He followed me again.
“Yep. My company opened a new office here, and I relocated so I could be closer to her.”
“My congratulations,” I drawled. “I don’t want to be rude, but I have to get back home before the stalker club descends on my house.”
He plucked the lemon cordial from my cart with a wink. “I’ll see you around, neighbor.”
I pursed my lips and watched as he turned and walked down the next aisle, leaving me standing there like an upturned turtle.
That’s what it felt like, at least.
Lying on my back, flailing, unable to respond.
He was right.
I didn’t want that lemon cordial.
At all.
“Ooooh, my!” Lillian skirted up beside me, adjusting her hairnet. “He’s a hottie!”
I turned and looked at one of my grandmother’s best friends. “Not you, too.”
She pursed her lips. “What I wouldn’t do to that young man if I were thirty years younger.”
“We’re going to the register,” I told her, looping an arm through hers and controlling the cart with my other hand. “I can’t believe Grandma sent you here to check on me.”
She grinned, peeking into the cart. “You’re missing some wine, honey.”
You know what? She was right.
I definitely was.
***
Jennifer, Lillian, Evelyn, and Kathleen walked into a bar.
They didn’t, actually. They were all sitting around the coffee table. Grandma Jen was holding court in the high-backed armchair I hated. Lillian was in the smaller bucket chair, already holding her back as if it was about to give up on her. Evelyn was flicking through her book like it was a shopping brochure, and Kathleen was frowning at her glass.
“I swear this is all gin, Lil.”
Grandma picked up her glass and swilled it. “It’s no good being mostly tonic, Kath.”
This was reason number one why I didn’t chaperone book club night. It was less book club and more… whiskey club.
I wasn’t against that. But when the whole club consisted of eighty-something-year-olds who were a little on the spicy side…
Well.
You try policing that.
It was easier to sit at my canvas and ignore the majority of their crap. It was also harder to do because the second one of them offered a stupid idea, I was almost inclined to respond.
It was like being on a diet and someone giving you chocolate cake. You know it’s a bad idea to say yes, but you know you’re not gonna turn it down. Nope. You’re gonna eat that slice of cake whole, baby.
That was essentially what it was like.
Except this chocolate cake came up with dumb ideas.
And got drunk over the books we all knew they hadn’t read.
Honestly, it was kind of goals. If I could be half as irritating when I was eighty, I’d be pretty damn happy.
Not that I was going to tell Grandma Jen that.
“So,” Lil said, pretending to flick through her book. “I saw that scrummy piece of ass next door talking to Immy at the store earlier today.”
I paused, my paintbrush in the red paint. I was doing a new canvas, something for fun. Mostly to get my mind off said scrummy piece of ass next door, so this wasn’t helping.
Grandma shuddered. “If I were thirty years younger—”
“You’d still be too old,” Evelyn snarked. “Unless he likes older women.”
“You know he doesn’t,” Kathleen responded. “He already spent his best years bonking Immy.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Did everyone over the age of seventy-five know about my college hook-up?
Hook-up.
Because it was only Mason.
Yeah. I wasn’t exactly someone who played the field. Then or now, to be honest.
But still.
Kids, don’t keep journals. Your nosy grandma will find it and, apparently, use it as fodder for her book club.
“Don’t you guys have some nipple clamps to be reading about?” I said, determined to steer it back to their book. “I’ve read those books. I can’t imagine that the new neighbor is more interesting than a kinky billionaire.”
“I have no idea,” Lil admitted. “I read two chapters and got distracted by Days of Our Lives.”
Grandma nodded agreement. “I watched that movie about Queen instead. Fantastic.”
“And we call ourselves a book club,” muttered Evelyn, ever the sensible one. “But I would like to hear more about the hottie next door.”
Four pairs of eyes all snapped in my direction.
I held up both my hands. “I have nothing to tell you. I haven’t seen Mason in six years, and I had no idea he was moving in until he did. I’m sorry to disappoint you, ladies.”
They all sighed and turned back into their circle.
“Well, I for one think we should bake him some muffins,” Kathleen said, reaching for a slice of cheese from the charcuterie board I’d been forced to create.
“I think a pie would be best,” Evelyn offered.
Lil shook her head. “We should bake a cake.”
“We should do all three!” Grandma announced, clapping her hands. Excitement lit up her eyes. “We can give him a feast! Plus cupcakes! Did you know he has a little girl? A darling little thing with the cutest curls.”