Griffin simply shakes his head, and sidesteps her to enter the home.
“Hope you’re hungry, Blair.” Nan winks.
I offer her a soft smile and follow her inside.
Here goes nothing.
A beautiful woman enters the hallway, holding a dishrag, drying her hands, and stops when she notices me.
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest?” She beams at Griffin.
I feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment because the last thing I want to be is a burden and overstep my welcome.
I open my mouth to respond, but Griffin beats me to it.
“She’s my neighbor.”
My head snaps in his direction, and I force a smile.
That hurt way more than it should.
I know my brain has been so back and forth for a little while now, wondering if this is what I want. Do I want more? Kind of. No. Idowant more.
“I’m Mary,” his mom says.
“I’m Blair,” I say, taking a few steps to greet her with my hand extended. She takes my hand in hers. “I’ve heard nothing but good things.”
Nan chokes on her drink somewhere beside me.
“You don’t have to lie to us,” an older man says, entering the hallway to greet us. He extends his hand in front of me. “I’m Eugene. Everyone calls me Gene.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.”
“You two are just in time,” Mary says, guiding us to the table set up for dinner already. “Dinner is ready.”
I follow Griffin, wrapping a hand around his thick bicep and stopping him before we enter the kitchen. “You didn’t tell them I was coming?”
“I’m a man full of surprises, sweetheart.” He winks. “If I told them I was bringing someone she would have broken out the fine China. This is casual.”
“Okay.”
It’s all I can think to even say. I mean, when it comes to his family, he knows better than me, that’s for sure.
Mary sets up an extra table setting. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to bring out the fancy dinnerware for you, Blair. This one”—she tilts her head toward Griffin—“didn’t think to tell us you were coming.”
I find Griffin smirking in the corner of the room.
“Don’t be sorry, ma’am. I appreciate you making a spot for me,” I tell her honestly.
“None of that ‘ma’am’ stuff,” she says, waving me off.
Mary and Eugene bring dishes to the table while Griffin pulls out a chair, extending his arm to show me my seat.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks.
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
He nods, retreating to the kitchen with his mom and dad right behind him.
