His expression softens. “That’s cool. I love my mom to death, and I wished I lived closer to her.”
Damn it.
“Here’s another suggestion,” he continues. “How about you let your mom feed Aaron tonight, and I’ll take you out to dinner.”
Okay, perhaps what he’d offered before wasn’t actually a date, but this most certainly would be.
“Um… well,” I stammer. “It’s um… spaghetti night. My mom’s gone to a lot of work, and it’s my favorite.”
He hesitates before giving a slight nod of understanding. “I can see that would be important. And you don’t know me well enough to invite me to your house for a home-cooked meal, so how about you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night?”
Gah… why does he have to be so charming on top of fantastically gorgeous? “Um… you see… the problem with that is—”
“Hey,” Aaron exclaims as he comes barreling toward us. My face burns with the knowledge we’ve been soundly ignoring him. “Are you going to throw the ball again?”
Griffin smiles at my kid, sticking his hand out to shake. “I’m Griffin, by the way. You’ve got some natural talent, kid.”
“Thanks,” Aaron replies with a deep blush. He shakes Griffin’s hand like a man, and I realize my kid just grew up a little on me.
I use this moment to make our break. “Honey… you need to thank Griffin—”
“It’s Griff, actually,” he butts in. “My friends all call me Griff.”
I ignore the pointed remark, which says he very much wants to be my friend, but I’m betting in ways that aren’t rooted in friendship. I hate it makes butterflies zoom in my belly.
Inclining my head in acknowledgment, I turn my attention to Aaron. “Thank Griff for helping you out, but we really need to head home. Grandma will be expecting us soon for dinner.”
“Thanks, Griff,” Aaron says with a big grin. “That was awesome.”
“Be glad to help you anytime, kid.”
“Tomorrow?” Aaron blurts out.
“No… wait,” I exclaim, realizing if I don’t shut this down, this man will stay in our life. I truly don’t want that.
“Sure,” Griff replies, sliding a well-intentioned smirk my way. “How about ten AM? Your mom can sit her pretty butt on that bench over there and read a book. I’ll toss the ball around with you for a while.”
Oh no, you don’t buddy. I’m not about to have you force me into something I don’t want.
“Grandma can bring you since I have to work,” I tell Aaron, which isn’t true, but I’m not going to let Griff one-up me. Shooting a simpering smile at Griff, I say, “I’m sure you two will have a great time without me, and my mom loves to watch Aaron play.”
Challenge flashes in Griff’s eyes, and my belly gets the butterfly zoomies again.
Griff leans slightly toward my son. “I know your mom is probably not going to like this, because she’s doing her best to resist me, but I happen to have three tickets to the Steelers game on Sunday afternoon. Would you and your mom like to come with me?”
My eyes widen at his audacity, even as I vaguely hear Aaron hooting and hollering over this offer, jumping up and down like a mad man with excitement. Griff gives me a triumphant look.
“That was low,” I hiss, but I can’t hold back the tiny smile threatening to break free. That was well played, and I could never deny my son the opportunity to see a professional football game. He hasn’t been to one before, and he’s adopted the Steelers as his favorite team now that we’ve moved here permanently.
“We’ll meet you at the stadium,” I say, cutting off any attempt he might make to try to pick us up.
“Fair enough,” Griff says, then tosses the ball to Aaron. Giving him a soft clap on his shoulder, Griff bends to look him in the eye. “You did really great today. I’ll show you some new stuff tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah,” Aaron blurts out, his eyes sparkling with glee. “That would be great, Griff.”
Griff gives him one last smile before shooting me a wink. “See you Sunday, Bebe.”
I glare at him. Inside, though, I might admit to smiling a tiny bit.CHAPTER 4GriffinAttending a professional football game at Heinz Field is definitely an experience I won’t regret. I’m a Bills’ fan myself, but I’ve always had great respect for the Steelers. While the game has been great, it’s been even better watching a ten-year-old who can’t contain his excitement. Aaron repetitively jumps up and down in his seat, once prompting someone a few rows back to yell for him to sit down. I turned in that general direction, eyes scanning for the fuckwad who would steal a little kid’s joy and leveled a murderous glare around at the people. No one said another word after that.
The clock ticks down the last few seconds of the half, and a horn blares to call the end of the play. I reach into my wallet, pull out forty bucks, and hand it to Aaron, who is sitting in between Bebe and me. “Go grab us some food and drinks, kid.”