“Okay,” his father said. “We leave in ten minutes.”
His grandmother lived in the older part of town, in a house that had been built to last in the mid 1800s. Set on nearly half an acre, the all-brick two-story sported a large wraparound porch and two turrets, original hardwood throughout, nine-foot ceilings, and the kind of old world charm that was hard to replicate. There were stained-glass windows, hidden alcoves, and a separate stairwell from the kitchen to the upper level. As a kid, Nate had loved coming here. He and his older brother, Beck, played hide and seek for hours on end. And the attic was a kid’s dream; huge and filled with all kinds of treasure.
Nate and his father parked beside a shiny black SUV. While his dad headed around the side of the house to the backyard, Nate walked up the flagstone path and smiled when he spied his grandmother standing on the porch. Dressed in an old pair of jeans, pink frilly shirt, with her long silver hair pulled back in a ponytail, the woman looked at least ten years younger than her age. He walked into her open arms, pulling her close for a hug.
“I heard you were home,” Hazel Jacobs said as she stepped back, giving him a wink that immediately had his attention.
“Let me guess. You’ve already talked to Mom.”
She nodded. “I did. Went down to the coffee shop this morning because I ran out of those pod thingies. Gosh, I hate those things. I need to get myself a regular old coffee maker. You know the ones that percolate? Anyway, I ran into your mother as she was standing in line. Marlene Baker was just two folks ahead of her and told her—”
Nate held up his hand and laughed. “Yeah, I know what Marlene Baker told her. I don’t need the play-by-play.” He smiled down at his grandmother. “Just so you know, Gran, Chess’s not a thing.”
“I know that,” she replied with a smile, linking her arm through his as they headed down the steps to follow his father out back. “But I am curious.”
“About what?”
“About the kind of woman who’ll snag your interest long enough to become a thing. You and your brother are not getting any younger, and I’m no closer to holding my great-grandbabies. Don’t they have any decent women in that big city you live in?”
He hid a smile because she was so damn earnest.
There’d been a few close calls. Michaela, a hot-as-hell lingerie model, had practically moved into his loft. But after a few months of living with his travel schedule, which at the time had been extensive, she’d bailed. Said she needed a man to be there for her at about the same time he realized he didn’t want to change or be that man.
Then there’d been Rachel, the cute bartender at the Irish pub he frequented. They’d been exclusive for almost six months, but when she started talking about babies, he realized they weren’t on the same page. They crashed and burned, and he decided being single was better than hurting someone he cared about. Nate embraced the single life, and he liked the no-commitment thing. He was a busy guy, and it worked for him.
He supposed things would change eventually—they had for Stu and Zach. But those guys knew what they wanted. Hell, just last night, Zach told him that pretty much everything about Jessica drove him bonkers, particularly her love of pink and the fact she put hot sauce on every single thing she ate, but he was crazy about her. And he couldn’t wait for her to wear his ring.
“Are you going to answer my question or not, Nathan Samuel Jacobs?”
He outright laughed because Gran only pulled out the full Christian name when she meant business. “I’ll let you know when I meet her.”
“So that’s the problem. You just haven’t met her yet.”
He kept things light but was so ready to move on from the conversation. “That’s the problem, Gran.”
They finally rounded the house and made their way over to his dad, who stood next to a pile of lumber, holding a piece of paper with what looked like some kind of design on it.
“What’s the plan?” Nate asked, trying to figure out what it was exactly they were doing here. His dad hadn’t elaborated and he hadn’t asked.
“Your father is building a house.”
“A house?” Nate asked, looking from his Gran to his father. “For what?”
Just then, the screen door from the kitchen banged open, and he turned around. A woman stood there, cradling a wriggling bundle of fur in her arms. She was speaking to Kyle Langley of all people, and Nate wondered what the hell he was doing in his grandmother’s house. Molly seemed unaware she had an audience, and when Kyle bent his head close to hers she laughed. He leaned in even closer and whispered something that made her laugh again.
It annoyed the hell out of Nate, and he tensed and took a step forward. What was she doing with him? Why was she standing so close to him? It almost looked like they were together.
Her hair was in a messy knot at the back of her head, though a fair bit of it curled around her neck. For a second, he fixated on the piece that swept up to the corner of her mouth. She was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of old jean shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs. Her skin glistened in the dappled sunlight as she made her way down the steps from the deck, and Nate could never remember seeing so much of them before. The Molly he knew wore basketball shorts, or at least ones that were at least a couple of inches past her ass.
And it wasn’t just the clothes. She looked different somehow. Nate couldn’t figure it out.
Kyle spotted Nate at about the same time Molly did. He poked her in the side, and her smile slowly faded. What the hell? Since when was he the bad guy? What the hell had he done to her? He took a step forward, his intention to ask that very question, when his grandmother spoke.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Dark hair. Creamy skin. Stormy eyes. Those long, long legs. “Yeah,” he replied slowly, kind of stunned at where his thoughts had gone.
A tug on his arm drew his gaze from Molly, and he stared down into the bemused face of his grandmother. She looked at him for a good long while. Long enough for Nate to feel the weight of Molly’s gaze and the curiosity of his father’s.