Page 50 of Property of Grifter
Her grin turns sly.“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.If your boys keep losing their money to me the way they have been, I’ll be able to pay the down payment on this pretty little house myself, Griffy.”
She pats her hair and says, “I’m going to look at the kitchen again.”She wanders off humming, happy as a lark.
I step close to Georgia, brushing my thumb across her cheek.“You happy, baby?”
She nods, voice trembling.“So happy I’m scared it’s a dream.I’m worried I’ll wake up and you won’t be real.”
I tilt her chin up until our eyes meet.“Oh, I’m real, sweetheart.I’m right here.And I’m never leaving.”
She kisses me then—soft, deep, full of everything we’ve built together.Standing here in this big, beautiful barn-dominium, I recognize that this isn’t just a house.
It’s a new beginning.Georgia is my home.She’s part of my soul.
EPILOGUE
GEORGIA
It’s beentwo months since we bought the house, and every single morning still feels like I’m waking up in a dream.Nana calls it her “forever place.”She says the porch swing creaks just right, and the kitchen windows let in the kind of light that makes biscuits rise better.I love it too—so much that most days I don’t want to leave.
Today, however, I’m at the club.I’m paint-streaked and barefoot, working on a surprise mural in the main room.It’s big—really big—stretching across the longest wall.The scene is a line of riders heading down a two-lane highway, backs turned, the open road stretching into a gold-pink sunset.Each one wears a Kings of Anarchy cut—the symbol on the back identical to the ones they wear.
Cowboy walks up behind me and whistles.“Holy hell, that’s Candyman,” he says, pointing at the rider with long blond hair.
I grin.“You’re on there, too.”
“Damn, Brushes, you painted every single one of us.”
“Yeah,” I smile, proud of my work.
Cowboy calls the rest of the men in.They all seem to love it—which makes me feel even prouder.There’s a lot of laughter, and jokes about who looks better riding a bike.Griffin, however, is quiet.He’s standing behind them, his features tense, eyes fixed on me like he’s working something out in his head.
“Georgia,” he says finally, voice low but steady.“We need to talk.”
My stomach dips.He obviously doesn’t like it and the disappointment that hits me is painful.“Okay, honey.You want to go to our room?”We keep a room here—Nana kept hers too.We don’t really use them, but I make sure to keep them clean and clothes available—should the need ever arise.
Griffin shakes his head.“No.I want my brothers around me for this.”
That throws me.Every bit of warmth drains right out of me, replaced by nerves.He looks tense, too serious.Shit.I thought things were great.God …Is he breaking up with me?
“What is it?”I ask, trying to keep my panic at bay.
He takes a deep breath.“I asked you to be my old lady years ago.”
“Griff,” I say, laughing weakly.“It hasn’t been that long.We haven’t even known each other a year.Besides, I thought that’s what I was.”
“You are,” he says.“But this—” he gestures between us “—this deal doesn’t sit right with me.Things need to change.”
The air leaves my lungs.“Are you breaking up with me?”I ask, giving voice to my earlier thoughts and feeling sick to my stomach.
He glares, like what I just said is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.“Fuck no.I told you you’re mine for life, woman, and I meant it.”
Relief hits so hard my knees almost give.“Then, what are you talking about?”
He turns his head.“Hey Alex, you pick up that package for me?”Griffin asks, ignoring me for a minute.
“Yeah, Prez,” Alex says, grinning.Alex and Ollie were patched in a few weeks ago.They haven’t been given their club names yet, but that’s coming when we have a party to celebrate them.Oddly enough Alex and I have become pretty good friends.I watch as he goes behind the bar and pulls out a large white box.It’s the kind you’d wrap clothes in for Christmas but seems overly large.He hands it to Griffin, who hands it to me, with a tender look on his face.
“Open it, baby,” Griffin murmurs.
