My voice comes out sounding strangled when I respond.
“Be right there.”
Fifteen minutes later, hornier than a teenager at a Playboy party, I slam my truck in park next to Robin’s Honda. I don’t even bother taking my shit out of the truck but head straight for the detached two-car garage, set back from the house.
Soft light flickers in the single window on the side of the building, but I aim for the left bay door behind, where the Mustang is parked under a dust tarp. I roll up the door, wincing when my jeans prove to be tighter than I anticipated.
The inside is lit with a single lantern sitting on the workbench. My immediate focus is drawn to the Mustang, the dustcover off, and the paint gleaming in the sparse light.
Leaning back against the hood is Robin; naked as the day she was born.
“Welcome home, honey.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Robin
“What’s wrong with your arm?”
Of course the first thing Paige notices is the stress bandage wrapped around my wrist. I shoot a quick glance at Gray, who is suddenly very interested in his boots.
I’m not about to tell her it’s the result of a very enthusiastic—but probably ill-advised—effort to scratch an item off Gray’s bucket list. Luckily she can’t see his swollen knee, or she might guess.
Our adventure in the garage was all very sexy, until I got a cramp in my calf in the middle of… Anyway, Gray attempted to lift me off the hood, had forgotten his jeans were around his ankles, and started going down. He sacrificed his knee and I tried to brace for impact by sticking out my hand.
The whole thing was a clusterfuck—quite literally.
I plaster a smile on my face for my daughter’s sake.
“I tripped over the cat,” I lie, silently apologizing to Zeus for throwing him under the bus. “It’s just a sprain. Now, do I get a hug?”
Paige takes the few steps separating us and I can fold her in my arms.
“Hey, Mom,” she mumbles in my neck.
“Hey, sweetheart. So glad you’re here.” I glance over her shoulder to Gray, who is observing us with a faint smile on his lips.
The next moment she lets me go and turns to him.
“Hey, Gray.”
“Paige,” he barely gets out, before Paige plants her face in his chest and wraps her arms around his waist. I almost laugh out loud when I see the brief look of panic on his face before he awkwardly pats her back. “Your drive okay?”
She lets him go and steps back, and he quickly tucks his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah. I lucked out with the weather. Not a snowflake in sight.”
“That’s good,” he grumbles, still looking a little uneasy. “If you give me your keys, I’ll drive it over to the apartment. I’ve got someone meeting me there to help. We can get started on unloading, while you catch up with your mom.”
“If you’re sure. I just wanna grab a quick bite of something and we’ll be on our way.”
“Positive.”
She hands him her keys and he leans in, pressing a kiss on my hair. We watch as he gets behind the wheel of the small SUV, quickly adjusting the seat for more legroom. Paige quietly snickers beside me.
“You sure you don’t wanna stay here tonight?” I offer, hooking my arm through hers as Gray drives off.
“I’d rather get this done today, so I can drop the trailer off in the morning.” She starts pulling me toward the house. “But first you need to feed me.”
It always amazes how natural it feels when my daughter is home. I grin when she heads straight for the kitchen.
“What’ve you got?” she asks, her head already in the fridge. “Oh, apple pie.”
She pulls out the pie, grabs a fork from the drawer, and starts eating right from the pan.
“I have plates, you know,” I scold her, only partially meaning it.
“No need to get any dirty,” she says with an apple pie filled grin, as she sits down at the table.
Shaking my head I pour her a glass of milk, setting it beside the pie plate she’s guarding with her arm curved around it.
Some things never change. She may be all grown-up, but to me she’s still that little pigtailed girl.
“That was nice of Gray to offer, by the way.” She glances up at me and I bite off a grin.
“It was,” I agree, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. “Although I have a suspicion there was a little more to it than just being nice.”
Paige raises an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
“He may have had second thoughts about asking Kyle to help move your stuff.”
“Kyle? Isn’t that the guy at Olson’s?”
I recognize the way she tucks her hair behind her ear and widens her eyes in mock-innocence. Oh, my girl knows exactly who I’m talking about.
“Mmmm,” I mumble in confirmation.
Paige suddenly gets up and shoves the massacred apple pie back in the fridge, drops her fork in the sink, and moves toward the bathroom.
“I’m just gonna freshen up before we go,” she mutters, as she disappears from sight.
This should be interesting.
I’m chuckling at the stormy expression on Gray’s face as Kyle stubbornly hauls my daughter’s coffee table up the stairs to the apartment by himself. Paige is waiting in the doorway.
“Down boy,” I whisper in his ear.
“He’s a punk,” Gray grumbles.
“He is not. He’s a nice kid, who works hard and obviously aims to impress my daughter.”
He harrumphs, sounding so much like my dad used to it hits me with a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. I slide my hand in his and entwine our fingers.
“Go easy, honey,” I caution him, my tone drawing his attention as he turns his head to look at me. “Paige hasn’t exactly been exposed to protective men before. You may want to introduce her gently.”
He tries to smile but the annoyance isn’t quite gone from his eyes, so I hook a
