15. Andi
Chapter 15
Andi
T he stomach flu flattened me for nearly two days, and I could barely lift my head, let alone do my job. Griffin hired me to take care of the kids, but he ended up taking care of me. In my foggy memories of those forty-eight hours, I know he carried me downstairs, helped get me changed, even braided my hair. Then he cuddled me and talked to me for a long time, all but confessing his feelings for me.
I figured he’d get sick too, after being my nursemaid, sitting next to me while I threw up repeatedly, and bringing me fluids and snacks every two hours like clockwork. The man was nothing if not always on time and efficient.
But of course, Griffin remained healthy. I doubt anything short of a nuclear war could take him out. Which is all the better because his firehouse is hosting their annual fundraiser, and as the captain, he’s expected to be there.
The two blocks leading up to the firehouse are lined with cars, and I truly didn’t expect it to be this big. I assumed it was a small picnic, but there are people everywhere. Peppy music pumps from towers on either side of the building, and I have to lean into Logan and Grace to hear them when they ask if they can go play in the bounce house.
“Be careful,” I shout as they take off. “You’re big kids, so watch out for the little ones!”
Logan waves at me that he heard, and Griffin gazes down at me with soft eyes.
“What?” I ask, lifting my chin.
He lifts one shoulder, curling his hand around my hip. “I like hearing you, seeing you, with them. They listen to you. Respect you.”
“I hope so.” I laugh nervously, not sure if he’s surprised or happy about that. “You raised them to be respectful.”
“But you and I both know what they were like before. With the others.”
I’m not sure what to make of the fact that he won’t say the word “nanny” in this context. It feels like he doesn’t want to say there were others. Or maybe that’s only my interpretation. My silly little jealous notion. That not only do I not want him to have girlfriends, but I don’t want there to be other nannies either.
Still, I try to downplay it. “I think they needed someone to get on their level. To show they’re understood.”
His eyes make a circuit of my face, settling on my mouth. “And to put me in my place.”
“That, too.” I smile, and his gaze lifts to mine, humor crinkling his eyes.
“Come on, troublemaker.” He guides me through the crowd with a hand pressed against my lower back. We pass a fire truck parked out front where people are taking pictures in and around it. There are tables set up with pamphlets about fire safety and free first aid kits. There’s even somebody handing out plastic firefighter helmets. The guy offers me one, and I turn him down with a laugh.
Inside, Griffin points out the office and steps that lead upstairs to the sleeping quarters.
I gesture to the fire pole. “How much action does that see?”
“A lot less than TV shows would make you believe.”
I pout. “You are a true dream killer, Captain Stone.”
Again, his attention lands on my lips, heavy and unblinking. I skim the tip of my tongue over them, and he inhales deeply enough to raise his shoulders, his grip tightening on me. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
Something comes over me. Demons, possibly. Delirium due to post-flu dehydration, more likely. But either way, I say, “Maybe you can show me sometime.”
I feel each of his five fingers expand, covering as much space as possible, with his thumb on my hip bone and his pinkie slipping into my back pocket. “I think we can work something out.”
My mouth goes dry as the implication settles over me. He wants me.
Griffin wants me .
And there’s no hiding or running away from it.
But I can’t even begin to accept or consider what it would mean to act on this because one of Griffin’s coworkers greets us. I’m introduced to him, along with a handful of other firefighters, though their names slip my mind almost instantly, too distracted by Griffin’s proprietary hand on my hip.
After we’ve done a lap around the firehouse, written our names down for a couple of items in the silent auction, and bought a handful of 50/50 tickets, we spot Ian and Taryn with her two kids. Maddie immediately runs off to play with Logan and Grace, while Jake plays on his cell phone as we wander over to the tables of food. One has six crockpots on it, all filled with chili for the tasting contest.
Griffin gestures for me to help myself, so I do. He watches as I consider each carefully, the corner of his mouth lifting as I put on a terrible French accent and critique the flavors of each. One’s too spicy, another too bland. But I like the second to last and cast my ballot for it then ask, “Why chili?”
“We all take turns cooking, and all of our meals are basically anything that can be put in a slow cooker.”
By the time we sit at one of the tables with Taryn and Ian, who’s on his second bowl of chili, I realize how easily I’ve slotted into this life. Into Griffin’s life.
Taryn includes me in the conversation about the renovations she wants to do at the B&B. She even asks my opinion on what I thought of my short stay there. Ian and Jake get into an intense discussion about sports, and I learn that Jake excels at soccer. He’s a freshman in high school and has been playing in a club league for a long time, but after this year, he’ll be moving up a level and is worried about making it. Ian and Griffin encourage him, both offering whatever they can do to help, money to buy new cleats or rides to and from practice. I notice Taryn’s cheeks going a little pink, her eyes a bit glassy, and she turns her head away, sniffling quietly, hiding her emotion from her brothers and son.
I don’t know what the situation is, but I surreptitiously slide a napkin across the table to her. When she notices, she offers me a ghost of a smile and uses it to dab at the corner of her eye and nose.
It’s sweet how this family is so close, and I wouldn’t mind becoming more integrated. I’m not sure what I would have to offer, but tissues are easy enough.
A little while later, a female firefighter named Marybeth uses a bullhorn to call everyone’s attention. It’s time for the ice bath competition. She points to a whiteboard and a list of a few firefighters written, including Griffin. She explains how each one will pair up with a civilian to see how long they can last in the ice bath. Winners will have their names added to the 2x4 affixed to the wall. From the cheers, I gather this is a long-standing tradition, with plenty of names on that piece of wood.
“An honor,” I tease, shouldering Griffin’s side, and he responds with a tug on my ponytail.
“Who are you paired up with?” Taryn asks, and Griffin tips his chin to his nephew.
Jake’s eyes widen. “No way. I did it last year.”
“And you can do it again. You afraid?”
“Yeah. Of my balls shriveling up.”
We all crack up, even Griffin, and it’s my new favorite song. The deep timbre sends goose bumps down my spine, and I lean into Griffin, who doesn’t hesitate to drape his arm around my shoulders.
Ian notes it with his keen, dark gaze. “Why don’t you do it, Andi?”
“No,” Griffin says immediately, but his brother shakes his head, eyes never leaving mine.
“Call it initiation into the Stone family.”
I consider him then Taryn and Jake, studying me with interest and a little humor, before turning to Griffin. I shrug. “I’m in.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. It’ll be fun.” I glance at the massive tub filled with ice water, shivering at the sight.
Jake snorts. “Fun isn’t the word I’d use, but okay.”
Griffin looks me over. “You can’t do it in that.”
That, meaning my cute flare denim with the star patch I sewed on myself to cover a hole because these jeans are my favorite, and I’ll wear them out until they disintegrate off me. He takes my hand. “I have something you can wear.”
He leads me to another room with lockers and opens the one with his last name on it to dig through a bag full of what I suppose are extra clothes, because he pulls out a T-shirt and shorts. Then he points me to a bathroom where I change out of my clothes and into his. I have to roll the elastic waistband so many times the shorts barely poke out from under the bottom hem of his shirt that hangs on me like a nightgown.
When I emerge, Griffin is waiting for me, stripped down to only a pair of shorts that leave little to the imagination. I swallow hard, trying not to stare at the expanse of tanned skin, the ripple of muscles, and curving tattoos. I’ve seen him without a shirt before, but still… I can’t stop staring. At the breadth of his shoulders, the tiger inked on his pec so big it encompasses the whole thing, and I’ve never been especially drawn to men’s nipples before, but I have the sudden urge to lick Griffin’s, trace them with my tongue, and then become very acquainted with the tiger. Farther down, a thin line of dark hair disappears under the waistband of his shorts. He’s all hard lines and raw power, and even has those indented muscles at his hips. I know he’s athletic and has to train hard for his job, but my god.
It’s not until he coughs that I blink back into reality. A flirtatious scowl slants his mouth, and my skin heats in some embarrassment but mostly desire. “Sorry.”
His eyebrow ticks up. “Are you?”
“Not one bit.”
He rakes his gaze in appraisal over me, like I did him, and even from where I stand a yard away, I can see how his pupils dilate. With a stiff shake of his head, he refocuses and places my clothes in his locker then takes my hand to lead me to the front of the garage, where we wait a minute for our turn. Marybeth writes the last team’s time on the board, one minute and seven seconds, and Griffin mumbles his disapproval. “That’s nothing.”
I laugh, a little too loudly. “A minute is a long time in zero-degree water.”
He pushes me closer to the tub so I can see the thermometer. “Fifty-three degrees.”
“Oh.” I laugh in absolute terror. “Fifty-three degrees.” Fifty-three sounds fine…for a fall day with a cute knit hat and scarf. Not water with ice and barely any clothes.
“You can handle it,” he tells me with a confidence I don’t feel.
Marybeth calls us over and asks my name so she can introduce me and Griffin. Shouts and applause go up because Captain Stone is evidently very popular with his coworkers.
“You ready?” he asks with a low voice, and I shake my head but place my hand in his and step into the tub with him, gasping at the cold.
Marybeth counts down from three, and Griffin taps on his watch, starting a timer before sitting down in the water. I follow and inhale so fast and hard that my lungs burn.
“You’re good,” he says from behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pulling my back against his chest. He presses his cheek to my ear, his mouth by my temple. “You’re good, Andi.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” I grip his forearms, my nails digging into them. I don’t mean to, but my body is in fight mode, and I can’t relax my fingers from their contracted position.
“Breathe. Come on, breathe.” He inhales and exhales slowly, his chest rising and falling, his warm breath rushing past my mouth. “Try to relax into it.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Do it with me.” He inhales and exhales purposefully, so I join him. “Good girl. Keep it up.”
The crowd around us is a blur of noise and color, cheering and shouting about our time. But all I can concentrate on is Griffin’s voice, how he envelops me with his arms. “Attagirl. You’re doing so good.”
“Griffin,” I groan, and he tilts his face so his mouth is right against my ear.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I am never doing this again.”
He laughs. Actually laughs!
I’m not sure how because my organs are shutting down, but he seems to be enjoying himself.
“I’m going to kill you,” I threaten weakly, and I feel more than hear his hum.
“Yeah? Think you already did, seeing you in my shirt and shorts. Reminded me of the day we met.”
I don’t know how he’s talking, yet I want him to keep going. It’s the only thing keeping me alive at this point.
“You had on tiny little shorts and a white shirt. No bra. You were wet from the rain, and all I could see were your nipples, those hard little peaks. I dream of them at night. Touching them. Sucking on them.”
I gasp my next breath, and next to us, Marybeth’s voice rings out from the bullhorn. “One minute!”
“Are you thinking about that now?” Griffin asks, tightening his arms around me. “Me sucking on your tits. Making them red and shiny?”
“Oh shit,” I mutter, and he huffs in my ear.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I nod. I’m delirious. From him. From the cold. From the blood loss in my brain.
“Can you do ten more seconds?” he asks, and I nod again.
I’d agree to anything he wanted at this point.
“You’re so good,” he praises. “So fucking perfect.” He lifts his wrist to show me his military watch, counting down in my ear. “Nine… Eight…”
Each second is a battle, the cold biting into my skin, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. But there’s a fire burning inside me, a heat that has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the man holding me.
“Three… Two… One.” When Griffin releases his arms from around me, I shoot up, wrapping myself around him like a koala as soon as he stands. The crowd laughs, but I can’t bring myself to care, not when I’m shivering so hard, it feels like my teeth might shatter.
As Marybeth announces that our time is one minute and twenty-four seconds, Griffin steps out of the tub easily, as if I’m not clinging to him. Someone throws him a towel, and he wraps it around me, rubbing his hands up and down my back, creating friction and warmth. I bury my face in his neck, my lips brushing against his cool skin.
Eventually, my shivering subsides enough for me to release my death grip on him, and he wraps a towel around his own waist, then turns back to me, concern etched on his face. “You okay?”
I nod, managing a small smile. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You did so good, sweetheart.”
I melt faster than the loose pieces of ice on the floor and lean into his side. He wraps his arm around me just as the twins run up excitedly.
“Aunt Taryn said we can sleep over tonight,” Grace tells us.
“And Jake said I could play GTA with him,” Logan adds.
Griffin and I both swing our gazes to Taryn, who’s standing with Jake and Maddie, smirking.
She knows. About Griffin and me.
And she’s gifting us a night alone. Without the kids.
Griffin clears his throat then turns back to the twins. “Okay. Be good.” He touches each of their heads. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” they both chirp and then, to my utter delight, throw themselves at me for hugs.
I squeeze each of them. “See you tomorrow.”
They run off back to Taryn, who waves at us. Ian takes his leave, too, with a knowing salute in our direction.
Then it’s just Griffin and me and a whole night ahead of us.
“You ready to get out of here?” he asks, and I am breathless with anticipation, barely able to get the one syllable out.
“Yes.”