He grinned. “Good.”
Gertrude made herself comfortable on the bed while Claire dug through their bags for toothbrushes and something to sleep in. Minutes later she and Graham stood beside each other in the tiny bathroom with a mustard yellow toilet, trying and failing not to smile at each other as they brushed their teeth.
When she turned to leave he tapped her on the ass and winked. “Be there in a minute, sweetcakes.”
She sat on that comment the entire time it took him to use the restroom and climb into bed beside her.
“Sweetcakes is a no-go.”
He straightened his arm and she went straight for the nook between his shoulder and chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “For the last time, what do you want to be called?”
“Claire.”
“Claire Bear?”
“Nope.”
“Honey?”
“If anyone gets that one it’s you, Honey Grahams.”
He groaned. “I didn’t think this through.”
“It’s better than the first one I thought of.”
“Let me guess. Graham Cracker?”
She put her finger to her nose.
“I’ll definitely take Honey Grahams over that. But...do men usually get pet names?”
“Hell if I know. I’ve never had a boyfriend who demanded I have one in the first place.”
He flicked her shoulder. “I’m not demanding. I just think it would be fun.”
“Or...annoying?”
His chest lifted and he released a heavy sigh. “Fine. We can forgo the pet names for the time being.”
“Thank you.”
He lightly traced his fingers up and down her arm, sending a shiver through her. “I bet you’re tired from the drive. We should go to sleep.”
Claire nuzzled closer and buried her nose in his neck, inhaling his delicious scent. “Mmmkay. But can we make out first? Just a little.”
He brushed his lips against her hair. “Sure. But I have to ask. Is it my fifth-place wrestling trophy or the photo montage of my good looks from first through twelfth grade turning you on?”
She shifted onto her stomach and propped herself on his chest, bringing her lips within an inch from his. “Actually, it’s the Batman figurines on the bookcase.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should have known.”
Then he tilted his chin and pulled her in for a searing kiss, giving her exactly what she wanted.
Claire woke up alone.
She must have been tired if he’d been able to get out of bed and thump out of here on his crutches without waking her. Digging around for her phone, she tapped the screen and saw it was half past nine.
Movement under the covers forced a squeak of surprise from her throat before she realized it was Gertrude. She regarded the dog’s tiny head peeking out from her cocoon.
“Graham left...and you stayed with me?”
Gertie put her head back down and closed her eyes.
Claire grinned, strangely pleased. As annoying as the little dog was, earning her allegiance was like a mark of honor.
She got out of bed and pulled on jeans and a white V-neck. Just as she was about to reach for the door it swung open.
“Finally.” Graham winked from the doorway.
“Excuse me,” she retorted in a low voice, “someone kept me up until one in the morning.”
“It was your idea.” He propped one shoulder on the frame, looking ridiculously sexy in faded shorts and a gray T-shirt.
Which was exactly why she’d let him keep her up till one in the morning.
She mumbled the worst excuse in the world as she knelt down to retrieve her bag of toiletries.
“I didn’t catch that,” he said, rotating with her as she slipped past him and into the hallway.
She glanced around to ensure her next words weren’t the first ones his parents heard from her mouth. The hallway was empty and muffled voices sounded in the kitchen, so she looked back at him accusingly. “Maybe I’d be able to stop if you weren’t so much fun to make out with.”
His smile caused a short circuit in her brain and all she could do was stare at his mouth. “Stop looking at me like that,” he ordered, “or my parents will wonder what happened to us.”
“I need to brush my teeth first, anyway,” she said, breaking out of her trance. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
As she closed the bathroom door she heard him call out, “There you are, Gertrude, you little traitor.”
The smile on her face quickly faded as nerves set in.
She was about to meet Graham’s parents.
They weren’t in a relationship, but it was still a big deal. No one from back home had met his parents. Not even Noah. Yes, he was restricted with his cast and wouldn’t have asked her to come otherwise, but still.
Something about being the one he brought into this part of his world felt significant.
Shit, she hoped they liked her.
She’d have to watch her mouth, probably.
After ensuring she looked presentable, she opened the door to find him waiting for her in the hallway, Gertrude sitting primly at his feet.
“What did they say about the cast and crutches?” she asked. He still hadn’t told them the extent of his injuries, but had said it was more important to see his mom than keep up the ruse. He’d thought it would be better to tell them in person, anyway, and show them he was in good spirits about it.
“My mom cried, then smacked me upside the head, and my dad called me an idiot.”
Claire let out a surprised laugh and nodded. “Well. Sounds like we’ll get along just fine.”
20
Claire fit in with his family like the puzzle piece that had gone missing, but turned up one day between the couch cushions.
His mom felt well enough to get out of bed that morning and had been in the kitchen with his dad when he finally brought Claire in. Though, he’d been happy to have that hour alone with them first for several reasons.
One, he knew they’d be pissed when they saw the cast. He hadn’t loved the idea of Claire witnessing his mother scold him like a ten-year-old boy.
Two, he wanted to remind them—his mother, especially—that Claire wasn’t his girlfriend and they needed to keep matchmaking attempts to a minimum. He was warming up to the idea, it was true...but he wanted to talk to Claire about it himself, if he ever figured out how, without his parents around.
And three, because once Claire came into the picture, she stole the show, just like he knew she would.
His parents loved her.
Asking for seconds of the pancakes and eggs his dad had made was all it took for Claire to skyrocket to the top of his list.
Then she happened to mention something about Schitt’s Creek, which apparently his mom had started this past week while in bed, and they didn’t take a breath for like an hour.
Graham and his dad had just sat there quietly, drinking coffee and reading the paper, content to listen to them chat.
When his mom excused herself for a nap, Claire said she’d noticed a missed call from her mom, though Graham got the feeling she was trying to give him and his dad some alone time.
He’d always loved sitting with his dad. He was easy to talk to—straightforward and interesting, and few topics were off-limits. Every time Graham hung out with him, he learned something new about his dad’s childhood or some outrageous story from his early twenties. They never got old and he hoped his dad never ran out of stories to tell.
Today, though, wasn’t one for stories. They mostly talked about his mom and how she’d been doing. This relapse was worse than the last one, though she’d been doing well for a long stretch beforehand. Graham hated the unpredictability of MS, and how she could be fine one day and had difficulty seeing or speaking the next. She’d started a new drug last year which had improved things considerably, and she relapsed less often, but still. It sucked.
He’d do anything to take it away from her.
His dad tried to thank him for the money he sent and Graham quickly cut him off, cheeks filling with heat. His parents had done nothing but do their best by him and he owed them nothing less than the same in return.
“We’d rather have you than your money, though,” his dad said quietly.
He sighed. “Don’t try to guilt me. You know why I don’t want to live here.”