Drive Me Wild - Melanie Harlow Page 0,89
you?” asked Frannie.
“Because I aided and abetted the escape of her future daughter-in-law, AKA the mother of her future grandchildren.”
“Griffin isn’t speaking to anybody?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about the news. I went back and forth between wanting him to be as heartbroken as I was and hoping he was doing okay.
“Nope. And when he does, he’s grouchy as a bear.” Cheyenne dropped onto a counter stool. “The damn fool is lost without you, but he’s too stubborn to admit it.”
“Men,” said Frannie with vehemence, rubbing at a stubborn smudge on the glass. “What’s Griffin’s problem exactly?”
“His last relationship ended badly,” I said, hoping I wasn’t betraying a confidence. “And he sort of made up his mind at that juncture of his life that being alone suited him better.”
“But everybody has baggage,” Frannie said. “Right?”
“Griff also gets a lot of pressure from our mom to ‘find a nice girl and settle down,’” added Cheyenne, hooking her fingers into air quotes. “And there is nothing that makes my brother angrier than being told what to do. He’s got an independent streak a mile long, always has. Frankly, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did in the military.”
“I think he liked the military for what it taught him about self-discipline,” I said.
“He needed it.” Cheyenne laughed. “All that adrenaline was too much for one small town when he was young. But it’s amazing to me the way you understand him, Blair. It’s so obvious how good you are together.”
I shrugged helplessly. “Not much I can do if he doesn’t feel the way I feel.”
“But he does.” Cheyenne banged her palm on the marble. “That’s what kills me—he does. I can see it. My mother sees it. The whole town sees it!”
“You know, if it makes you feel any better, Blair, Mack gave me a really hard time too,” offered Frannie.
“Really?” It shocked me, because he was so crazy in love with her now.
“Oh, God yes. You can ask his girls sometime. He was awful. He ended things because he was convinced that he would never get married again or have more children, and he knew I wanted those things. He looked at it like he was doing me a favor—breaking it off quickly so that I’d move on and find the right person for me.”
“That’s what Griffin said too! That he was doing me a favor.” I shook my head as my eyes filled. “But it’s not true.”
“Of course it’s not,” Frannie said, taking my hand. “What he’s doing is what Mack did—retreating so he doesn’t have to deal with his baggage. Face his fears.”
“Exactly,” Cheyenne said.
“And the worst thing is, there’s nothing you can do about it.” Frannie squeezed my hand. “He just has to be miserable enough without you to come to the conclusion that what you have is worth the risk.”
“I don’t think that’s ever going to happen,” I said sadly. “And the sooner I face reality, the better.”
“Listen, my bullheaded brother isn’t really why I came to see you. I have something for you.” Cheyenne pulled a large yellow envelope from her bag and slid it across the counter toward me.
“What is it?” I picked up the envelope and looked at it. On the outside, my name was written in wiggly black ink.
“It’s from Charlie Frankel,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe it’s a love letter.”
“Who’s Charlie Frankel?” asked Frannie.
“He’s a cute old widowed man in our town with a gigantic crush on Blair,” said Cheyenne. “He was devastated when she left Bellamy Creek.”
“He liked my baking,” I explained, sliding my finger along the envelope’s seal.
Cheyenne laughed. “I’m pretty sure he liked the entire package. He’s rich too, you know. Maybe he can be your sugar daddy.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, no. He’s more like the grandpa I never had.”
“Anyway, he went over to the garage and gave this to my mother—she’s back behind the desk now—and Mom asked me if I could get it to you. I was going to mail it, but I decided to come for a visit instead.”
“She called me yesterday to tell me she was driving up,” explained Frannie with a guilty smile, “but I wasn’t allowed to say anything.”
“It’s a great surprise,” I said, smiling as I pulled two pieces of paper from the envelope. “Thank you.”
“So what is it?” Frannie asked curiously.
The top page was a handwritten note from Mr. Frankel on plain white paper. “Looks like a letter and . . .” I looked at the