Drive Me Wild Page 8

  “So,” Darlene said brightly, patting my leg. “Tell me how you and Griffin met. Have you known each other long?”

  “We met just last night, actually. I was driving down Main Street and blew a tire.”

  “My goodness! Were you hurt?”

  “I was fine, just a bit shaken up. When I got out of the car, Griffin and a couple friends were standing there. And then . . .” I wrinkled my nose. “I fainted.”

  Darlene gasped, steeling her fingers over her heart. “You fainted!”

  “Yes, but Griffin caught me before I hit the ground.”

  “The Lord at work!” she exclaimed, looking toward the ceiling.

  I laughed. “He towed my car back to his garage, and then he was nice enough to let me stay over, since I had nowhere to go.”

  “You stayed the whole night at his apartment?” Darlene was clearly shocked at the news.

  “Yes. But only because he felt sorry for me. You see, I’m sort of between living situations right now, and I need to save every penny I have—which isn’t very many, to be honest—in order to get on my feet somewhere new. Griffin caught me trying to sleep in my car and offered his couch. But he was a complete gentleman, I assure you.”

  “Of course he was.” She nodded with satisfaction. “He was raised right. Of course, there was a lot of nonsense when he was growing up. My stars, that boy could find trouble with his eyes closed! His father and I were beside ourselves for years wondering if he was ever going to straighten himself out.”

  The screen door creaked open and slammed shut again, startling us both.

  “Anyway,” Darlene said, waving a hand in front of her face. “I’m just so pleased to see him out and about with a nice young lady such as yourself.”

  “Oh, well, I wouldn’t say we’re out and about together, exactly. He’s just helping me out while I’m here. I’ll be gone soon.”

  “And where is it you’re headed, dear?”

  “That’s a bit up in the air at the moment, but when I left Tennessee yesterday morning, I was heading for a place called Cloverleigh Farms. I was there once for a wedding years ago and fell in love with it.”

  “Oh yes, I know it. That’s a beautiful place.” She hesitated. “Of course, the nearby town is much less charming than Bellamy Creek.”

  “Is it?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And quite small. They only have one harbor, and we have two.”

  I laughed. “Seeing as I don’t have a boat at the moment, it’s probably okay. What I’d like to do is open up a bakery once I’m on my feet.”

  “Ready to go, Blair?” Griffin appeared at the doorway.

  “So soon?” Darlene sounded dismayed. “We’re just getting to know each other. Did you know Blair wants to open a bakery?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was just thinking she could open one up here in town. Or a pastry shop! We haven’t had good pie in this town since Betty Frankel passed, God rest her soul.” She crossed herself.

  “She’s not staying here.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Darlene said irritably.

  “Actually, Griffin’s right,” I said. “I’m only here for a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks?” His mother looked hopeful again.

  “Yes. It’s going to take Griffin some time to get the parts he needs to fix my car, and in the meantime I’m going to work at the desk and help out with a new marketing strategy at the garage.”

  “Was there an old marketing strategy?” joked Cheyenne, coming into the room and dropping onto a leather recliner.

  I smiled. “It’s centered around an event we’re going to plan for Labor Day weekend. Sort of an open house to reintroduce the business to the town. But first, we’re going to renovate the lobby a bit.”

  Cheyenne’s jaw fell open. “You convinced him to renovate the lobby? Wow, he really did fall under your spell.”

  “It was Blair that fell,” Darlene said. “Did you know that? Fainted dead away at the mere sight of him, and he caught her.”

  “Really?” Cheyenne looked back and forth from me to Griffin, whose mouth was set in a grim line.

  “No,” he said, annoyed. “She was dehydrated.”

  “I heard she was wearing a wedding dress.” Darlene looked smug as she pointed a finger at her son. “Now you tell me that isn’t divine intervention.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ma. It wasn’t divine intervention, it was a flat tire.”

  Darlene quirked a brow. “You say tomato, I say tomahto.”

  “Anyway,” I went on, rising from the couch, “I’m really grateful for the short-term work at the garage. I feel very lucky.”

  “Well, I’m tickled pink that Griffin has someone to help out while I’m laid up.” Darlene fell back on the couch and made a big show of lifting both legs onto the cushions, even though she’d seemed fine a moment before. “You never know how long I’ll be out.”

  “Mom, you just said earlier the doctor said you could go back to work sometime next week,” Cheyenne said.

  “You hush, Cheyenne Dempsey. That’s not at all what the doctor said.”

  “I was in the room, Mom.”

  “You must have misheard, darling.” Darlene shot her daughter an evil look. “So thank the Lord for sending sweet, lovely Blair to fill in for me as long as we need her.”

  Griffin cleared his throat. “So, Mom. Blair needs somewhere to stay while she’s in town. Know anyone who’s renting a room?”

  “I thought she was staying at your place.”

  “That was an emergency situation.”

  “Well, you can’t just kick her out, Griffin. What’s the matter with you?”

  Griffin breathed heavily through his nose. “No one’s kicking anyone anywhere, Mom. Now do you know someone renting a room or not?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. I need to think about it.” She smiled indulgently at him. “You’re always such a bear when you’re hungry. How about some nice chicken salad?”

  “No, thank you.” Griffin came over and grabbed me by the forearm. “Let’s go, Blair.”

  “Nice meeting you, Darlene. Cheyenne,” I called over my shoulder as Griffin dragged me toward the front door. His legs were much longer than mine, and I stumbled once or twice.

  “You too!” Cheyenne shouted. “And congrats again on tying the knot!”

  Griffin shook his head as he pulled me onto the porch, the screen door slamming shut behind us. He held my arm as we went down the steps, then he stopped short. “Oh my God.”

  I looked in the direction of his gaze and saw that someone—probably Cheyenne—had tied several aluminum cans to the bumper of Griffin’s truck, and a sign that said JUST MARRIED was stuck in the rear window. Mariah and her damp little friends stood giggling next to the car, and when they saw us, they came running.

  “Congratulations!” they shouted, showering us with handfuls of rice. “Yay! You got married!”

  “We didn’t get married,” Griffin barked at them.

  Mariah looked crestfallen. “But Miss Cheyenne said—”

  “Miss Cheyenne lies.”

  Laughing, I stumbled forward through the shower of rice as he started marching across the lawn. His grip on me was tight but not painful, and I sort of liked how worked up he was. He was cute when he smiled, but he was smoking hot when he was mad, and the stubborn clenched jaw was doing things to me.

  “Sorry, girls,” I said with a smile. “It’s just a joke. We aren’t really married.”

  The three girls looked disappointed. “Nothing fun ever happens around here,” one of them complained. But a minute later, they were tossing the rice at each other, shrieking and racing back toward the sprinkler.

  “I’m going to throttle my sister,” Griffin grumbled, pulling his keys from his pocket.

  “Come on, she’s funny.”

  “She’s a pain in the ass.” He let go of me when we reached the truck. “Grab the sign please. I’ll untie the cans.”

  I opened the slightly sma
ller back door on the passenger side and peeked at the black and white kitten in a travel carrier. “Hi there, cutie. Are you excited about your new home?” Climbing onto the seat, I pulled the sheet of paper from the window where it had been taped. “Don’t mind your new daddy. He’s grumpy right now, but I promise, he’s a nice guy.”

  “Can I have that, please?” Griffin asked from behind me.

  I backed out of the truck, embarrassed that I’d probably just flashed him my underwear, which was not particularly sexy. “Here you go.”

  He took off with the cans and sign, marching onto the porch and dumping them right inside the screen door. I got into the truck’s front seat and waited for him, listening to the kitten meow in the back. “It’s okay, kitty,” I said, wondering if it was a boy or girl and if it had a name.

  Griffin got behind the wheel and slammed his door shut. “Told you my family is obnoxious.”

  “They do like giving you a hard time, don’t they?”

  “Yeah.” He turned on the engine but left the truck in park. “Somehow it was easier to take when my dad was alive. Now it always feels like two against one.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “A little over two years.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “That’s life, I guess. I just wish he could have lived long enough to retire. Enjoy his life more. He worked so hard every day of his life. For what?”

  I stared at him. Did he really not know? “For this, Griffin.” I gestured to his house, the neighborhood, toward him. “For his family. For security. For a business he was proud of and could pass on to his son.”

  “I guess.”

  I thought of my own father and how he did business. “I bet your dad was honest.”

  “Always.”

  “And paid his employees fairly.”

  “He did.”

  “And never completed a job he didn’t stand behind. Never scammed anyone. Never did things the easy or cheap way when his reputation was on the line. And I bet he paid his taxes, even if he didn’t like it.”

  “He definitely did not like it. But you’re right, he never cheated.”

  “And do you think if he were here right now, he’d tell you he had regrets?”

  “No,” he said grudgingly.

  “Because he was a good man. A good father. I bet your mother would say he was a good husband too. That’s worth a lot.”

  Griffin continued to stare out the windshield.

  “I mean, I think about my dad, and I feel . . . ashamed. It doesn’t mean I don’t love him—he’s still my dad. But I’m not proud of the things he did. He cared more about money than what was right,” I said, getting all worked up. “I never want to be that person.”

  He looked at me. “You’re not, Blair.”

  “And as for my mother, she told me I was being a complete imbecile when I left. She said I was delusional and naive and wouldn’t last a month on my own.”

  “She’s wrong.”

  “What if she isn’t?” I fretted, knitting my fingers together, feeling my heart begin to race. “What if she knows more because she’s older and wiser and raised me to be this one specific way in a specific type of environment where everything is handed to me, and all these setbacks I’m facing are just the tip of the massive iceberg lurking beneath the surface and I’m doomed to fail?”

  “Hey.” He reached over and took one of my hands. “She’s wrong, okay? Stop talking and take a breath.”

  Closing my eyes, I inhaled and exhaled slowly a couple times. When I looked at him again, I felt silly. “Thanks. Sorry for the panic attack—that conversation was supposed to be about you.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t really want to talk about myself anyway.” He squeezed my hand. “Now listen. I only just met you last night, but I can already tell you are not the kind of person to turn around and run scared when you face a problem. Maybe you’re a little bit, uh . . .”

  “Careful,” I warned.

  “ . . . inexperienced in the real world,” he finished, in what I considered a triumph, “but you’ll learn fast. You’re smart, you’re determined, and you can talk to anyone—in two languages, no less.”

  “Three, actually.”

  “Three?”

  “I speak Latin too.”

  “Latin?”

  “It’s the universal language of western civilization,” I said defensively. “Although not terribly useful in modern life, I admit.”

  Griffin shook his head and gave me a disarming smile. “You’re going to be okay, Blair.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yes.” He looked down at the inside of my forearm, which bore a couple faint brown scars. “Jesus Christ. What happened?”

  “Oven rack burns. Professional hazard.”

  “Oh.” He brushed his fingertips across them, which I thought was sweet, then let go of my hand. “You good now? You’re not going to faint or anything?”

  I laughed. “No. I’m good.”

  “Okay, then let’s take this cat home and go get some food.”

  “But what about finding a place for me to stay? I feel like an orphan right now. And I’m not as cute as a rescue cat.”

  “Food first, or I won’t even be able to think.” He shook his head, and pulled away from the curb. “My mom’s right about one thing—I get hangry as fuck.”

  After we’d been on the road for a few minutes, I looked over at him. “So what did your sister mean about breaking your number one rule for me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh, come on.” I reached over and poked his shoulder. “What’s your number one rule?”

  He exhaled. “No sleepovers. I don’t bring women back to my apartment.”

  “Ah.”

  “Not that last night was a sleepover in that way,” he said quickly. “So I didn’t really break the rule.”

  “Definitely not,” I said.

  But I turned my face toward the window and smiled.

  Seven

  Griffin

  I carried the kitten’s crate up the stairs, and Blair followed behind, toting the bags Cheyenne had given me with food and supplies.

  “My sister said to keep her confined in one room to start, so I guess I’ll put her in the bedroom,” I said.

  Blair set the bags on the kitchen counter. “How cute. You can cuddle with her at night.”

  I glared at her over my shoulder.

  “Let me guess—mechanics don’t cuddle,” she said, trailing me into my room.

  “This one doesn’t.” I set the crate down in one corner and opened it up, but the kitten didn’t come out.

  “So is it a boy or a girl?” Blair asked.

  “Girl. Her name is Bisou.”

  “Bisou?” She laughed and wandered over to where I stood. “That’s adorable.”

  “It is?”

  She turned to face me. “Yes, it’s French. It means kiss.”

  Again, I found myself staring at her lips. Dying to taste them. Should I just fucking do it?

  In the end, she saved me by dropping down and patting the floor, trying to coax the cat out of hiding. “Viens ici, ma petite Bisou,” she crooned. “Ma choupinette. N’aie pas peur.”

  Suddenly I thought of those old scenes in the Addams Family when Gomez would lose his mind when Morticia spoke French. If I never got it watching reruns as a kid, I got it now. It didn’t even matter I had no clue what she was saying. Just the words on her lips were sexy.

  Blair sighed and sat back on her heels, looking up at me, her lips in a pout. “She won’t come out.”

  Christ, she was adorable. And why was it so hot in here? “Maybe she just needs to get acclimated. Ready to go? I could use a cold beer.”

  “Sure.” She took the hand I offered and rose to her feet. “Thanks. Have I told you yet how nice your manners are?”

  “I don’t think so.” I dropped her hand before I started kissing my way up her arm, Gomez-style.

  “Wel
l, they are. I feel like all the guys I’ve met in the last few years are Neanderthals with expensive shoes.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I just attract the jerks who think having money is the same thing as having class.”

  “I don’t have much of either.”

  Blair laughed. “Doesn’t matter. I’d rather be with you than any one of them tonight. Hey, listen. Do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick to freshen up before we leave?”

  “No, go ahead. I’ll wait outside.” As I left the room, I glanced at the ball gown hanging on the back of my closet door.

  “Want me to put my wedding dress back on?” she teased. “Seems like it was a big hit around here.”

  I looked back at her menacingly. “Don’t you dare.”

  “I love it when you go all mean boss on me.” Her grin was full of mischief, daring me to come at her and throw her down on that bed like I wanted to.

  I left the room before I said—or did—something I’d regret.

  Outside, I called my mother.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me. Did you think of anyone who might have a spare room to rent?”

  “Not yet. But I’m thinking very hard. In the meantime, though, I think she should probably just stay with you a little longer.”

  “Stop trying to play matchmaker, Mom. It never works.”

  “Because you’re so stubborn,” she chided. “You don’t even try with the women I introduce you to, and I’ve set you up with some perfectly lovely girls!”

  “Name one.”

  “What about that nurse from Urgent Care? She was darling.”

  “She spent the entire dinner crying over her ex-husband. No, thanks.”

  “What about the new bank teller at the credit union? She was definitely single.”

  “She didn’t like baseball. That was DOA.”

  “Well, how about the lawyer I met at the gardening center? She seemed outdoorsy.”

  “She likes women, Mom. Which she said she told you right away when you mentioned setting her up with your son.”

  “Well, sometimes people are just confused, or in denial.”

  “In this case, that person is definitely you.”