Page 61 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

I finally manage to get my trousers pulled up and fastened, all while keeping both eyes on him as he ambles out of the room, his walking stick tapping against the wood floor. Then I straighten my shirt and tie and smooth down my hair, which is wild after Harrison had his hands all through it.

I glance across at Harrison, who is still leaning back against the workbench, his trousers still undone, shirt untucked, and sweater shoved halfway up his torso.

“Shouldn’t we…?” I point to the ceiling, to where his grandfather is heading up to his flat to apparently make us tea.

“Oh, please.” He rolls his eyes. “Grumps has got to get up the stairs yet. We’ve probably got time to catch the director’s cut of Titanic.”

We stare at each other for a few minutes and then burst out laughing. It’s a joy to see Harrison so unburdened, his cornflower-blue eyes filled with warmth and amusement, rather than tired and filled with worry as they’ve been since the dreams started.

“Fuck.” I rub my face as the laughter subsides.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he says with a smile, reaching out and grabbing my tie, once again pulling me closer to him. “Believe it or not, that was not how I was intending to introduce you to my grandfather.”

He leans in and kisses me softly.

I feel like I’m drowning in him. I think I’m in real trouble here. I’ve never felt this way about any man before. He’s crawled into all the empty spaces in my heart and just filled them up without even trying. In unguarded moments such as this, when he loses that prickly veneer, he allows me to see who he really is and it’s everything.

“Come on.” I press one last kiss to those pouty lips and stroke his smooth jawline. “There will be time for us later.”

Those pretty eyes of his search my face for a moment longer, then he nods. Tucking his shirt back into his trousers, he zips them up and fastens his belt before tugging his sweater down and smoothing his hands over it.

He picks up the rose from the shelf where he laid it carefully, brings it to his face, and inhales softly, and his cheeks flush with pleasure. Given his self-confessed lack of experience with men, I’m guessing he’s never had spontaneous gifts from a lover. I silently resolve to spoil him whenever I can.

He makes me want to give him the world. Okay, so it’s currently a bit of a fucked-up world swarming with supernatural weirdness, but I still want to wrap it up in a bow and present it to him.

He takes my hand and leads me through the back room to the staircase leading up to his flat, and my gaze lands on his tempting arse, so lovingly cradled by his trousers.

He glances over his shoulder to me, flushing when he realises where my eyes are fixed. “I mentioned to Grumps about the supernatural cases you’ve been getting recently.”

“You did?”

“Yes. He’s a sixth-generation witch, so I thought he might have some insight,” he replies as we step through the doorway into his flat and hear the kettle boiling in the kitchen. “Take a seat. I’ll go help Grumps and put my rose in some water.”

He looks at it again, a small smile playing on his lips.

Ordinarily, I’d offer to help, but I wonder if Harrison needs a moment alone with his grandfather…Grumps. I huff out a quiet laugh at the name that seems to so perfectly suit the old man despite his obvious humour; maybe it’s an ironic pet name. Grumps and Prickles, it’s like a comedy double act. Rather than taking a seat as he suggests, I first head into the bathroom to check my appearance and wash my hands.

Once I finish and settle myself on the sofa, the two of them enter the room as well, Harrison carrying a tea tray with three mugs and a plate of chocolate digestives.

“So, Sam the Psychic PI.” Grumps grins as he lowers himself into a chair, his knees cracking loudly. “Harry tells me you’ve had some strange cases.”

“Hmm.” My eyes narrow. “Before we get into that, which one do you belong to? Dad or Pops?”

Grumps snorts. “Lucas, aka Pops, is my son. Hayden, aka Dad, is my son-in-law.”

“Huh, I would have said it was the other way around.”

He picks up his mug and sips as Harrison hands me mine and sits down next to me on the sofa. “So, tell me about these paranormal cases.”

“Actually, I can do one better than that.” I turn my head to Harrison. “That was what I was coming over to talk about.”

“You usually use your mouth for talking, not your hands. Unless that was the kinkiest version of sign language I’ve ever seen.” Grumps innocently takes another sip of his tea.

“Ignore him,” Harrison says dryly. “He thinks he’s funny, but he’s been trying his hardest to win the coveted title of Resident Casanova ever since my dads settled him in that retirement community back home. People in glass houses and all that…”

“Fine, spoilsport.” He scowls and picks up a biscuit, dunking it rather forcefully in his tea. “Apparently, Sam, you get to a certain age and you’re not allowed to have fun anymore.”

“Only when it comes with the risk of STIs or throwing out a hip,” Harrison says tartly, picking up a biscuit and dunking it just as ferociously while they glare at each other.