Page 62 of Small Town Frenzy
I type, holding my breath, and then hit send.I was thinking maybe we could knock another one of those to-dos off your list. What do you think?
I just know he’s already smirking. I can see it so clearly in my head, it’s like he’s here next to me. His message pops onto the screen:How fast can you get over to the Riggins’s house?
Me:Twenty minutes.
Him:If you’re speeding.
I remember joking with him about this very thing. So I text:A few speed limits will be broken, but all for a good cause.
Griffin:For a good cause indeed. We need to knock out this to-do list.
You’d think we hadn’t seen each other in weeks or even months. But even the hours from this morning have been too long without him in them. I send one more text before starting my SUV.I can’t wait to see you again.
CHAPTER 26
Cricket
I’m surprisingly calm.
Last week, my nerves were eating me alive, turning me into a person I don’t want to be. But Griffin relieved my anxiety when he stepped up for Jacob. Without question. Without hesitation. He didn’t even ask me to prove anything. He just believed me.
I could justify it any way I want to slice it, but the bottom line is, Griffin trusted me. He made me happy for my son to have his dad in his life, but maybe there’s also room for me in there somewhere. For the first time, I wonder if fairy tales really do exist?
Without another car in sight and no streetlights, I squint into the darkness ahead. I have no idea where this turnoff is, so I slow down to glance at my phone and the directions Griffin sent. According to him, the turnoff should be right about here. I stop, spotting an opening in the dilapidated fence falling on the right side, and pull in.
Maybe I should tell Savvy where I am, just in case Ipulled onto the wrong property and am about to be murdered. My headlights land on the back of Griffin’s tailgate, and I breathe easier. Thank God.
I park next to him. Before I can cut the engine, he’s coming around to my door with a big smile on his face. T-shirt just the way I like it, clinging to his biceps, jeans that he sure knows how to wear, and that hair that looks like he’s been running his fingers through for the past hour.
He opens my door and takes my hand. I’m swept into his arms and spun until my back is pressed to his truck. Our lips lock, and we share every breath. When he sets me on my feet, he holds the sides of my face like I’m precious. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“No, tell me.” I give him a dose of his own smirky medicine.
He grins, but it’s his eyes that have me wholly captivated. My knees weaken under his adoring gaze, and goose bumps erupt under his touch as he slides his hands down my neck and over my shoulders. When he takes my hand, I would literally follow this man anywhere. “I want to show you something.”
“Yeah?” I ask, clinging to his arm on a double step like a giddy schoolgirl. “What is it?”
“A surprise. I think you’ll like it. I hope you do.” I catch a hint of nervous excitement in his voice.
Although I find surprises hit or miss most of the time, I have no idea what I’m getting into, no expectation other than spending time with him. Anything else is the cherry on top. But I do think it’s fun to see this side of him, the one that cockiness has clearly never met.
His excitement is contagious, though, so I kiss his arm as we walk toward the back of the house. “The lights are on inside?”
“I spent some time out here today. Brought my dad and brother out to check the structure.” We walk onto the huge back porch that spans the length of the house. It could easily fit a porch swing and a whole host of rocking chairs on one side alone.
When I look at the other side, a daybed hangs from the ceiling. It looks too new, the wood freshly stained. Sheets with tiny floral detailing line the bed with a woven blanket and pillows freshly fluffed. “Did you do that?”
“Do you like it?”
I stand in astonishment, quickly taking in the effort again, and then look at him. “Did you make that for me?”
“Yeah.” He looks down at his feet when he scuffs the heel of his boot along the wooden porch. “It’s not fancy. Just some wood.”
“I love it, Griffin.” Still holding his arm, I lean my head against it, staring at the bed that he made for us, for me. When I glance down, I say, “You swept the porch.”
“It was a dusty mess. I can’t have you covered in dirt.”
I don’t know when I died, but this must be heaven. My heart is in his hands, and my love is budding for him. Who am I kidding? I felt the stages four years ago. Every day since we’ve reunited, it’s only grown stronger.
