Drive Me Wild - Melanie Harlow Page 0,26
I asked him a question, but even then, his answers were short.
“Is that the lake over there?”
“Yes.”
“Is this where you went to elementary school?”
“Yes.”
“Why does it smell so good here?” I stuck my head out the open passenger window and inhaled.
“Lavender farm.”
“I didn’t know lavender grew in Michigan.”
“It does.”
“Why are you so tense?”
“I’m not.”
I stared at his handsome profile and sighed heavily.
The set of his jaw grew stubborn. “My mother thinks she knows better than I do how to run my life. It gets to me.”
“I understand. Believe me.”
He glanced at me. “Yeah, maybe you do.”
A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of a charming two-story Arts and Crafts-style home with a deep front porch and well-tended lawn. The house was painted a cornflower blue and all the trim was white. “Did you grow up here?” I asked as Griffin parked along the curb.
“Yes.”
“It’s so pretty!” I got out of the truck and looked around at the neighborhood. The houses were close together, and they had small front yards but big front porches, and groups of kids were out playing all along the block. Girls with sidewalk chalk and jump ropes, boys riding bikes, a game of basketball happening in someone’s driveway. It looked homey and safe, like everyone in the neighborhood was sort of like family. So different from the gated community full of McMansions where I’d grown up, with all the houses set far apart on a golf course.
“It wasn’t pretty where you grew up?” he asked.
“It was, but in a different way. I didn’t have friends right in my neighborhood. I never played hopscotch on the driveway or rode bikes to the ice cream store or had a lemonade stand with friends. I had no siblings either. I had to be the voices of all my Barbies—maybe that’s why I talk so much.”
Griffin laughed as I followed him up the brick walk. He waved to a group of young girls running through the sprinkler on the front lawn next door, and one of them waved back. “Hi, Uncle Griffin!”
“Hi, Mariah,” he called back. “Your dad home?”
She shook her head, her hair throwing water droplets. “He’s at work. Grandma is here.”
Griffin nodded. “That’s Cole’s daughter,” he said to me. “My goddaughter.”
“Adorable.” I smiled at her. “How old is she?”
“Eight. They moved in with his mom after Cole’s wife died.”
I gasped. “How did she die?”
“Giving birth to Mariah, actually.”
My heart ached for the handsome police officer I’d met last night, and for his cute young daughter. “God, that’s awful. He never remarried?”
Griffin shook his head. “Nope.”
We climbed the steps onto the front porch, and I noticed the pretty hanging baskets of flowers and white rocking chairs and the welcome mat that read Fáilte. Before we could even knock on the wooden screen door, someone pulled it open.
“Well, hi there, big brother.” A pretty woman with a long, caramel-colored braid over one shoulder and wide brown eyes grinned at us. She had the same dimple in her chin that Griffin did. “Glad you could make it.” She winked at me. “And this must be your bride.”
“Don’t start,” he warned her. “Blair, this is my sister, Cheyenne.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You too.” She stood back, holding the door. “I was hoping to set eyes on the girl who made Griffin break his number one rule. Come on in. Mom’s in the den if you want to say hello.”
“Is it optional?” Griffin muttered.
Cheyenne laughed. “Probably not.”
Griffin looked at me. “One last warning. My mother can be overbearing. And dramatic. And she plays dumb even though she’s not.”
“It’s her favorite game,” confirmed Cheyenne.
I laughed, still wondering what the number one rule was that Griffin had broken for me. “I’ll remember that.”
Cheyenne led the way through the living room and dining room toward a small den that looked like it had been added on to the back of the house at some point. A woman with a messy cap of silvery hair was resting on the sofa watching television, but she immediately got up when she saw us. Her face, gently lined with age, lit up with excitement. Right away, I saw where Griffin’s blue eyes had come from.
“Well, hello,” she said with enthusiasm, ignoring Griffin to take both my hands in hers. “What a lovely, lovely surprise!”
“Mom, this is Blair,” he said.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Blair. I’m Darlene Dempsey.”
I smiled. “Nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Dempsey.”
“Please, call me Darlene.” She squeezed my hands. “Aren’t you adorable!