Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Schultz groaned and stood up with me. “What I wouldn’t do for a home-cooked meal that wasn’t done by me. My parents—who I moved here to help me with my nieces—are out of town. They’ve been on a country-wide wine tour for the last month and a half. And we’ve all been surviving on fast food and boxed meals.”
“You’re more than welcome,” I offered. “My Grans cooks enough for an army.”
“How about two?” Easton stood up. “I could use a break.”
After giving them directions to my grandmother’s house, I followed my own advice and headed straight there.
When I arrived, it was to find both Grans and Fran in the front of the house. Fran was picking weeds out of the garden that Grans was pointing out to her, and I felt my heart beat hard inside of my chest.
“That one there is called Belinda’s Dream. It was bred at Texas A&M by a math professor,” Grans said. “Careful of the prick.”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d heard ‘careful of the prick’ from my grandmother as I was doing the same damn thing that Fran was doing. In fact, had Fran not been here, I would be in her exact spot doing it instead. My grandmother loved her rose bushes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many types of roses in one place before.” Fran shook her head as she glanced over her shoulder.
I felt her smile in my soul when she aimed it at me.
“There’s my boy now,” Grans called shakily.
I looked at my Grans now sitting on her walker, all but beaming at me as I walked up to them.
“There are my two favorite ladies,” I said as I arrived. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a few colleagues from work who could use a good home-cooked meal.”
My grandmother beamed.
She loved having guests.
I was glad to have her back home.
She’d been out of town with her friends for what felt like forever.
The moment I was close enough, I dropped down and wrapped my grandmother in my arms, feeling a bit sad when I felt how fragile she felt in my arms after being gone for two months.
She felt so much lighter than the last time I had my arms around her.
“Grans, you lost weight,” I accused.
Grans snickered. “I was going for walks on the deck, boy. Of course, I’ve lost weight.” She patted her lack of belly. She’d never had one. Even in old photos where she was pregnant with my dad, or my aunt and uncle, did she have much of one. “Now, help me get these roses inside, and into a vase, so my table looks presentable for when your friends get here.”
Fran stood up then, too, and handed me her burden.
I took the flowers, ignoring the ‘pricks’ and then transferred them into one hand before pulling my woman into the heat of my body and placing a chaste kiss on her lips so I didn’t scandalize my grandmother.
When we got inside, and I had the flowers all situated, my grandmother sat in her chair and snapped her fingers. “Now, tell me about the book you’re close to finishing.”
I shook my head. “I’m not anywhere close to finishing it,” I said as I watched Fran putter around the kitchen. “I would be way closer if I had time to write it. But I’ve taken up this serial killer case out of necessity, and I haven’t had time to touch it in about a month.”
“That also might be a bit my fault,” Fran admitted as she came to the table with a basket of garlic bread covered by a red towel. “I’ve been keeping him a little preoccupied.”
My Grans beamed at her. “I’d rather you keep him occupied than him buried in his work. Knowing that he’s made time for you, instead of compulsively obsessing over a case, makes you more important in my eyes than anyone he’s ever allowed in yet.”
She had a point. Nothing could keep me from obsessing over a case once I had my teeth dug into it.
The next several minutes were spent with me moving this or that for my grandmother, setting the table, bringing food to the center of the large handmade table, and making sure the extra chairs were brought in from the guest room where my grandmother kept them.
Just as everything was set ‘just right’ according to my grandmother, there was a knock on her door.
I moved to get the door, but Fran beat me to it.
She was at the door, and swinging it wide open—without, might I add, looking to see who it was—before I could so much as take a step in the door’s direction.
She beamed at Easton and Schultz.
“Schultz,” she greeted. “Where are your kiddos?”
Schultz grinned at Fran and said, “They’re at a ‘CrossFit Night Out’ or whatever.” He jerked his chin in my direction. “Something that your old man over there suggested I put them into for my sanity. It’s been a godsend these last few weeks.”