Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #1)(40)

“Get my number from him and shoot me a text later?”

“Perfect.”

“So,” Darlene said, looking pleased. “You and Griffin seem to be getting along well.”

An image of him naked beneath me flashed through my mind. “Um, yes. I think we are.”

“Wonderful. Wonderful.” She nodded happily. “I’m so tickled, because I’m afraid it’s going to be a little bit longer until you can move into his room at my house.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, you see, I’ve been using it as a storage and craft room, and it’s just full of things I can’t get into the basement or attic in my condition.” She looked pitifully at her legs. “So I was thinking that maybe you could stay with Griffin a couple more days. Give me a bit more time to get the room ready for guests.”

“I understand.” I smiled at her. “I’ll talk to Griffin, but I think a couple more days should be fine.”

“Really?” She looked delighted. “Well, that was even easier than I thought. You’re so much more pleasant to deal with than my son. Are you sure you can’t stay forever?”

I laughed politely. “I’m sure.”

“Because I looked up Cloverleigh Farms, and did you know they had a tornado touch down there a few years back? We’ve never had a tornado touch down here. They’re so rare in northern Michigan as it is—that’s some bad luck,” she said, her tone grave. “And you don’t want to move to a place that has a big black cloud hanging over it, do you?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her.

Her face fell. “Too bad. I’d hoped . . .” She sighed heavily. “But I suppose it’s a good sign that Griffin’s even showing an interest in someone. It’s been so long. I worry about him, you know? I don’t want him to end up alone.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the door to the garage. “I think he likes being alone.”

“I think it’s all an act,” she huffed.

“He told me just last night that he likes his freedom.”

Darlene looked at the ceiling. “You hear that one, Hank? Freedom!” she harrumphed. “I’m not trying to put him in jail, for goodness sake. I just want him to settle down and start a family. He’s thirty-two already! He’s going to run out of sap!”

I tried not to laugh. “I think he enjoys his independence, that’s all.”

“He’s too independent for his own good,” she scoffed, eyeing me critically. “I must say, I’m a little disappointed, Blair. I thought you’d be on my side.”

I held up my palms. “I’m not taking sides. I just know that Griffin has very definite opinions on this subject, and he’s never going to do anything just because someone else wants him to.”

“Oh, he’s a stubborn one, that’s for sure.” She softened her tone. “Don’t you think he’d make a good husband, though? And a great dad? He’s very loyal. And underneath all that bluster, he’s really sweet. He likes taking care of people. He’s very protective.”

“I agree.” I smiled, thinking of the way he’d taken care of me last night—actually since the moment he’d caught me on the sidewalk. “But I kind of like the bluster too, you know? There’s something endearing about it.”

“I suppose there is. His father was the same way, God rest his soul, and we were together for almost forty years.” She sighed. “So maybe there’s still hope.”





Griffin and I had a quick working lunch together, during which we discussed a few more ideas for the Labor Day weekend event—he liked my idea for a raffle and gave me several good suggestions for prizes—a budget for some new lobby furniture, and the name of a reporter at the local newspaper who was a good customer and might be willing to give us some press.

“Great,” I said, writing down the name and making a note to get an email address or phone number. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He crumpled up his sandwich wrapper and stuffed it into the empty brown deli bag. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” I looked up and saw his brow knitted in concern. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You seem a little distracted.”

“Sorry. A lot on my mind.”

He tipped up the last of his iced tea. “My mother say something to upset you?”

“No.” I shrugged and looked at my half-eaten sandwich. “Just the thing about the spare room not being ready. You’re sure it’s okay I crash with you until it is?”

“I’m completely, one hundred percent sure, and you know it. I want my bedtime story. And I have plans for you.”

I met his eyes as warmth crept into my face. “You do?”

“Yes. But they have to wait until after the game.”

I smiled, perking up again. “I’m looking forward to watching.”

“Good. But are you changing the subject because you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve hardly touched your lunch.”

Sighing, I set my pen down and sat back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Okay. I got another message from my mother this morning asking me to please call and let her know I’m not dead or kidnapped.”