Page 113 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“How long will it take?”

“Probably most of the day.”

As wonderful as a Saturday spent with Griff on the ranch sounded, I hadn’t spent enough time with Pops in the past two weeks. Or at my own home. Since the night of the impromptu sibling dinner here, I hadn’t gone to my house for anything but five minutes to grab the mail.

“I’d better skip this one. I need to go to the house and clean. It’s dusty and stale. Maybe build that TV stand that’s been sitting in the box.”

“Or . . .” Griffin set his fork down, twisting in his seat to face me. “You don’t build the TV stand.”

“My television is on the floor.”

“But that one isn’t.” He pointed over my shoulder to the flat screen mounted above the living room’s fireplace.

“At some point, I’m going to want to watch TV at home and not have to sit on the floor so it’s at eye level.”

“How many minutes have you watched TV at your place in the last month?”

“Zero.”

“Exactly.”

“But I already bought the stand. Why wouldn’t I build it?”

“Because you don’t need it.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Winslow.” My name, stated in a way that sounded like I was missing the point.

“Griffin.”

“You watch TV here. You sleep here. Your stuff’s all over the bathroom and your clothes are covering the closet floor.”

“I need to do laundry.”

“Yeah, and when you do that laundry, it’s going to be in the washer and dryer right down that hallway.” He nodded toward the laundry room.

“Do you not want me to use the washer and dryer?”

“No.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s yours. Just like the bathroom’s yours. The bedroom. The closet floor. This kitchen. That TV. This house is yours.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

He laughed again, fitting his wide palm to the nape of my neck. “Think it over. You want to keep your place in town for a while, that’s fine by me. You want to get it listed before summer’s over and the market has its seasonal dip, then we’ll get ahold of your realtor and bring the horse trailer to town to move everything out here.”

My jaw hit the floor as he slid off his stool, kissed my forehead and disappeared toward the bedroom, probably to find some socks so he could go on about his day.

Did he just ask me to move in? To live here? Actually, no. He hadn’t asked. There hadn’t been a single question mixed in with his string of brain-scrambling statements.

Did I want to move in? Yes. I loved this house. I loved the comfort that came with turning off the highway and onto his quiet gravel road. I loved sunsets on the porch and waking in Griffin’s arms.

But it was too soon, wasn’t it? I’d lived with Skyler for years. I’d just separated my life from another man’s. And I did love my little house in town.

That cute, charming little house with the red door that I’d neglected for weeks and weeks.

Griffin, his feet in socks, snuck up on me, still frozen on my stool.

I waved him off when he reached for our plates. “I’ll clean up.”