I Like You a Latte {Completed}

51 | Hiding the Blush

Beverly locked herself in her room to escape Cynthia's cackles and horribly inappropriate jokes, and when she heard knocking at the door her first instinct was to groan and burrow herself into her bed.

But she refrained, both because she didn't want to wrinkle the nice dress she'd dug out from her wardrobe, and there was the slightest chance that Griffin was the one at the door. He had texted her earlier and said he would pick her up after he closed up the coffeehouse, before asking that she wear something nice.

Which was why Beverly was in one of the only dresses she owned, wearing a pair of heeled boots, dangling earrings, and light makeup. She was just glad that she hadn't told Alicia about her date; Lord knew what her friend would've tried to make her wear.

Stepping up to her bedroom door, Beverly whispered, "Griffin?"

His deep chuckle sounded through the wood, and Beverly felt her toes curl in her shoes. "Why are we whispering?" his voice was just as soft as hers.

"Because I don't want your godmother to find me and force me to listen to sexual innuendos before giving me the 'babies don't come from storks' talk again."

There was complete silence on the other side of the door, and Beverly grinned evilly. He deserved to share in the embarrassment at least a little, since he had left her with Cynthia all day.

After several beats, he cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Uh, wow. Would it make you feel better to know that she is fully occupied with a Hell's Kitchen marathon? She's too invested to even notice us leaving."

As if to support Griffin's point, there was a shout from downstairs: "Oh, my God! Does no one know how to cook scallops?!"

Grin still in place, Beverly unlocked the door and whipped it open; her original plan to smother herself against Griffin's chest was quickly forgotten when she took him in.

Her already attractive boyfriend had apparently decided to give her heart failure, if the snug button-up, dark jeans, and fancy leather shoes are any indication. His hair was pulled back as it normally was after he got off from work, but he took the time to ensure it was neat, without a strand out of place.

If that was not enough, he was standing in front of her door like a shy school-boy, with a bouquet of daisies in his hand and a hopeful smile on his lips.

"Damn," he whistled as he gave her a onceover, his eyes soft and adoring. "You're stunning, Beverly."

Beverly practically melted into a puddle. "I must admit," she mused carefully, one brow raised as she continued to inspect him, "that you are way out of my league."

Griffin laughed easily, stepping closer and slipping a hand against her lower back before bending down to kiss the corner of her mouth softly. "I think you meant that the other way around, but thank you anyway. Are you ready to go?" He slid his arm away, holding it out and eyeing her expectantly.

Hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she took the outstretched flowers and grinned up at him widely as he led her to the first floor of the house. He took her into the kitchen first, snatching a vase down for the flowers, pouring some water inside, and then setting on the counter and watching as she placed the flowers inside with the utmost care.

"I don't think they'll break, Beverly," he joked, chuckling when she shot him a playful glare.

"Hush, Griffin," she replied, showing one of the sadder-looking flowers special attention as she tried to stand it up. "They are from you, and so I will treasure them as they deserve." It was only after she finished fussing with the blooms that she realized Griffin had gone silent. Twisting to look at him, her whole body grew hot when she saw the look in his eyes; it was a look that screamed Holy shit I love you and you're amazing and Jesus, how did I ever get to deserve you? Or, something along those lines, anyway. Beverly could only suspect, but she herself had looked at Griffin in that way lots of times, though only when he wasn't paying attention.