Page 36 of Hogging the Hunk
“You don’t mind seasoned people, eh?” The microwave beeped and Granny helped herself to a sip of my hot cider while I was distracted by putting the cider jug back in the fridge.
I had the distinct feeling she was going to spin my answer into something I didn’t intend. The way the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end had to be akin to the instinct animals had that helped them avoid an ambush.
Unable to figure Granny. out, I shrugged. “I put up with you.”
“I wouldn’t identify as older.”
My brow furrowed. I couldn’t keep up with her logic. “What are you then?”
“I’m ancient.”
“You said it,” Maren muttered.
Granny ignored Maren’s slight and continued with me. “When I referred to someone with experience, I was thinking about people closer to your age. Say, Dr. Fox?”
Yep. There it is.
Taking my mug with me, I retreated to the living room where I fully intended on rolling myself into a blanket burrito and watching something suspenseful. Not anything that would make me lose sleep, like a horror movie would. A couple of startled jumps and some heart racing would be acceptable.
Answering as I passed Granny, I hoisted my mug like I was cheers-ing her in a quaint, English pub. “Milo’s a great guy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couch and a TV remote calling my name.”
“You sure you don’t want to help me milk the goats?” Maren shook the dripping water from a pail into the sink. “Rumor has it you were almost as fast as me while Parker and I were away.”
“Only because Milo was helping her,” Granny pointed out. “Otherwise, she’d probably still be out in the barn, trying to figure out what end of the goat to attach the milker.”
“Hey!” I protested. “It might have been a while. So what? It eventually came back to me, and I figured out what I was doing.”
Granny laughed. She loved to get me riled up. Well, she’d had her show, and I was over it. The week had been long enough, and I needed a break. From all of it. No more thinking or wondering or pondering—especially about Milo—allowed.
“Perhaps another time, Maren. Today, I’m going to pass.” Nestling into the corner of the couch, I relished the cushions with a sigh. With my mug to my lips, I paused. “Wait. Where’s Parker tonight? He usually helps you.”
“Guys’ night. I think they’re playing poker at Clint’s.” Maren slipped on her coat and grabbed her supplies.
Despite my ban on Milo, I wondered if he was there, too. Clint had been our neighbor as long as I could remember, and since moving back to Button Blossom, for not completely unsimilar reasons as mine, he’d bonded with a lot of men in the community. Even though one by one, the bachelors had succumbed to love and marriage, their friendships remained tight.
I wanted to kick myself in exasperation. Love? Marriage? Milo? It doesn’t matter if Milo is there or not. He’s off-limits for so many reasons.
“Parker promised he wouldn’t stay out too late.” A devious smile overtook Maren. “Even if he does, I’ll wake him up at four-thirty tomorrow morning. He said he’d help me at the farmer’s market, and I’ll hold him to his word, no matter how much he protests.”
“Speaking of being out past curfew, I’m taking off.” Granny donned a puffy blue coat that matched her sequined purse. Where she found places to shop that fulfilled her bold and obtuse sense of style, I had no idea. “The ladies are waiting for me.”
“Ladies?” Maren and I asked in unison.
Granny strolled to the front door. “My book club.”
“Book club?” I snorted. “Why do you insist on calling it a book club when there’s no reading involved? The only thing I ever see your nose in are gossip or fashion magazines.”
“Yeah,” Maren teamed up with me. “What book did you read?”
Swiping her hand at us, Granny didn’t falter. “I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need to answer to you little lambs. Don’t wait up for me.”
Her cackling laugh was cut short by the slam of the front door. Shaking my head at Granny, I slouched into the sofa and flipped on the television. Flicking through the curated selection of thrillers, I had barely chosen one about a woman on the run from the law, trying to prove she didn’t kill her husband, when there was a knock at the door.
Looking to Maren, she read the question on my face, wondering if she was expecting someone. She shook her head. “It’s probably Granny. What do you want to bet she forgot her keys, and she’s locked out?”
“I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.”