That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(68)

That small moment, the fact that he subconsciously kissed me, just tells me it’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time now.

I listen closely for any more arguing, and when I don’t hear anything, I sit up on the mattress and try to calm my hair’s wild waves. I rub my fingers under my eyes, clearing out any sleep, and stick a piece of gum in my mouth, not wanting to kill anybody with morning breath, Griffin in particular.

I unzip the tent, slip on my flip-flops, and find Griffin hovering over a pan on the firepit, stirring what looks like oatmeal, while Reid slices up apples on a cutting board at the picnic table.

“Good morning,” I murmur, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

Both Reid and Griffin turn toward me at the same time, but my gaze is only set on Griffin. His eyes travel up and down my body before landing on my face. A lazy grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and my stomach flips at the sight.

“Good morning,” he says softly. We stare at each other, both our smiles widening with each passing breath.

“Nothing happened, my ass,” Reid mutters from the picnic table.

I hide my chuckle and make my way over to the cooler, Griffin staring me down the entire time as I grab a water, get rid of my gum, and take a long swig, the cold liquid waking me up even more.

“Smells really good,” I say, needing to break the silence and the blatant stares Griffin and I are sharing.

Still stirring his pot, Griffin brings a coffee mug to his mouth and takes a sip, eyeing me from over the rim.

“Do you like oatmeal, Ren?” Reid asks as Rylee and Beck hop out of their tent, grinning. I think everyone knows what they were up to last night.

“I do like oatmeal. Mainly with brown sugar and raisins.”

“Both items we have,” Griffin says as Beck walks up to the pot and takes over stirring duties.

“Looks good, man. A few more minutes, and it should be good to go. Ingredients ready?”

“Yup,” Reid calls out. “I made a little oatmeal bar for people to pick and choose their toppings. I’ll go wake up Brig.”

“Good idea. I’m going to run to the bathroom before breakfast.” Griffin sets down his coffee and makes his way toward me. “Ren, do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“I do, actually. I’ll go with you.”

“How convenient,” Reid mumbles. Griffin gives Reid a murderous look over his shoulder as we stroll away.

Quietly, we walk together, at least a foot between us, the early-morning birdsong mixing in with the crunch of our feet on the dirt path. We round a bank of trees that shield our tents from view, and once we’re out of sight, Griffin moves in closer, his pinkie finger rubbing the back of my hand right before he captures it, fully entwining our fingers and pressing our palms together.

I can’t help it; I smile like a damn fool, so happy that this man is actually holding my hand.

When we make another turn through a bank of trees, Griffin stops abruptly and spins me off the path and right up against a tree, where he lifts my chin and gently brings his mouth to mine.

His lips are soft, malleable, with just the right amount of pressure to make my toes curl right in my sandals.

When he pulls away, he tilts his forehead against mine. “Fuck, I wanted to do that so bad the minute you came out of the tent.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, suddenly nervous.

“I didn’t want Reid gawking like an asshole, making catcalls and all that bullshit. He’s a dickhead, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay, so it’s not because you’re ashamed or anything of what happened last night?”

His brow shoots up in surprise. I have to admit I’m relieved at that reaction. “You’re joking, right? Ren, I would never be ashamed of what happened last night—it actually meant a lot to me. You’re . . .” He pauses and looks away, his head bent forward, something on the tip of his tongue. I don’t push him; I just wait until he’s ready. After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath and looks me in the eyes. “You’re the first woman I’ve even thought about kissing since I lost my wife. I would never have kissed you last night if I were ashamed.”

“I’m the first?”

He nods. “No one has caught my attention like you have; no one’s been able to break me down piece by piece, made it so impossible to stay away.”

“So does that mean . . . you might want to date me?”

He chuckles and plays with the hem of my tank top, tugging on it as he stares me in the eyes. “Is that what you want, Ren? To date me?”

I press my hand against his chest. “I mean, have I not made that obvious? I thought I was doing a damn good job of letting you know that’s what I wanted. I wanted so badly to make a move, but I was scared you weren’t feeling the same way about me. I’ve walked by the Lobster Landing way too many times for no reason, just hoping to catch a glimpse of you. I’ve even thought about calling in to the firehouse about a faulty smoke detector just to see you again.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t have to come up with a grand scheme to see me, Ren, because I wanted to see you just as much. Believe me, putting together four Adirondack chairs was not on my fun list, but hell if I could stay away.”

“So are you telling me we could have been dating a while ago?” I playfully grip his shirt in mock anger, making him laugh.