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“No.” Remy shook his head. “They come over to help my mom while my dad’s at work.”
Again, I wanted to ask questions I shouldn’t. Remy’s warning stare forced me to swallow my curiosity.
Remy’s grandmother invited me to stay for dinner, and I called my mom to make sure that was okay. When their dad came home, Molly and Remy barely acknowledged him. The man seemed perpetually annoyed, but he did help himself to dinner and a beer before disappearing out to the garage.
Nana Clary, as Remy’s grandmother said I could call her, insisted I take a bag of apple crumb muffins when I left. I so badly wanted to eat them all on my way home, but I also wanted to save one for the morning.
“See you tomorrow,” Remy said.
The Holt house was strange but also warm and welcoming. I didn’t want to leave and return to the cold indifference of my own home.
It felt like I’d found a family.
CHAPTER FIVE
Molly
I still can’t believe last night actually happened.
Remy chewed me out for coming home so late without letting him know where I was, but I didn’t even care. I was too high from my time with Griff.
Then the doubts settled in. Why’d I tell him I’d never done that before? Griff’s used to all those confident, experienced girls that hang around the fights. He probably thinks I’m a weirdo now.
My spiral into the abyss of embarrassment is interrupted by the doorbell echoing through the house.
Griff.
It has to be him. He promised to be here to help Remy. Griff always keeps his word.
Should I hide in my room? Go see him? Can I play it cool? Or will my brother sense something’s up? Can I even look Griff in the eye today?
I quickly grab a red tank top from my dresser drawer and slip it on. The straps are wide enough to hide my red, flowered bra but tight enough to be flattering, and the square neckline doesn’t expose too much. I wiggle into a pair of dark jeans.
Nerves tie me into a knot again. I can’t look at Griff in the daylight.
It’ll be weird if I hide. Griff was just as into what we were doing last night as I was. I have to see him.
As if pulled by an invisible string, I grab a brush off my dresser and dash into the hallway. The need to see Griff outweighs any lingering embarrassment.
I hurry down the stairs, running the brush through my hair as I go. Ugh, I don’t want Remy to open the door first.
Griff’s in the living room, my brother nowhere in sight. I stop dead at the foot of the stairs.
“Morning, Muffin,” he says, holding up a brown paper bag that has to contain at least one blueberry muffin from Busy Beans Cafe. He almost always brings me muffins on the weekends. The bag bulges with goodies, an irregular greasy stain seeping through the paper.
My mouth waters, and not from the plump muffins that will be bursting with sweet blueberries in Griff’s hands. I rake my gaze over Griff’s faded blue T-shirt and loose gray track pants. It doesn’t matter what he wears though—he always looks good.
I toss the brush toward the couch and slow my steps. Don’t look too eager. Chill. You’ve got this.
“Morning.” My hoarse voice sounds like I just woke up. I take the bag from him and bounce it in the air a few times. “It’s heavy.”
“I brought extras for your brother and me.” He raises an eyebrow. “If you’re willing to share.” A smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
His mouth. His lips. The memory of kissing him—no, making out with him last night slams into me, dampening my underwear. The rush of desire is quickly followed by a hot flush of shame.
Did I really grind on his lap until I came last night? In his car? Out on the street? What’s the matter with me?
“Hey,” he says in a low voice, crowding into my space. He brushes his knuckles over my cheek and stares into my eyes, concern darkening his expression. “What’s that look for? You don’t like muffins anymore?”
