I’m twenty-four weeks along, and my body has finally figured out that food isn’t the enemy. Griffin is still on his sourdough journey, so I’m being well-fed and well-fucked. Still, I can’t seem to get enough. My appetite—for food and other things—is downright insatiable. It’s becoming a problem.
Griffin catches sight of me and changes course. He pulls back on the reins on the opposite side of the fence, and Phoenix comes to a stop with a quiet whinny. He tugs off one glove and taps his bottom lip with his index finger. “Give me a kiss.”
I step onto the bottom rung and tip my head up. His knuckles brush the underside of my jaw as his lips press to mine.
“How’s my little tater tot?”
I rub my hand over the small bump that suddenly appeared this morning. “She’s good. I finally know what Olivia meant about the hiccups. It’s the cutest thing.”
“I think you meanhe,” Griffin says.
“Nope. It’s definitely a girl.”
He palms my belly through the fence. “We’ll see about that.”
Callie and Olivia are both having girls, but I decided I don’t want to know until after the baby is born. At ourtwenty-week ultrasound, I told Griffin I’d be fine if he wanted to find out, but he declined in the name of solidarity.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
I smirk. “I don’t know, I was kind of enjoying the view.”
He dismounts from Phoenix, keeping a hold of the reins. “Mm. Not now, baby girl. You can have all of this later.”
I once told Jess I’d never date a cowboy—like there was some cautionary tale I was trying to avoid. I walked right into it with Tyler, no hesitation. Now I’ve got Griffin galloping toward me, and I could choose to dodge or let him carry me off into the sunset.
I’ve always loved the Kentucky sunset.
Griffin takes Phoenix into the stables. Much to my dismay, he returns fully clothed, keys in one hand and a single sunflower in the other. He hands me the latter. “Come on. I’ll drive.”
I bring the flower to my nose and inhale. “You never told me where we’re going.”
“And I’m not going to.”
Griffin pulls up outside of a beautiful modern ranch-style house at the top of a hill surrounded by trees. White siding, black doors, natural wood accents. It’s stunning.
He takes my hand, guiding me up the stone walkway and through the front door. The interior is just as beautiful, with vaulted ceilings and wood beams, crisp white walls, and natural elements. It’s not stuffy and pretentious, as I’ve come to expect from the homes of my wealthy clients. It’s warm and inviting, not unlike the man who owns it.
He takes me through the main living space down a longcorridor, stopping outside of a nondescript interior door. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
With a dramatic sigh, I cover my eyes with my hands. I feel his warmth at my back as he gently grips my shoulders and walks me into the room. A few paces in, we stop, and his warmth disappears.
“Ok. Open.”
I slowly open my eyes, adjusting to the light streaming in through the large picture window at the far side of the room. The space is huge, but that’s all I can really say about it. It’s a blank slate. White walls, hardwood flooring, and what looks to be a closet.
“What am I looking at?” I ask.
For the first time since I met him, he seems nervous—not at all like the self-possessed and oftentimes brazen man I’ve come to expect. With his hands in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels. “A nursery? Maybe.” His throat bobs. “Hopefully.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “Griff.”
“Just hear me out, okay? Your house is great, but I have all this space, and my family is close by to help out if we need them. You love animals, riding, and staring up at the clouds. You can’t do that in town. We could raise him to ride, and he could play with his cousins every day. We could be happy here. Together. As a family.”
It all sounds… wonderful. Almost too good to be true. Can I trust him? Absolutely. Can I trust my instincts that moving in with him would be the right thing for us? That, I don’t know. I don’t have the best track record with men. I trusted Tyler, and look how that turned out.
