Christmas with My Ex’s Dad: An Age Gap Holiday Romance (Forbidden Silver Foxes)
Christmas with My Ex’s Dad: Chapter 8

Living with Griffin has been way easier than living with Elliot ever was.

In exchange for some cleaning and cooking, he lets me stay rent-free. Not that there’s much to clean anyway; he’s naturally tidy which is something I can appreciate especially since his son was the opposite.

I realize I feel surprisingly comfortable in this house. I’ve found a rhythm with Griffin—sharing small moments like conversations over dinner or teasing remarks about my cooking experiments.

The sound of the front door opening catches my attention, and I wipe my hands on a nearby towel before making my way to the living room.

“Hey, Griffin,” I call out as he enters the house. He carries a small, wrapped package, which piques my curiosity. He smirks, holding the gift out toward me.

“This? It’s for you.”

My eyebrow shoots up, and I glance down at the coffee mug I’ve abandoned on the couch. “For me? You do realize Christmas is still a week away, right?”

He leans casually against the doorframe, shrugging. “I saw it and thought of you. Figured you’d like it, so why wait?”

I hesitate, touched by the gesture. Taking the gift, I murmur softly, “You didn’t have to get me anything. I didn’t expect this.”

My fingers tremble as I carefully unwrap the gift, revealing a beautiful, high-quality sweater. The rich, soft fabric is my favorite color, and I can’t help but gasp in delight. Running my fingers over the material, I look up at Griffin with wide eyes.

“This is… wow. It’s gorgeous, Griffin. You really didn’t have to do this.” My voice is barely above a whisper, betraying my surprise and gratitude.

Griffin’s hazel eyes are warm as he smiles back at me. “Maybe you can wear it at ‘Euphoria.’ I hear sweaters are all the rage there.” His tone is teasing, and I can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’d make a ton of money bundled up in this. Very sexy.” I shake my head, still chuckling.

As I hold the sweater close to my chest, I can’t shake just how thoughtful this gesture is. He actually noticed my style. Elliot never even remembered my favorite color. This realization leaves a warmth in my chest that I can’t quite explain.

“Thank you, Griffin,” I say softly, my smile genuine. “This means more to me than you know.”

He nods, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. “You’re welcome, Faye. I’m glad I could make you happy.”

And it actually feels like he means it.

“Try it on,” he says, nodding towards the sweater. “Make sure it fits.”

I hesitate for a moment, weighing the intimacy of the situation, but then decide to do it right there. I pull my shirt off over my head, revealing a lace bra and smooth skin. Griffin freezes, his breath catching as his eyes sweep over my exposed body. For a moment, he’s stunned into silence.

As I pull the sweater over my head, I look up at him with an innocent smile. “What do you think?” I ask.

Griffin clears his throat, his voice tight. “You shouldn’t change in front of me like that,” he admonishes, though his gaze betrays more than just concern.

I frown, confused by his reaction. “Why not? It’s not like you didn’t already see everything at Euphoria,” I remind him, trying to lighten the mood.

The mention of the strip club makes Griffin’s expression harden. He steps back, his jaw tightening. “That’s not the same,” he says, his words carrying a weight I can’t quite decipher.

Before I can respond, he turns abruptly and walks into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound echoes through the house, leaving me standing there in my new sweater, my heart pounding and my thoughts a jumble of emotions.

What just happened?

“Did I do something wrong?” I wonder aloud, replaying the moment in my mind. He’s the one who told me to try it on. Glancing down at the sweater, I notice it fits perfectly, hugging my curves just right. A sigh escapes my lips, and I mutter, “Maybe I shouldn’t have joked about Euphoria.”

I can’t help but think about the way Griffin looked at me. There was something in his eyes—shock, yes, but also something else. Something I don’t want to name. Why does it bother me so much that he walked out? I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts.

I bite my lip, feeling conflicted. I don’t want tension between us, especially since he’s been nothing but kind to me since I moved in. I decide to go and apologize, hoping to clear the air and make things right.