Page 45 of Under One Roof

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.

Griffinwantsme.

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.”

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