Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Luckily, Gran doesn’t spend much time on the internet, but she’ll know the Pruitt name the minute she hears it. And once she does, she’ll figure out the rest faster than you can say time bomb.
Brady must realize the danger too.
“Not exactly, I mean,” he adds.
Not exactly.
“We’re together, Gran, full disclosure,” I say quickly, eyeing her cup to see how strong it’s getting. “Please don’t say anything embarrassing?”
“Hmm.” I notice she doesn’t agree. “Brady, huh? Brady what?”
“Pruitt,” he says.
Oh no.
She grunts like she’s perfectly familiar with the name.
“Ah, yes. I knew your grandmother back in the day, all that land they used to own past Tacoma? Still in the farming business, are you?”
“Close enough, ma’am. I’m working on my own spin-off brand of affordable organic pet food.”
Gran’s brows rise.
Oh Jesus, no.
“Your family’s done well for generations. How rich are you, then? I’d love to see you give my Elle’s hubby a run for his money.”
“Oh my God. Gran, you can’t just ask people that . . .” I sink into a chair after serving Gran’s tea and sliding Brady’s coffee toward him so fast it almost spills.
Then I take a big gulp from my own cup, wishing I’d splashed some whiskey in there. Or rum. Or maybe I could just skip the liquor and throw myself out the window.
“Now, Lena, you’re the last one who should be surprised. If I didn’t vet the men my girls are dating, who else would?” She laughs at her own granny logic.
I’m so dead.
But this is the karma train coming home for teaming up with the old lady to push Elle and August along, I guess. It’s my turn to get flattened.
“I do well for myself,” Brady says.
Understatement of the century.
He doesn’t mention he’s an heir to freaking billions, but the snide look on Gran’s face tells me she can figure it out.
“And what do you think about Lena’s job? I trust you’re okay with her coming home smelling like wet dog?”
Face, meet palm.
“Can’t say I mind a little funk when it comes from helping pets. Besides, she cleans up well. You’d never know, Gran. Actually, that’s how we met: through her clinic. I brought in a lost dog, and she was smitten at first sight.” He gives me a conspiratorial look.
I whack him on the shoulder. Not so playfully.
That wins me another one of Granny’s trademark cackles.
“You like animals, then?” Gran asks.
“Yes, ma’am. I was that kid who always chose the zoo over arcades or water parks. Always loved the tigers and wolves. I could watch them for hours.”
“A man with taste. Good.” She sniffs with satisfaction. “How old are you, son?”
“Ignore her,” I say. “Only answer if she tells you her age first.”
“Thirty-five, and not a day over.” She doesn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, I would never doubt it.” Brady hides his grin behind a sip of coffee.
“Charmer.” She looks at me and gestures at the plate on the table. “Kindly cut the bread and feed your man, Lena, or we’ll be here all day. Now, Brady, how old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Almost thirty. That’s a big one.” Gran gives him a wistful look while I slice the loaf and plate it up.
Gran goes the extra mile, adding these dried banana flakes on top for added sweetness and crunch. Normally, I appreciate it, but not today.
“It’s coming hard and fast, but I’m game.”
“Any previous marriages? Messy divorces? Current wives? Children?”
Brady snorts into his coffee cup. “None that I’m aware of.”
“A Boy Scout.” She leans closer to me and whispers loudly, “You must corrupt him a little, dear.” Then she turns to Brady again. “Any vices?”
“Grannn,” I moan. “You’re killing me.”
“Surely, he has a reputation. Any young man with his looks and money does.”
“A few I regret. The family name used to stir up a few headlines. My grandfather got me into gambling on dog races for a while. I was a partier back when I could get shit-faced without feeling like I had a tank drive over me the next morning,” Brady says, handing this woman ammunition that makes her laugh like a witch over a magic cauldron. “But that’s all in the past. You’re right, thirty’s a big number, and I don’t intend to screw it up.”
Gran smiles, arming herself. “And you think you’re the prince my Lena’s been waiting for.”
Brady glances between us, bewildered like he’s still trying to figure out our connection. I sigh.
“She’s my best friend’s grandmother. We’re basically family. Unfortunately.”
“You bet your lucky stars!” Gran chimes in. “And if this is serious, girl, I must make sure he’s right for you and spare your young heart from getting mangled.”
A little late for that.
Gran doesn’t know everything about Harry Jay—not all of it. But she knows enough. She knows we dated, and she knows it didn’t end well.
Ever since, it’s fair to say she’s been a little protective.