Page 41 of Long Hard Road
She nodded. “Yes, yes. That will be necessary. My grandson will need a wife who can cook for him.”
“Gran, it’s not 1950 anymore. Men can cook for themselves.” Nate’s exasperation said that he’d had this conversation with her many times.
“I am aware, Nathaniel. I expect you to cook for her, too. It’s important for a couple to be equal partners in a marriage. The only reason your grandad never cooked was because his meals never turned out edible. He did the laundry instead.” She looked at me. “You may want to consider that arrangement. Working men tend to have terribly messy laundry.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I gave Mary a conspiratorial smile.
“I finished up your list, Gran. We’ll come back in a couple of weeks for that meal. Maybe you’ll even make your famous roast?” he suggested.
“For you… absolutely.” She walked us to the door and gave me a hug almost as fierce as the one she gave Nate. Her blue eyes were misty when she pulled back. “You made this old lady’s day with your visit. Anytime you want to bring your pretty girlfriend around, please do.”
“I will, Gran.” He kissed her cheek and then turned to me, holding out his hand. “Ready?”
I nodded. “Bye, Mary. It was so nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure was mine.” She smiled wide as she looked at our joined hands. “I’ll be seeing you real soon,” she said confidently.
I hoped she was right.
15
NATE
Madison had a lot of questions about Gran. I explained that she was my mom’s mom and that she’d been living alone since my grandfather died about five years ago. We’d tried to move her out to the ranch, but she had refused. She wanted to stay close to her friends and it would be hard for her to get out much if she was living on the ranch.
“We’ll drop our stuff off and then we need to get to the bar. I think it might be best if you hang out in the office tonight.”
“No way, Nate. I am not going to hide. The stalker isn’t going to do anything in front of everyone.” She turned to me with a breathtaking smile. “Besides, I’m too pretty to hide away. Think of all those tips we made last night.”
“Yeah, that low-cut shirt might’ve had something to do with that.”
“Hey! I am a damn good bartender. Those tips were because I make a mean martini.”
“If you say so.” It felt so natural to reach across the seat and take her hand. “Let’s put you in one of my flannels tonight and see what happens to the tips.”
“Fine, but it has to be the flannel you are wearing right now.”
I glanced down. “Why? Is it a slutty flannel?”
“No.” She laughed and squeezed my hand. “Because it will smell like you.”
“And that’s a good thing?” I asked doubtfully.
“It is to me.” She took her other hand and started stroking her fingers over the back of my hand. My dick started to harden instantly. When I shifted in my seat, Madison looked down and giggled. “Need some help with that?”
“Not unless you want me to drive us into a ditch.” There was no way I’d be keeping any awareness if she put her hand on me like that. “Let’s save it for the sofa, okay?”
“Tonight,” she whispered. “Please?”
“Angel, you don’t need to beg. We’re definitely spending some time on that sofa tonight.” I brought her hand up to my mouth and pressed my lips to the back of it. “But I’ve already got plans for us tonight.”
“Tell me.”
I shook my head. “You have to be patient, Madison.”
“Waiting twenty-four years isn’t patient enough?”
“You’ve waited that long, you can wait a few more hours,” I said with a laugh. “We don’t have to start working on those great-grand-babies right this second.”