Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Gran! I wasn’t expecting you today.” I hide my surprise with a big smile.
She gives me a weird look, which—fine, I deserve. It’s not like her popping in is a rare occurrence.
If anything, it’s a weekly event. We only live a few houses apart, and she loves dropping by.
Mostly to gossip, the shameless old bird.
But I love her.
And I love the plate she pushes at me before she says a word, which smells like heaven. “I brought banana bread for breakfast. And flowers.”
I eye the bunch of flowers she’s handing over, obviously from her garden. They smell just as good as the bread.
I accept them with my brain ticking, trying to think of a way out of this. Brady is still in my room, dead to the world.
Maybe I can make it quick and usher her out before he wakes up.
Then again, it’s a risky game to ever push Gran out quickly.
But I can’t turn her away, or she’ll definitely suspect something’s up.
It’s a Sunday morning, not a day where I typically need to rush out for work—with the clinic closed.
“Get in here before you drown out there,” I say, making a point of yawning as I open the door wider to let her in.
It’s still raining steadily outside.
Brady’s shoes are still by the door, and I pick them up the second she’s turned her back, stuffing them under a cushion.
“Hmm? I suppose so. Time moves different when you’re old.”
“You’re only old in body, Gran! Not spirit.” I set her offerings on my small table, then grab a couple plates and a knife as she settles in without being asked. “Coffee?”
“I’m down to two cups a day, and I already had ’em. Anything more gives me rabbit shits.”
“Gran!”
“Like you said, old in body. I’ll have some tea if you’ve got it.” She cackles as she unwraps her latest baked masterpiece.
“Sure.” I put the kettle on the stove and bring out the French press for myself. Haven’t splashed money on a fancy coffee maker yet—not like Brady’s espresso machine—but I still like my coffee good.
Only the finest Hawaiian-grown brew from Wired Cup in this house—a local coffee chain with a lot of drama a few years back. I’m not sure why Seattle draws eccentric billionaires like magnets.
I only add a splash of cream and sugar too. Nothing like Dr. Ezzie, who drinks hers instant and bulletproof style, so thick with butter and cream the teaspoon practically stands up in the cup.
“Thanks for the goodies,” I say as I find a vase in my cabinet for the flowers. “Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me for a date.”
She gives me a scorned look. “Young lady, if the only folks who ever give you flowers are trying to jump your bones, you’re—” Her face splits into a grin. “Well, you’re still young, that’s what I say.”
I wince.
The last thing you need from your adopted grandmother is a lecture on bone jumping.
“I meant to say—” I stop. I have no idea what I meant, and I don’t have time to figure it out, because that’s the exact second Brady walks out of my room, yawning like a cave bear waking up.
Of course, he’s shirtless and magnificent. Washboard abs on full display, jeans slung low on his hips as he runs a sleepy hand through his hair.
Yep, I’m doomed.
There’s no way I’m explaining this away now.
That doesn’t stop me from trying.
“Gran, this is my friend Brady,” I say hastily. “He, um . . . he stopped by last night for a chat.”
I suck at this so hard.
Brady’s eyebrows fly up, and the corner of his mouth twitches as he sees I’m not alone.
If he could stop being so amused, that would be awesome.
“Brady?” Gran’s eyes narrow like a hawk, and she pulls out the seat beside her. “Well, don’t just stand there, boy. Put some clothes on and join us for breakfast. Lena was just getting started.”
He gives a lazy grin and winks at me—winks!—and then strolls back into the bedroom to find his shirt, still tugging it over his head as he returns.
“Mm, coffee smells good. Thanks, Sass,” he says as he drops into the chair.
Gran gives me a look. The awkward grin plastered on my face might break it.
When she looks away, I fire Brady an evil eye as I work on steeping Gran’s tea.
He just grins right back at me again like it’s all a huge joke.
Cocky prick.
“So, you’re the man who’s warming my Lena’s bed?”
“Gran, no.” I choke on my own spit.
“That’s fine and all, I’m no prude, but if you’re looking for one naughty night, you can pack up right now. She’s a good girl,” she tells him magnanimously.
Holy hell.
I want to sink through the floor to India.
“No one-night hookups here.” Brady seems to turn his brain on—thank God—but there’s no way we’re bluffing our way out of this one.