Page 13 of The Problem with Falling
She’d texted me about an hour ago that her friend had arrived, and as I pulled my truck up to my grandparents’, my stomach dropped when I saw the last thing I wanted to see.
Fucking.
Big.
Bird.
And standing on the side of the yellow school bus?
Fucking.
Little.
Bird.
CHAPTER 3
Willow
“What the hell are you doing here?” Theo barked as he marched over to the house in a huff. “Shouldn’t you be on your way out of town? What are you doing at my grandparents’ place?” Theo paused. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his broad, broad, holy hell, broad chest.
I didn’t recall him being that fit last night, but then again, he was wearing sweats. That morning, he had on a pair of blue jeans with a tight, bicep-hugging sky-blue T-shirt that brought out his eyes.
And how blue those eyes were.
His hair was brown, and his beard had the tints of red combing through it. He was easily six-foot-three, if not taller, and he definitely made me feel as if I were even shorter than my petite five-foot-three.
He would’ve looked handsome if he didn’t have that seemingly permanent frown plastered on his face.
His upside-down smile somehow deepened as he glared at me as if I were the oddest woman he’d ever met. That might’ve been true, too. Theo didn’t seem the type to have many friends. His main friend group probably included the Grinch, Ostruck the Grouch, and Eeyore.
“Are you stalking me?” he barked as true concern filled his eyes.
His distress rubbed me the wrong way because why was he concerned as if I were the stalker in our situation?
“Me? A stalker?” I yipped, stunned by the accusation. “Do you even know how stalking works? I was herefirst. Stalkers comesecond.”
“If you’re not stalking me, then why are you at my grandparents’ house?”
“I’m not at your grandparents’ house. I’m at my friend Molly’s house,” I countered.
His face dropped as a wave of disbelief hit his stare. “There’s no fucking way,” he remarked.
Mr. Grump sure had a foul mouth. If I had a bar of soap, I would’ve shoved it between his lips.
Just then, Molly came out of the house. “Oh, lovely! You two already met. I just ran inside to check on Harry. Theo, this is my greatest of friends, Willow. Willow, this is my grandson, Theodore.”
No way.
This was Theodore?
Theodore Langford—Molly’s grandson?
No way.
No freaking way.
There was no way the grumpy man standing in front of me, who stitched up my forehead while grumbling and pouting thewhole time, was Molly and Harry’s grandson. Harry and Molly Langford were two of the sweetest people I’d ever met. How did they manage to raise such a grouch? That couldn’t have been her grandson.
