Page 8

CHAPTER 8

GRIFFIN

C hristine rises from the couch and pauses to look at me. “Can we take a break before the next episode?”

“Sure. I think I want some more pizza anyway.” I push myself to my feet and follow her to the kitchen. I choose another slice of pizza from the box and then take a large bite

“How do you feel about me baking those cupcakes I owe you now?”

I nod as I chew. “Yes, please.”

She laughs. “Your expression reminded me of a five-year-old boy.”

“Cupcakes bring out the kid in everyone.” I tear a piece of crust free, shoving it between my lips.

“I never really thought about it before, but I think you’re right.”

Holding my finger up, I finish chewing and swallow. “It’s the cupcake liners and the thick frosting that do it for me.”

“Can you please preheat the oven to 350 degrees for me?” she asks.

“You bet.” I push a few buttons on the keypad and then turn to find Christine standing on her toes, reaching for something on the top shelf of the cabinet.

I move in behind her. “Let me help.” Grabbing the bowl, I set it on the counter in front of her.

“Thanks.” Pressing her lips together, she sends me a quick glance. “This kitchen is made for a giant.”

I grin. “Actually, it’s standard size. You’re just vertically challenged.”

“I can’t argue with you on that. I haven’t grown since I turned twelve. I thought I might eke out another inch or two but no such luck.”

I watch her move about the kitchen, rounding up the ingredients she’ll need. “Do you want some help?” I ask.

“No.” She seems taken aback by my suggestion. “I can’t have you making the cupcakes I owe you.”

“When I said ‘help,’ I was thinking more along the lines of licking the spoon.”

She laughs. “Well, that you can certainly do. Although, you probably shouldn’t since there’s raw eggs in the batter.”

“My gut is like a cast iron drum and impervious to salmonella. I’ll be fine.”

She measures the ingredients, adding them to the bowl. “Do you have an electric mixer?”

“I don’t think so.”

She snickers. “You’re such a guy.”

I search through a few cabinets without any luck. “Looks like I don’t have one. I’ll have to remedy that if you’re going to be making me cupcakes.”

She playfully narrows her eyes. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“You don’t? I could’ve sworn you did.”

She begins mixing everything with a large spoon. After a minute, her arm tires, and she takes a break.

“Let me take over,” I say. She slides the bowl across the granite toward me.

“We want to get all the lumps out,” she explains.

Grabbing hold of the spoon, I vigorously mix the batter until the consistency is smooth. “Who needs an electric mixer when you have me?”

She laughs. “You’re more useful than I thought.”

I nudge her arm with mine. “Hey, good one.” I like that she’s getting more comfortable with me. When I first learned she’d be moving in, I’d planned to keep my distance, yet here we are hanging out like old friends and even enjoying ourselves. Well, I can’t speak for her, but it seems like she is.

Christine puts the liners in the pan and adds the batter. When she’s finished, she sets the spoon in the bowl. “Have at it.”

I jump on it like it’s going to run away if I don’t. “Mmm,” I hum as I lick the batter. I hold the spoon in front of her face. “Want some?”

She shakes her head. “No, thanks.”

“Come on. Live a little.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine.” Leaning forward, her pink tongue slips from between her lips, swiping at the chocolate mixture. “Mmm. “ Her eyelids briefly closing, she sighs with satisfaction. “So good.”

She looks much too tempting, and I have to avert my gaze.

“Want some more?” Why does my voice sound so hoarse?

“Nope. It’s all yours.” Opening the oven, she slides the cupcake pan onto the rack. When she closes the door, she glances at the clock. “We have time to watch another episode while they cook.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We return to the living room and I start the show. After a few minutes, Christine offers her opinion on one of the guys. “He’s a total player. I bet he’s on the show to try and become famous.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He’s attractive and seems like he knows it.”

“He does come across as cocky,” I say.

She crosses her arms. “Yep. And his answers are way too rehearsed.”

“Maybe he’s just good at talking with women.”

“I supposed he could be, but I don’t think I’m wrong. I’m pretty good at recognizing a player when I see one.”

“How did you come by this special ability? Did you date some?”

“No. I just have naturally good instincts about people.”

“What did you think of me when we met?”

She snickers. “I plead the fifth.”

“Don’t be like that. Just blurt it out. I’m a big boy.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

How bad can it be? I don’t think I’ve been rude to her at all.

“Yeah.”

Her amused gaze flicks to me. “I don’t want to make you cry.”

I chuckle. “I promise that won’t happen.” I spent the first year after my mom’s passing shedding an endless amount of tears, but then they suddenly dried up. I haven’t shed a tear in the seven years since.

“Remember you asked.” She pauses, giving me a final chance to change my mind. “When we first met, I thought you didn’t have much of a personality.”

“Has your opinion changed?” I ask.

“Yeah. I figured out you were a good guy when we went to the tree farm. You helped me up when I fell.”

“Maybe you looked like a fish out of water, flopping around on the pavement and I was embarrassed to be with you.” She backfists my arm, and I laugh. “I’m just kidding.”

“Before you rudely interrupted, I was going to say how nice it was when you bought me hot chocolate.”

“I had no choice. You looked half frozen. I was concerned you’d have frostbite by the time we made it back here and then my dad would get after me for not taking better care of you.”

“I think you might be nicer than you let on,” she says.

“Shh. You’ll ruin my reputation for being a hardass.”

She pats the front of her hoodie. “Where’s my phone? I need to post about this on social media.”

My lips widen into a wince. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t. I have an account on one platform but it’s only for posting book stuff. Your nice guy status is safe with me.” She scoots forward to the edge of the cushion and then stands. “I better check on the cupcakes.”

“I’ll pause the show.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll be back in no time.” She scurries away, her sock-covered feet soundless on the hardwoods. With the open floor plan, I have a clear view to observe her as she removes the pan and sets it on the counter. She closes the door and shuts off the oven before hurrying back over. “Did I miss anything good?”

I don’t know. I was too busy watching you.

“Nothing important. You were quick.”

“I bet you could use someone with my speed on your team.”

I bark out a laugh. “I’ll tell our running backs they better watch out or they’ll be replaced by a tiny sprite.”

Her head snaps my way. “Hey! You don’t need to be so honest.”

I shrug. “What? You’re small but mighty.” My explanation brings a smile to her lips.

We watch the rest of the Blinded by Love episode. “What do you say we call it a night?” I ask.

“Okay. But I have a condition.”

“What?”

“Neither of us can watch the rest of the season without the other.”

She’s giving me a reason to spend more time with her?

“I agree.” I hold out my fist and she bumps hers into it. “So… are the cupcakes ready to be eaten?”

“I still need to frost them.” She rises and I quickly follow suit.

“I can help you with that.”

We move into the kitchen area and she taps her fingertip against the top of the cupcakes. “They’re still a little warm but I can frost them. They just might not look as nice as they would if I wait longer.”

“They’re going to look gross inside my stomach soon enough, so don’t worry about that.”

“Good point.” She grabs a knife and begins spreading a thick layer of the sweet, creamy frosting on the top of each cupcake.

“Stop teasing me, woman. Hand one over, dammit.”

Laughing, she pushes the plate with the finished product toward me. “Here you go, Mr. Impatient.”

“I’m sorry, but they smell amazing and I’m just a weak man who can’t resist homemade baked goods.” I peel the liner away and devour the entire cupcake in two bites. “So fucking good,” I tell her when I’m done.

“I’m glad you like them.”

“You need to try one.”

She shakes her head. “I’m all set.”

Peeling the paper away, I raise the cupcake in front of her mouth. “Take a bite.” She shakes her head. “Go ahead,” I encourage. “I want you to.” Leaning forward, she sinks her teeth into the dessert, biting off a chunk. She tips her head back and covers her lips to keep crumbs from spilling out. “Good, right?” I ask. She nods as she finishes chewing, her hand dropping from her face. “What do you think?”

“Not bad.”

“Not bad? Okay, that’s it. You don’t appreciate how good they are. No more cupcakes for you.”

She laughs. “That’s okay. I made them for you anyway. I’m gonna head up to my room now.”

Well, that’s disappointing news. I’ve been having such a nice night with her, I lost track of time, which almost never happens to me.

“Thanks for the pizza.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Goodnight, Griffin.” Her gaze lingers on my face for a moment, as if she’s as hesitant as I am to put an end to this night. But then she walks toward the staircase, and my gaze follows her like a needy puppy.

“Night, Christine. Don’t stay up too late reading.”

She pauses with a foot on the first step, grinning. “Oh, that’s definitely happening.” She runs up the rest of the flight, disappearing from view, and I hear her door closing.

Standing at the island, I inhale two more cupcakes before I cover the remainder with plastic wrap and place them in the pantry. What an unexpected turn of events this night brought about. When I arrived home from the away game, all I wanted was some solitude. After a couple of days spent with my teammates, the constant stimulation was wearing on me. I planned to eat something and crash in my own bed. But then I saw Christine dancing around the laundry room, and that plan flew out the window. Suddenly, being alone was the furthest thing from my mind, and I realized how nice it felt to have someone to come home to.