Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“Don’t ya love having a hero around? I like that man more and more.” She winks at me. “If you don’t hurry it up, I might consider tossing in a bid to go after the most eligible bachelor in Dallas myself.”
My jaw drops because this is one of those times when it’s hard to tell if she’s joking.
Ouch.
A flash of lights in the driveway draws my eye back to the window. “He’s here. Do you want to tell him you’re that hard up for a date, or should I?”
With a wicked smile, she tugs at her apron, so the words are clearly visible while she walks to the front door. “I will.”
No way. She can’t be serious.
I scuttle in front of her. “Please don’t.”
She just laughs and skirts around me to open the door.
“Hello, handsome!”
“Granny. Lovely as always,” he says, walking inside. Once he reaches the door, he leans forward and smiles. “Nice apron. Kind of you to give every bachelor in town a reminder.”
“If someone ever invites you to the house for dinner, I’ll loan her the apron,” she says, stepping aside and glancing at me.
Quinn laughs and gives Owl a greeting pat on the head while looking at me with his emerald eyes twinkling.
“Ready for some grub?”
I smile, rubbing a temple, knowing no matter what I say, it’ll be twisted by Granny. So we’d better get out of here ASAP.
“I just need to grab my purse from the kitchen,” I say. “Hang on.”
As I enter the hall, I hear Granny telling Quinn about her going next door, and hurry for the kitchen, hoping like hell she keeps the conversation strictly platonic until I can get back.
If I’m really lucky, she won’t embarrass me to death again.
“Well, as you know, I’m not like most grannies,” she says as I reenter the living room.
“No, Granny, you most certainly ain’t,” Quinn agrees, concealing a smile as he scratches his chin.
I step between the two of them. “Ready.”
He laughs, winks at Granny, and then swaggers aside for me to walk out of the door before him.
“I won’t wait up!” Granny shouts. “And I’m a deep, deep sleeper!”
When does the torture end?
I close my eyes, resisting the urge to drag my face right off with my hand. No need to dwell on her playing matchmaker so the first minute of our little outing feels brutally awkward.
“Good thing you have Owl here,” Quinn says to Granny, blissfully oblivious to her hints.
I hope.
Granny laughs her butt off as she closes the door, and I hold in another groan.
I love her to pieces, but she truly is a piece of work.
“Looking good, Peach,” he says, casting that wild green gaze across me. “Hell of a good summer style.”
“Y-you too,” I say shyly.
Pathetic, I know.
Of course he looks extremely sinful.
He’s changed into a white shirt that enhances just how tanned he is, and the pearl snaps make me imagine watching him remove it with those big rough hands.
Damn you, Granny. She’s succeeded at putting horrid thoughts in my head with her idiotic 'nighttime nibble.'
“Because it’s you, I’m gonna admit it’s the only clean shirt I had left in my closet,” he says with a grin.
I climb in the passenger side of his big blue truck and wait until he’s in the driver’s seat before asking, “Don’t like doing laundry?”
“Can’t do laundry. Not by anything but hand or a trip to the laundromat. I haven’t installed the new washer yet. That’s up next tomorrow. Old one conked out on me a couple months ago.”
“A likely excuse.” I flick my tongue out at him.
Again, he gives me that addictive chuckle while putting the truck in reverse. “The washer’s been there for a week. No denying it.”
“Why didn’t you just have the delivery guy install it?”
“Because I’m the delivery guy, Peach.”
Curious, I ask, “What made you stick around and fix up your grandpa’s place, anyway? Seems like that’s something you could hire out and wrap up fast.”
“It was time for a rest, and there’s no place like little old Dallas. Go back to my roots and forget the OKC for a while, y’know?”
Yeah.
I also know he’s gone stiff as a board. I sense it as well as see it.
Well, at least I’m not alone.
I have enough tension brewing with Granny’s cursed thoughts.
But I just want this evening to be nice, casual, and uneventful, so I nod.
“Cool beans.”
He glances at me and grins. “You still say that? How many more Tory-isms have you kept up?”
I laugh, feeling the tension seeping out of him, and I’m glad.
“Stick around long enough and maybe you’ll learn some new ones. You already heard 'son of a biscuit eater.'”
“Have you drunk any of your granny’s strawberry rhubarb wine?”
I blink in confusion. “What wine?”
“She told me she was taking some to the neighbors, and her famous wine was the reason they’d invited her over.”