Page 91 of The Check Down
I’m so lust-crazed that I don’t register the faint scuffs on the other side of the door until it’s too late. I’ve just lowered his zipper and am reaching into his boxers as the pantry door bursts open.
“Oh, shit!” Tucker curses before he spins away.
“Goddamn it, Tuck.” Griffin hauls me to my feet and crushes my body to his.
Though I want to bury myself in my boyfriend’s chest and never come out, I press my cheek to his pecs so I can see Tucker’s back. When his shoulders bounce in silent laughter, I blurt, “You promised to knock on the doors.”
He whips around, red-faced but grinning. “You expected me to knock on thepantrydoor?”
Shaw and theirparents choose this moment to come inside. They freeze when they notice the guilt marring all of our features.
“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Lacey looks from one son to the other, then at me.
“Tucker—” Griffin growls, pure threat.
The youngest Lacey relaxes against the counter and crosses his inked arms. “Just caught Brynn with her hand in the cookie jar.”
Under his breath, Griff mumbles “Fuck.”
Oblivious, Mrs. Lacey says, “She can have as many cookies as she wants.”
My skin blazes hotter than the sun, and I beg the universe for a rewind button. I can’t bear to peek at his parents, but I don’t miss Shaw’s smirk before I bury my face in Griffin’s chest again. Tucker’s low chuckles cease when his brother grabs a package from a shelf and pelts him with it.
“Ow, fucker. That hurt.”
Mr. Lacey says, “Language.”
And against the warmth of Griff’s soft hoodie, I mouth “Lacey family rules” as the three brothers chant it out loud.
Still in disbelief that a weekend of so many highs ended likethat, I sigh and fix my gaze on the road ahead. I can feel Griffin’s concern, but I’m still too caught up in my embarrassment to start a conversation.
He clears his throat. “What can I do to make this better?”
The soothing tone of his voice earns my attention. But when a corner of his mouth kicks up, I’m back to being irritable.
“Could you invent a time machine so we can travel back to before Idry humpedyour leg in your parents’ pantry?”
His lips twitch. “I mean, that is where thedrygoods are kept, so…”
Annoyance courses through my veins. “Not helping.”
“Got it.” He lifts a hand from the steering wheel and mimes lockinghis lips.
We’re silent for a couple of miles, but the burn in my throat becomes too much. “I’m sorry I’m being an inconsolable brat. I just really,reallywant your family to like me, and—”
“Brynn.” He cuts me off. “Hear me when I say this: they fuckingadoreyou.”
My heart pangs, and my voice comes out small and unsure. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Even if you owe their son and brother a blow job.”
“Ugh.” I smack him with the back of my hand, then cross my arms again.
Griffin’s charming, unbothered smile brightens. “I know what you need.”
He taps a few buttons on the dash touchscreen, and as the twangy intro to “Jackson” blares through the speakers, he bobs his head and shoulders to the beat. He warbles along with Johnny Cash, voice deep, making it impossible not to smile. Though I do my best to hide it.
“C’mon, you gotta sing June’s part.” He holds an invisible microphone in front of my mouth.