Page 93 of Barefoot Dreams
“I’m sure.” His hot breath tickles the wet skin of my neck, and I shiver.
“Okay.” My voice is breathless once again. It seems to be the new norm for me when I’m around Griffin. “It’s Ruth, Lady Anne, and Gisabelle that need the watering. Just half a cup each.”
Griffin shakes his head, amused. “Why am I not surprised you named your plants. Wait, doesn’t Jacob do that too?”
“Yep, he stole that idea from me.”
“Again, not surprised.” Griffin chuckles and leaves through the back door to my apartment above.
Just like that, without another word, he simply went to do what I needed. My head was already spinning from the turn of events but now it feels like it’s in one of those racing cars. Taking sharp turns that threaten your life yet feel so euphoric you can’t stop.
And I don’t want it to stop.
Something new weaves through my chest when I see him walking away. Something close to hopeless hope and promises of the future. Slow, steady future.
“Ready to go?” Griff asks as I turn off the last light and he stuffs the broom back into the cleaning supplies closet.
“More than.” I smile. “Do you want to go out for an early dinner or back to my place? We can get something to go?”
“The second option please. All day, any day.” He smiles sheepishly. “I’d invite you to my place, but Lily’s attic has moved into my space, so there’s virtuallyno spacethere anymore.”
I frown. “What Lily? My Lily?” I point to my chest, confused.
Griff chuckles. “The one and only.”
“Wait, what do you mean her attic moved in?”
“Apparently, her and the girls”—he air quotes—“needed a space for a spiritual meeting the other day. Something about Jupiter’s houses and Jenny’s new gifts,” he waves around and places a hand on the small of my back, leading me out the door. “Anyway, she came by the station asking to help her move some boxes to her new shed.”
“What shed?” I turn my head toward him, still frowning. “My parents don’t have a new shed.”
“Exactly.” He gives me a look, and I know exactly what that means.
“Please tell me dad didn’t try and build one himself.”
“Oh, he most definitely did, but we stopped it before anything other than the materials got hurt.”
I groan.
My dad is the best father in the whole world. He would garden with me, teach Callum how to shoot a paint gun, always patient and kind. He’s brilliant when it comes to math and science and foreign languages. I was always told I took after him in that regard, but give him a hammer and a nail and he’ll make the house fall apart.
Doesn’t stop him from trying it though. Every single time.
Griffin chuckles, wrapping a hand around my waist and kisses the side of my head. “Don’t worry. Luke and I will go out there tomorrow morning to start building it, but in the meantime the attic needed to be free to use. So I took most of the boxes to my place.”
I close my eyes real hard. Someone, please tell me Mom didn’t give himthoseboxes.
“I bet it’s just a bunch of old junk.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t call it that.” There is something in his voice. Something that has my heart picking up its pace.
We just enter my apartment when I say, “Can I, um, see those boxes?”
“Why?”
“Oh, no reason. Just want to see what junk Mom collected.”
“There’s no junk, I checked.” Mischief! That’s what I heard in his voice earlier and it’s there again.
