Page 23 of No Going Back
Something crashed to the floor, the sound of the toppling item followed immediately by a strange scratching.
It was fast and sharp, but not loud. What in the hell would make that kind of—
He had his answer a second later when a fat, fluffy squirrel launched itself through the doorway in front of him, flying full tilt in his direction.
“What the fuck—” Griffin jerked to one side, barely managing to miss the rodent’s grabby little paws as they scrambled for purchase. Instead of hitting him, it landed on the back of a comfortable-looking chair, barely pausing before jumping to the couch and scrambling up the curtains.
“Snickerdoodle. I swear to God, I never would’ve been your friend if I’d known you were going to act like this.” The woman of the house rushed into the living room, a spatula in one hand and a cutting board in the other. “Get out of my house you little asshole.”
“Dianna?” Griffin stared, unable to look away.
It had been so long since he’d seen her. Three weeks of avoiding The Baking Rack and the woman who owned it had felt like fucking forever. But now that he was face-to-face with her, he knew it was absolutely the right thing to do. Because even after only two seconds with her, all he wanted was to figure out how to get his hands on her again. How to convince her to let him bury his head between those soft, creamy thighs a second time.
Dianna straightened, eyes wide. “Griffin?” She pressed the cutting board to her chest before crossing both arms over it, obscuring his view of her perfect tits through the thin fabric of her nightgown. “What are you doing here?”
That’s when it hit him.
“You live here.” He glanced around the space, taking in the full effect of his surroundings.
If he’d had to pick out what he thought Dianna’s home would look like, this would be it. Everything looked comfortable and welcoming, from the overstuffed furniture to the plush blanket draped over a ladder style rack propped against one wall. The paint on the walls was the same pale, robin’s egg blue of the paint at The Baking Rack, and the floral print of the curtains hinted at the design on Dianna’s business cards. “This is your house.”
“I know it’s my house. I just don’t understand why you’re in it.” She hugged the cutting board a little tighter, almost as if she was trying to hide behind it.
Hide from him.
“I heard screaming.” It reminded him why he was there. He took a step to the left, blocking the path the squirrel would have to take if it tried to jump at Dianna. “I came over to see what was wrong.”
Dianna’s skin paled. “Came over from where?”
There was dread in her voice. Like maybe she knew the answer to the question before she asked it.
He’d spent the last three weeks trying to convince himself Dianna’s reasons for pushing him away had nothing to do with him. That even if they did, it was for the best. He was in Moss Creek to focus on his son. That was why he restructured his business and sold his house. So he could be the dad he never had the chance to be. Not so he could fuck up another woman’s life and ruin his best shot at finally having a family.
But the fear on Dianna’s face still cut into his hide.
The only thing he could do was rip the band-aid off and hope the sting didn’t last. “I bought the house next door.”
“No.” She stared at him, unblinking. “You’re kidding.”
Griffin shook his head. “We closed on it yesterday.”
He’d been able to put in an offer and sign the papers in under two weeks thanks to his willingness to skip inspections and his ability to pay cash. The only reason it took as long as it did was because the family he bought it from had to move out everything they wanted to keep.
“I thought you were staying with Troy and Amelie.” Dianna pressed one hand to her head. “Out at Cross Creek.”
“I was, but I can’t live with them forever. They have their own life to live and with the baby—”
Dianna’s eyes widened. “The baby?”
Shit. “I shouldn’t have said that. They haven’t told anyone yet.” This was why he was supposed to be focusing only on Troy.
He had a lifelong habit of royally fucking up every relationship he got into. It would take everything he had to make sure he didn’t ruin the one with his son. He couldn’t afford to divide his attention. He couldn’t afford to risk it.
Dianna’s expression softened, hinting at a smile. “I won’t say anything.” One side of her mouth lifted. “Grandpa.”
And just like that the tension in the air snapped, breaking apart. “Now that was just mean.”
Dianna laughed, looking a little more relaxed. But her laughter was short-lived. She sobered almost immediately, posture going stiff, expression tight. Like she remembered what had happened between them.
