on the bent-covered book, he says, “It’s yours as well, son.”
“I know, but you also know what I mean. The other house is . . . it’s an opportunity for me to have something here in the Pass that’s solely my own.” I drink some juice and watch for his reaction.
He pushes the book away and angles toward me, giving me his full attention. “It’s quite the gift, Griffin—”
“It is.”
“But your mom would say it’s a gift putting you on the road you’re meant to be on.”
She’s not wrong. A lot of things brought me back to my hometown, but there are even more keeping me here. “Might as well get some use out of it.”
“And keep you busy. A man needs to be busy either in mind, spirit, or physically. All three are best, but one or two keep you moving forward in life.” He stands to set his plate in the sink. “Sounds like you have a reason to stay.”
Jacob, Cricket, the house . . . all good reasons. “If I didn’t before, I do now.”