A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

GRIFFIN

T he girls’ side of the duplex smells like fresh paint. I make a mental note to open some windows and air out the place as I stride into the kitchen with another of Finley’s boxes. I thought the smell would have faded some by now since the construction company finally finished the renovation while Finley and I were on our road trip. It felt like every time we turned around, they threw us yet another curveball. But as soon as the city announced this side of the duplex was livable, Finley pulled the trigger on moving back over here early, despite the lack of furniture. In spite of the strong smell tainting the air, she’s anxious to gain some space from the two fuck bunnies across the hall.

Her words, not mine.

I’m not complaining, though. Now that everyone knows about us, we could use the space without Everett breathing down our necks. Don’t get me wrong. Ever since our talk at the gym, he’s been…supportive. Or at least, Ev’s version of supportive.

But being respectful when I’m finally able to touch Finley the way I’ve always wanted to is harder than I expected, and my blue balls can attest to it. Hell, this is the first time we’ve been together since the party without feeling like we have to walk on eggshells, and the moment’s never been sweeter.

“Is it weird that I kind of love how empty the place is?” Finley asks. With her arms open wide, she spins around the empty family room. Thanks to the smoke from the fire and water damage from the sprinklers, the furniture had to be replaced, though the new stuff won’t be delivered for another two weeks.

“Never pegged you for a minimalist,” I say as I set yet another box on the kitchen counter. We spent the last couple of hours packing her stuff into boxes, and carrying them over here. Her mattress is in her room, but the majority of small boxes containing things like clothes and toiletries are scattered along her bedroom floor and have now spread into the kitchen.

Yeah. Minimalist isn’t a term I’d use to describe the girl in front of me, for sure.

With a smirk, Finley sways toward me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Gotta put these muscles to work, Griff.”

“Are you using me for my body?”

“I mean…can you blame me?” She drags her hands down my biceps and squeezes before snaking them along my trap muscles, noting, “Although you are a dirty boy.”

With a laugh, I wrap my arms around her waist and sway us back and forth. Her feet are bare, and her baggy, hot pink sweats hang low on her hips. I splay my fingers against her lower back and memorize the feel of her silky skin in my hands. “Are you complaining?”

“Hardly.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she kisses me softly. “I like it when you make me dirty.” Her heels hit the ground, and she rests her head on my chest as I chuckle quietly. This girl. To say she’s a handful is an understatement, but I’ve learned to crave the chaos. The smartass remarks. The teasing. Fuck, I crave everything about her.

“I also like it when you dance with me like this,” she adds with a wistful sigh.

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“I mean, I could always use some music, but…”

Keeping her pressed against me with one hand, I fish in the front pocket of my joggers, pull out my phone, and open Spotify. As an IndieCent Vows song filters through the speaker, I set my cell down on the kitchen counter and pull Finley closer into me.

Her laugh is light and airy as she lifts her head, smiling up at me. “Smooth.”

“I can be smooth.”

“I’m aware. You’re very smooth. Why else do you think I let you into my pants?”

“So, it wasn’t my charming personality?”

She snorts. “Nah. It was definitely the body that got you into my pants, but it’s the personality that won you a season pass, so you’re welcome.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “Are you saying I’ll have to renew in a year?”

“You’ll be gone in a year,” she points out.

With a frown, I lean back, making sure I can study her expression. “You really think I’m going anywhere?”

“Uh, I know you’ll be going somewhere.” She fake-coughs. “Tornadoes.” Cough, cough.

Her nonchalance would kill me if I didn’t know her better. The way she ticks. The way she hides her vulnerability behind a thick coat of sarcasm. Yeah. I know Finley Taylor. And this girl? She’s kind of attached to me, too.

At least the feeling’s mutual .

I tuck her long dark hair behind her ear. “We’ll figure it out.”

She stays quiet, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, then gives a slow nod. “Careful, Griffin. If you keep dancing with me like this, I just might believe you.”

I lean in for another kiss, and she raises her chin, meeting me halfway. It’s been like this for a while now. Tiptoeing around my contract with the Tornadoes, and the expiration date accompanying it. After our lunch meeting, my agent reached out to Deemwater. He wanted to confirm I hadn’t pissed the GM off by rejecting his offer before I played like shit against the Bulldogs. By some miracle, the Tornadoes are still anxious for me to represent their organization. It should make me feel better. Instead, I’m preoccupied with what-if’s.

Finley’s whole life is here. And mine? Mine’s waiting for me a thousand miles away. Closing my eyes, I drag my tongue along the seam of her lips, memorizing the shape. The softness. The taste.

A quiet sigh escapes her.

“Question,” she murmurs against my mouth, then pulls away, peeking up at me.

“Yeah?”

“Do you, uh…” She hesitates, and her eyes become nothing but slits.

“Am I in trouble?”

With a slow shake of her head, she explains, “I’m debating something.”

“And what are you debating?”

“Something…personal.”

I stop us from swaying. “What is it?”

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to change my mind or not.”

Smothering my amusement, I argue, “You can’t do that. ”

“Do what?”

“You can’t dangle the bait like that.”

“What bait?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Who says I’m?—”

My fingers dig into her sides. The girl almost crumbles like a deck of cards, but I keep her in place, tickling the shit out of her as her legs buckle beneath her.

“No tickling!” she yells through bouts of laughter, squirming against me, her elbows fusing to her sides. “You’re gonna make me pee!”

I stop my assault and cock my head. “Are you gonna tell me?”

The same mock glare takes up her expression as she finds her feet. “Fine.” Brushing herself off, she grabs my wrists, places them at her lower waist, then wraps her arms around my neck again, urging me to continue our dance.

Once we’re swaying again, I warn, “Three. Two?—”

“Do you…” She pauses again and peeks up at me through her dark lashes.

Hell, it’s like she’s fucking begging me to kiss her, but I stay strong and push, “Yes?”

“Do you…want to go with me to my neurologist appointment next week?”

I pull back, surprised. “You want me to come?”

“I mean, no pressure, obviously, but yeah. Yeah, I think I do. He’s gonna talk about the baby, and we’re gonna come up with a game plan, and since you’re the only one who knows about everything, I figured…”

“I’d love to.” My fingers dig into her spine while I fight the urge to kiss the shit out of her all over again. This is big. She might not know it. Might not want to acknowledge it. But the invitation? Fuck, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Not even the Stanley Cup .

Her forehead wrinkles. “Really?”

I laugh. “Yeah. Of course, I would.”

“You’re sure?”

“I told you you’re not alone, remember?”

“And you’re not saying this just because I asked and you want to get into my pants?” she challenges.

I smack her ass, and she yelps, squirming against me all over again, but I hold strong, continuing to lead our dance.

Her eyes narrow, but she gives in almost instantly. As her body relaxes against me, she points out, “You’re right. You could’ve gotten into my pants without agreeing to go to my doctor’s appointment.”

“I’d go to your doctor’s appointment even if what’s in your pants wasn’t on the table,” I counter. “You know that.”

“I do,” she agrees. “And that’s why I’m inviting you.”

I capture her mouth with another kiss, lost in the feel of her against me and the way her lips move with mine. This girl. This fucking girl.

When she pulls away and licks her bottom lip, I rasp, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Fin.”

Another warm smile spreads across her face. “Good. Now, are these your only dance moves? Or?—”

I spin her around, then pull her closer, dipping her over my arm. When her long, black hair nearly touches the floor, she laughs. “Whoa there, mister.”

“Sorry, but it sounded like a challenge.”

Twirling her around, her tinkling amusement mingles with the music until the moonlight filters in through the windows, and it’s like everything else with her.

Fucking perfect.