I’m picking out steaks as big as my head when a shopping cart bangs into mine, shoving it against my hip.
I turn to apologize for being in someone’s way, but the sparkling eyes on the old woman’s face make me grin.
“Hey there, handsome!” Granny Coffey belts out, overcaffeinated as ever.
“Hey yourself, Granny,” I reply.
She’s a charming old gal, the kind who stands in like a grandmother for half the town, and the sort who acts likes she’s eighteen instead of—hell if I know.
It’s mighty hard guessing her age when she’s so youthful and still able to run circles around men as young as Weston.
The green-and-pink flower in her wily grey hair matches the bright-pink of her shirt and lime-green pants. It flutters as she strolls around her cart and steps up next to me.
One thing you find out fast about Granny Coffey is that personal space doesn’t exist for her.
The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder, and she tips her head back to continue gracing me with those ever-twinkling eyes.
“So? How’s it going with Linda taking care of your girls?” she whispers conspiratorially.
Dammit.
Five seconds in and I’m already boned.
I appreciate her discretion, though I’m not pumped at having to think about the woman who could’ve taken Willow’s place as temporary nanny.
“It’s not going. I politely declined the offer,” I say, just as quietly.
“Whaaat? You selfish rascal, don’t you know she’s over the moon with you and easy pickings?” She doesn’t even try to hide her smile as she pats my arm with a soft slap. “I mean, yeah, Linda could use a little more discretion in her pursuits, but here’s my concern: who’s helping you with the girls?”
“I’m staying home with them as much as possible this summer. Weston picked up a few extra shifts at the bar.”
“The whole summer?” Her eyes light up. “Grady, dear, you’ve worked so hard on that bar! And that’s exactly why Faye went on a wild goose chase looking for just the right help while she went off to care for poor Gennie. She’s not doing so hot, you know.”
“I’m aware, I talked to Faye. Sad as hell,” I say, ignoring the rest of her statement.
I also know not to breathe a word about the nanny I have found, or else I’ll probably get Granny showing up on my doorstep, scheming to play matchmaker. She rekindled the childhood crush Faulk had on her granddaughter in no time not so long ago.
“She’s such an angel for being there with Gennie in her last days. The poor thing doesn’t have a big family. We all went to school together, you know,” Granny says with a sigh, her eyes somewhere far off.
“I heard,” I tell her with a smile. “When was that, ten years ago?”
She slowly turns, catches it, and winks at me like the sun going out.
“Oh, you wicked rake of a man! It was over fifty years ago, and you know it, but...I won’t turn down your gracious compliment. Just wish you’d save some of that for the younger ladies.” Again, she winks.
Where’s that hole in the ground when I need it?
“What you need is a good woman in your life, Grady McKnight. Haven’t you noticed all your bachelor buddies dropping like drunk flies lately? Drake, Ridge, Faulk—all married off now!” She gushes, clasping her hands in front of her. “And you know how crazy the weddings around these parts can get. Remember what happened with Owl and Hellboy when Quinn and Tory tied the knot?”
“How could anybody forget?” I chuckle. “Only you Coffey girls get to have your weddings crashed with a keyed-up goat and a bull of a dog giving chase.”
I’m not exaggerating.
The legendary insanity of that wedding, plus the fact that it even happened, still has Granny tickled pink.
“Seeee?” she whispers, elbowing me gently. “You had fun. I’m telling you, son, we’d all have a lot more if you’d just give some little local girl a chance. Or if you don’t like the pickings around here, I hear a nice, tall drink of bourbon like yourself can find a mail-order beauty queen at the click of a mouse! Why, my friend Mary Mauffet said last week that her son—”
“Granny. Thanks, but no thanks. I already have two wonderful girls in my life,” I tell her, trying to ease out of this gently.
“Don’t I know it!” She presses a hand to her chest as her eyelashes flutter. “Sawyer and Avery are dolls, you lunk, which is why you ought to share them with some lucky lady in your life. Say, why don’t you bring them to stay with me for a day or two this summer? Or I could come out to your place.”
Worry rises up inside me. Having this whirlwind dropping in on my head is the last thing I need with Willow and Bruce laying low at my place.
“Been a little busy on the home front lately—got Hank helping me with a few projects, but thanks. We’re fine, Granny, and I’ll let you know when things settle down for a visit. Maybe once Aunt Faye gets back.”
She frowns slightly. “You sure? You’re acting a little funny, mister. Do you have someone else at your place? A guest? A woman?”
Unfortunately, yes, and she drives me fucking batty.
Plus, there’s that whole frustrating stolen tiger thing.
I almost consider cracking and telling Granny because she’d get the hoot of her life out of it. Only, this definitely isn’t the time or place.
“Nah, just trying to make it through summer and this heat,” I say, wiping my brow for emphasis. “It’s also been a while since I’ve taken some real time off and I’m enjoying it.”
“Amen to that! I think I’m gonna take an ice bath if we don’t get a break soon.” She gives my arm a restless squeeze. “Well, if you change your mind, you have my number. I’d better get my groceries and go home. Andrew says we could have our first hundred-degree day of the year. It’s a little early for that, but I do like him, don’t you? Channel Six Andrew? He’s the best weather man they’ve ever had, even when he forgets to comb his hair some mornings.”
I bark out a laugh. Andrew the Weather Man has become an idol for women of all ages around these parts.
The kid’s in his early twenties with a slick tongue. He’s good-looking enough to catch a lot of eyes and spikes his hair with gel. Sawyer and Avery have pointed that out more than once.
No complaints here. Let him fight his admirers off with a stick. Fewer ladies who’ll come gunning for me.
“Already hot as blazes out there,” I say with a groan.
“Oh, I know! I rode my bike in.” She blows me a kiss while grabbing her cart and scurrying off.
I have to chuckle, even if I’m a little worried about heat stroke at her age.
Her tandem bike’s built for two. She’d bought it when Tory, her granddaughter and now Faulk’s wife, first came to stay with her last year so the girl could work her injured knee.
Ever since Faulk and Tory shacked up, Granny keeps riding that big-ass bike all over town whenever weather permits. With her flowered, pointy bike helmet, she’s a pint-sized riot, always pedaling fast enough to keep up with traffic.
Back to meat shopping and some peace—hopefully—I add some ribs and hamburgers to the pile of steaks. If we’re in for this damn heatwave continuing till kingdom come, I’m gonna grill my way through it after sunset.