Page 48 of Mess With Me

I want to ask him about how his parents met. How his grandfather met his grandmother. Why a flash of sadness passes over the old man’s face when he talks about his family.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Griff asks. He’s just this side of rude.

I frown. “Chester came to bring us eggs. Isn’t that nice?”

Chester’s unbothered. “Saw you bustin’ your ugly butt out on the road this morning—you never told me you were comin’ home like you usually do, let alone bringin’ a lady. I woulda shot you a bird. You bring my muffins?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Ches. We left the city kind of quick.”

I guess that’s their relationship—rude and sweet all at the same time.

“That’s all right.” Chester waves a hand. “Betsey’ll bring some up soon enough. I’ve almost perfected my own blueberry recipe anyway.” He sighs. “Too bad I donated today’s eggs to the raccoons, though.”

Griff follows his gaze to the mess of broken eggs at the tree line.

“What happened, anyway?” Griffin asks.

“We were just surprised to see each other, that’s all,” I say, sparing Chester the need to explain how when he came out and saw me stretched out on one of the Adirondacks on the porch, he’d jumped so high he’d upended his whole hatful of eggs. I thought I’d given the poor man a heart attack the way he’d clutched his chest right after.

“But now we’re real good friends.” Chester winks. “She said we can get married here in your backyard.”

I laugh, explaining to a bewildered Griffin how after scaring the poor man half to death, I’d run out and dropped to my knees to see if any of the eggs were salvageable. He’d looked down at me and quipped, “Yes, I do.”

“He made a joke about a shotgun wedding, which led to me telling him I’d never seen a shotgun, and here we are,” I say.

“I was gone under an hour.” Griff says.

“Your whole life can change in under an hour,” I say.

But my mind immediately goes to yesterday. The time between me coming home and Griffin meeting me in that alley couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes.

Griffin shifts almost imperceptibly so he’s slightly closer to me, his body angled just a hair more toward mine, like he’s thinking the same thing. It’s so subtle no one else would have noticed it—Chester certainly doesn’t as he goes off about how one of his chickens “ain’t layin’ right.” But the gesture sends warmth flooding through me.

“You okay?” Griff asks, the words so quiet under his breath Chester doesn’t even stop talking.

The way he’s looking at me, I get the sense that if I said no, he’d pick me up and carry me inside, then hop on his bike and head to New York to potentially murder a very dangerous man. For me.

“I’m more than all right,” I promise.

He fixes me with that intense gaze a moment longer before turning his attention back to Chester, staying within an inch of me.

I should find his protectiveness oppressive. I should find a lot about this man oppressive. I hated when my exes took over or got jealous or tried to tell me what to do.

But this man can do all of those things. Because for Griffin, it’s not about his feelings. It’s all about keeping me safe, and almost more importantly, making mefeelsafe.

After only a few days of knowing him, I’m fairly convinced that the man who appears to be the most ornery man on the planet might in fact be one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met.

Well, except maybe for Chester.

It’s only after Chester says, “Did y’all lovebirds hear a damn thing I said?” that I realize Griffin’s hand is at my back and I’m leaning in against his chest.

How did that happen?

I step back, my cheeks burning.

“Well, thanks for coming by, I guess,” Griff says to Chester. To me he says, “Come on, we need to go get some food.”

Chester lights up. “You goin’ for waffles? If y’are, tell Betsey I’m almost out of muffins.”

---