In the tent, Griff pulled me closer and said with a low chuckle, "Wanna bet?"
At least three hours had passed since I'd surprised him in the darkened shop. We'd spent much of that time getting reacquainted in all my favorite ways, and now I was feeling nearly giddy as we traded stories in the night.
Yes, Ididrealize that we had only been apart for a few days, but those days had been way too long, filled with empty nights and dreary afternoons.
Tomorrow night, we would be staying at my place.Together.
Just the thought of it made me smile against his bare chest. Tessa would almost surely agree, especially after I apologized for being so weird the other night.
Things were definitely coming together.
Even so, I couldn't quite believe what Griff had just told me – that growing up in the trailer, he'd had to heat bathwater on the stove.
It sounded impossible. "But that would take like a dozen pots."
"Or just three," he corrected, "if you don't mind a lukewarm bath." He chuckled into my hair. "And besides, three was all we could do."
"Why?"
"Because that's all we had."
"Seriously? You had only three pots?"
"No. Three burners on the stove. The fourth one never worked." But then he paused, and his tone grew thoughtful. "But come to think of it, you're right."
"About what?"
"The pots. I don't remember having a fourth. And to call them pots was a stretch."
"How so?"
"One of them – this little sauce pan – it was good for maybe a can of soup, and I don't mean for two."
"But what about your hot water heater? Are you saying you didn't have one at all?"
"Sure we did. Until it broke." With a hint of amusement, he asked, "Do you know how much those things cost?"
I did, actually.My own hot water heater was probably on its last legs. I'd priced a new one just after Christmas. The cost hadn't been agiantfortune, but it had been big enough to make me pause.
And don't get me started on the installation.
I asked, "So how long did that go on?"
"Us heating water by stove? Not that long. Maybe a year – 'til I worked out a trade."
I was beyond curious. "What kind of trade?"
"There was this kid I went to school with – his dad was a plumber. He found us a used tank – one this rich family was tossing."
"But wait…whywouldthey? Throw it out, I mean?"
"I'll tell you why." His tone grew mocking. "It was too small. Only forty gallons."
I paused at the number. My own tank was thirty gallons. And as long as nobody showered back-to-back, it had done its job mostly fine…well, until it had started acting up this past winter. I trailed a hand across Griff's bare shoulder and said with a little laugh, "But forty's not even small."
"Yeah, but they wanted seventy-five, so they tossed the old one and told the plumber to trash it."
"But he didn't?"
