“Huh?”
“You smell like mint, which means you brushed your teeth, which means I’m the only one with morning breath. And that means you snuck out of bed.”
She giggled again and stuck her tongue out, licking the pout on his face. “You taste amazing. I, on the other hand, had to pee, then looked at myself in the mirror. It was rather frightening, totally non-sexy, and I smelled icky.”
“Icky?”
“Yeah, icky. What’s wrong with saying icky?” she asked, propping her forearms on his chest, trying to ignore the feel of his cock firming against her tummy.
“Nothing’s wrong with icky if you’re five years old.”
Elbowing him in the ribs, eliciting a grunt, she asked, “Did it feel like a five-year-old had her mouth—umph—”
He flipped her so she was now underneath him and sealed his mouth over hers, the kiss flaming as his hips pressed and his cock was nestled against her heat. All thoughts fled her mind other than this man in her bed on a Sunday morning, nowhere to go, nothing to do but just hang on for the ride. And she hung on…
Caitlyn pushed her plate back after having sopped up the last dibble of syrup with her final bite of pancake. Leaning back in her chair with her sweetened and creamed coffee in her hand, she looked over as Griffin polished off the last of his breakfast as well. Everything about their date played on a loop in her mind, from the moment she saw him until they woke up together this morning. Part of her was searching for any sign that he was not as wonderful as he seemed. But she came up empty.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so comfortable with a man whose last name wasn’t McBride or King. She tried to rein in her stampede of emotions, not wanting to overwhelm him by being too needy, too clingy, too demanding. But, if she was honest, she hoped they had more time to enjoy each other. Adopting a casual tone, she asked, “So, what have you got going on today?”
He also pushed his plate back, took a long sip of his coffee, and smiled. “I’ve got nothing special other than spending time with you, I hope.”
His words so mirrored her own thoughts, she forced down the squeal that threatened to erupt. His eyes jerked open wider, giving evidence that she hadn’t completely swallowed her excitement.
“I take it that’s okay with you?” he asked, chuckling.
“Well, my attempt at being coy has obviously failed miserably. So, yes, spending as much time as possible with you today is exactly what I’d love to do.”
“Good.” He set his mug back on the table and leaned forward, taking her hand in his own. With his thumb driving her to distraction as he rubbed it over her knuckles, he said, “I just need to run by a couple of my other worksites to simply make sure everything is secure.”
“Wouldn’t that have been done when your crews left at the end of yesterday?”
He nodded, then sighed. “I’m having a little trouble with some worksite thefts. I don’t want to think that it’s anyone on my crew, but I have to admit that I’d be foolish to not consider it might be someone that works for me.”
Rearing back, she gasped. “You’re kidding? I can’t imagine who would steal from their own team.”
Lifting a brow, he reminded, “And didn’t you mention that there’s always the possibility someone in the school system is helping the kids pass on drugs?”
She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping. “You’re right. I suppose no one’s above suspicion, are they?”
“Do you remember the night at the ER?” She rolled her eyes and he quickly continued, “Yeah, I guess you do. Anyway, one of my newer hires, Roscoe, had gotten hurt and has been out since then. Right after he was injured and stopped coming to work, the thefts stopped. One of my other men suggested that it might have been Roscoe who wasn’t leaving the work area secure. But he’s not scheduled to come back for another week, and I had a few things missing the other day. I’ve been after everybody to take equipment with them or lock it up, but somehow, I’m still losing shit.”
It struck her how much he carried on his shoulders. He wasn’t just a woodworker who created historical art but ran his own business. The responsibilities for his clients as well as his employees must weigh heavily on his shoulders. She stood and walked to his chair, straddling his lap, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so in awe of you, Griffin.” He cocked his head to the side, a crease settling between his brows. “I am in awe of you because of everything you do. All that you’re responsible for. And if you’d like some company, I’d be honored to visit your other worksites with you.”
He laughed, his hands sliding down her back to squeeze her ass. “You might be in awe of me, but sweetheart, I can’t imagine spending my day with a bunch of hormonal, attitude-riddled teenagers. Give me my historical houses and my crew any day.”
She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, and just as he was about to take the kiss deeper, she pulled back. “As much as I’d love to do nothing more than kiss you, that’s gonna lead us to being right back in bed. I really want to see your houses.”
It didn’t take long for them to get dressed and back into Griffin’s truck. He drove them to several houses, all with residents living inside, but they walked around the outside, checking to make sure there was no equipment or materials left unsecured. Driving toward the high school, he said, “I know you got to look at this one when you brought Russ over, but I can show you some more details.”
Excited, she hopped down from the truck and eagerly linked fingers with him as they walked toward the home. “Where are the owners?”
“They bought the house about six months ago, and it was in good shape. But, unfortunately, there had been some renovations that, while decent, had completely taken away the historical accuracy of a house like this. So, when they hired me, they’re staying in their Florida vacation condo until the inside work is complete.”
“I see those shows on TV and they're always tearing down walls and ripping out cabinets to do renovations. How do you take an old house and renovate it without demolishing so much of what’s inside?”
“A lot depends on what the owner wants to accomplish. If they just want a modern renovation, then I usually refer them to another contractor. Not that we can’t do that, but I prefer to maintain some of the historical integrity of the original home or even bring back features that were obliterated in a previous reno.”
Stunned, they walked hand-in-hand into the house. She’d seen it when she came with Russ, had wandered into a few rooms, but was mostly so anxious that Russ presented himself well and for Griffin to appreciate all the young man had to offer that the house was secondary to anything else. But now, she entered, her mind fully on what Griffin was describing, seeing the history through his eyes.
“So, your specialty is Victorian?”
“I can work on others, but Victorian homes are my first love. It’s the details. The stair and porch spindles that weren’t just a rectangle of wood but were turned and carved, creating works of art. Wood cutouts and reliefs.” He rested his hand on a beautifully carved mantle over the fireplace and turned his attention to her. “But, you’d know all about this period in literature.”