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There are large vents and fans as well, presumably to clear out the fumes from lacquer and other finishing products. Another large work table is in the center of the room, pieces of wood clamped together on it for a project. There’s a gorgeous bookshelf in the far corner next to a deep brown leather couch that looks comfy as hell, and a well-loved green recliner next to it. Andrew stands beside me, watching my reaction with intensity.
“I love it,” I say honestly. I squeeze his hand, and his brown eyes light up. He’s so proud of his shop, of his work, anyone can see that.
He pulls me further into the building, pointing out various items he’s working on, and their future purposes. He goes into great detail about the dining room table he custom made, having dropped it off only yesterday. Seeing him so passionate about what he does is adorable, and endearing.
We reach the back of the shop, where the couch is, and Andrew pulls me down onto it. I sink into the deep couch, letting myself rest on his side. His arm wraps around me, and I feel his lips press against the top of my hair.
“I’m sure my hair is still a mess,” I chuckle.
Andrew smirks, using his hand to try and tame it. “A bit, but knowing I’m the one that made a mess of it is making it that much sexier.”
I shove his chest playfully. “You said your grandpa taught you everything you know, right?”
“Yep,” Andrew starts. “I was probably five when I started spending full days here with him. Sure, I would hang out with him before, but there’s a lot of shit in here for a kid to get into, and they didn’t want me to get hurt. From then on, I was here every chance I could.”
Travis climbs up onto the couch next to me, snuggling into my side. I mindlessly pet him, and soon enough, he’s snoring softly.
Andrew continues, telling me how his brothers and dad never had the interest, or skill in continuing the family business, but he did. After his grandma passed shortly after he graduated high school, his grandpa started teaching him more of the ins and outs of the business, readying him to take over. His dad helps with the financials and logistics of it all, but otherwise, he's in charge. He inherited the house, as well as the shop. He told me about how his grandma passed. Gramps woke up one morning, and thought she was sleeping, but when he checked on her, she was already long gone. They later found out it was an aneurysm that had ruptured.
We talk for hours and hours on end. About his childhood, my childhood, likes, dislikes, you name it. The warm glow of the lamp is cozy, especially after Andrew turned off the overhead light. We’ve moved positions more than once, but now we’re settled.
Andrew lies on his back lengthwise on the couch, while I lay partially atop him, the other half of my body slid between his side and the back of the couch. Travis is at our feet, sleeping soundly.
“We should probably go inside. I can bring you home,” Andrew murmurs, his voice gravelly and low.
“Mhmm,” I mutter my agreement, but make no effort to move. My head is pressed against his chest, his warmth sinking deep into my body. His heart thumps steadily in my ear, and my eyes drift closed to the feel of his arms around me.
15
JOSIE
Aloud throat clearing startles me awake. I fly up into a sitting position, trying to get my bearings. “Wha-?” I mumble, rubbing my hands over my eyes. Below me, Andrew jolts, sitting up, wrapping his arms around me protectively.
He groans as his eyes adjust. He pulls me closer into him, and my eyes flutter open to see an older gentleman standing in front of us. His white-gray hair is combed over to the side, and if I knew it wasn’t a Sunday, I would have assumed he just came from church.
He’s wearing a pair of black slacks, paired with a button up striped long sleeve. His arms are crossed on his chest, and he has a look of disappointment, and also, satisfaction on his face.
“I’m going to give this one guess,” he says. His voice is low, gravely, and filled with mirth. “Cinderella?”
“Gramps, it is too early for this. What time is it anyway?” Andrew asks before I have a chance to react.
It makes perfect sense that this is his Grandpa, but I can’t believe that he knows about me. I mean, we had our first date yesterday. Has he really been talking about me since the wedding?
“It’s seven-thirty,” Gramps answers. “You’re usually up and at ‘em at six, but I can see you had a distraction.”
Andrew rubs his palm up and down his face. “Mhmm. Gramps, this is Josie, Josie, this is my grandpa, or Gramps, Earl Cunningham.”
I rise from my spot on Andrew’s lap. I offer him my right hand, and he shakes it, his hands rough and calloused, much like Andrew's. “Nice to meet you, Earl,” I say, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. I’m not scared of him, no, I’m just utterly and completely embarrassed. I am, however, feeling very grateful that I’m wearing clothes. They’re obviously Andrew’s, but still. Better than my birthday suit.
“Likewise, Cindy,” he says on a laugh, shaking my hand firmly.
Andrew stands, shifting himself to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around the curve of my waist. My cheeks heat at the easy show of affection in front of his family, but also, I feel pride in knowing he’s not afraid to show it.
They talk for a few minutes while Travis sits at our feet, patiently waiting, his fluffy golden tail sliding across the floor while it wags.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Earl says, stepping back. “I just thought I’d stop by on my way to group this morning, see how that date went, but as I can see, it went very well.”
My cheeks heat, and I worry that he thinks I’m some sort of hussy, but Earl catches my eye, giving me a sly wink. It eases my worries for the time being.
