I fire off a text calling him creeptastic. “What?” I look up at Mr. Higgins.
“Invite them for burgers,” he says again. That’s what I thought he said. I’m just a little shocked that he wants me to invite people to eat with us. Especially because there’s a man involved. The very thing he’s always warning me about.
“I can’t now. I just called him creeptastic.” I show him my phone.
“You really have been hanging out with me too much.”
I nod in agreement as my phone buzzes again in my hand. My heart does a little flutter at his response.
Chapter Five
Nick
Are you calling my gran creepy?
I hold up my phone and show Gran the girl’s response. “She said you were creeptastic.”
“What in the blue hell is creep-tastic and I’m pretty sure she’s talking about you, child, not me. I ain’t the one running around stealing a girl’s necessities.”
“It was an accident and now I’m returning them. See what a good boy you’ve raised.” I pat my chest before reading the reply on my phone.
You, you’re the creepy one. Not your gran. She’s adorable.
“She thinks you’re adorable.”
Gran turns her nose up. “She probably wants your money.”
“She doesn’t even know who I am.” Which is half the joy of being here in this small town. For once, I’m not Nick Hall of Hall International, one of the biggest construction companies in the world, heir to a billion dollar fortune. I’m just some schmuck who buys Red Bull and raspberries and tampons for his gran.
“Still…” Gran reaches for the phone. “She says I’m adorable, huh? I guess she can’t be all bad.”
Gran thinks any woman that sniffs in my direction wants access to my bank account. I’ve had a few negative experiences which turned me off of dating, but that’s good because I met the one and that’s all that matters.
Gran says I can’t continue talking to you unless you tell me your name.
I don’t even think that’s your grandmother. You probably rented her for the sole purpose of making me feel safe. I’m not telling a potential serial killer my name. You already have my number.
I put the phone down. “Gran, do I look like a serial killer?”
She studies me–she actually takes the time to run her eyes over my face, move her mouth from side to side in an indecisive manner, and then squint as if she spotted some evidence on my upper left cheek. I make up my mind with quickness. “You’re going to have to vouch for me now.” I press the dial button and hand my grandmother the phone.
She takes it, but not before she clucks her tongue in a dramatic fashion. I give her a cheeky grin which she can’t help but return. Then her face grows serious and she straightens, plastering a stern expression across her face. “Now listen here, Miss, my grandson is no serial killer. He’s charming, lovely and has a–”
I snatch the phone back because Gran’s a salty old broad and I don’t know what she was going to say, but I wasn’t going to risk it. “There you have it. From my gran’s mouth. You’re going to have to come over to our house for dinner to make it up to her.”
“Make it up to her? What are you even talking about? I didn’t even say a word other than ‘Hello,’” the cutie yelps in my ear.
“You called her grandson a serial killer and there aren’t much worse insults. We have dinner at five. Gran likes to watch Wheel of Fortune and that starts at six so don’t be late. We’re having”–I pull the phone away from my ear–”what are you feeling like tonight?”
Gran’s grin is so wide I’m a little concerned. “Let’s make it easy. Stuffed ricotta shells with alfredo and pecorino sauce.” She pushes to her feet.
“Ah, text me any health concerns but we’re having cheese and shells tonight. See you later.” I hang up before she can refuse. One thing I’ve learned in my short life is that you just don’t allow people to say no. If they don’t say it, ultimately, they’ll feel compelled to do it.
I toss the phone onto the coffee table and grab Gran’s arm, steadying her as we make our way across the living room and into the kitchen. “Sit down and tell me what to do.”
“You’ve never made this before,” she protests, trying to get up and join me.
I wave my hand at her. “I never bought groceries before, either, yet look at how well I did.”
“You stole some girl’s tampons,” Gran points out.
“There’s nothing wrong with coming home with too many things. It’s only a problem when you forget things and I didn’t forget one item.” I open the cupboard and pull out a box of large pasta shells. “And, bonus, Gran, I can read.” I shake the box next to my ear. “These say shells. I know what cheese looks like.”