Almost Real (Almost Ever After), page 19
“You’re only old in body, Gran! Not spirit.” I set her offerings on my small table, then grab a couple plates and a knife as she settles in without being asked. “Coffee?”
“I’m down to two cups a day, and I already had ’em. Anything more gives me rabbit shits.”
“Gran!”
“Like you said, old in body. I’ll have some tea if you’ve got it.” She cackles as she unwraps her latest baked masterpiece.
“Sure.” I put the kettle on the stove and bring out the French press for myself. Haven’t splashed money on a fancy coffee maker yet—not like Brady’s espresso machine—but I still like my coffee good.
Only the finest Hawaiian-grown brew from Wired Cup in this house—a local coffee chain with a lot of drama a few years back. I’m not sure why Seattle draws eccentric billionaires like magnets.
I only add a splash of cream and sugar too. Nothing like Dr. Ezzie, who drinks hers instant and bulletproof style, so thick with butter and cream the teaspoon practically stands up in the cup.
“Thanks for the goodies,” I say as I find a vase in my cabinet for the flowers. “Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me for a date.”
She gives me a scorned look. “Young lady, if the only folks who ever give you flowers are trying to jump your bones, you’re—” Her face splits into a grin. “Well, you’re still young, that’s what I say.”
I wince.
The last thing you need from your adopted grandmother is a lecture on bone jumping.
“I meant to say—” I stop. I have no idea what I meant, and I don’t have time to figure it out, because that’s the exact second Brady walks out of my room, yawning like a cave bear waking up.
Of course, he’s shirtless and magnificent. Washboard abs on full display, jeans slung low on his hips as he runs a sleepy hand through his hair.
Yep, I’m doomed.
There’s no way I’m explaining this away now.
That doesn’t stop me from trying.
“Gran, this is my friend Brady,” I say hastily. “He, um . . . he stopped by last night for a chat.”
I suck at this so hard.
Brady’s eyebrows fly up, and the corner of his mouth twitches as he sees I’m not alone.
If he could stop being so amused, that would be awesome.
“Brady?” Gran’s eyes narrow like a hawk, and she pulls out the seat beside her. “Well, don’t just stand there, boy. Put some clothes on and join us for breakfast. Lena was just getting started.”
He gives a lazy grin and winks at me—winks!—and then strolls back into the bedroom to find his shirt, still tugging it over his head as he returns.
“Mm, coffee smells good. Thanks, Sass,” he says as he drops into the chair.
Gran gives me a look. The awkward grin plastered on my face might break it.
When she looks away, I fire Brady an evil eye as I work on steeping Gran’s tea.
He just grins right back at me again like it’s all a huge joke.
Cocky prick.
“So, you’re the man who’s warming my Lena’s bed?”
“Gran, no.” I choke on my own spit.
“That’s fine and all, I’m no prude, but if you’re looking for one naughty night, you can pack up right now. She’s a good girl,” she tells him magnanimously.
Holy hell.
I want to sink through the floor to India.
“No one-night hookups here.” Brady seems to turn his brain on—thank God—but there’s no way we’re bluffing our way out of this one.
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.
Not that I’ve ever dated much since, much less brought my dates home.
Until now.
I’m still trying to hash that out: what I want—if anything—and if it’s safe to want anything with Brady.
“I’ll look after her, ma’am. You have my word,” Brady says firmly. I guess that’s the years of PR skills speaking. He never has to fumble around for the right words, unlike yours truly. They just drip off his tongue, all sugared honey. “That’s all I want to do. Make her happy.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s true,” I say, desperate for the interrogation to end. “We’re very happy together.”
Brady’s eyes slide over to me, and he takes my hand under the table, linking our fingers and squeezing.
Embarrassingly, I flush.
“So, that’s where we are. Judgment time.” Gran gives me a knowing look.
“I hope you approve, Gran. I want Lena’s whole tribe to like me.”
Gran grunts, digging into her banana bread to hide her smile. We don’t often get all cutesy and emotional, but I really do see her like family—the same way she sees me as a surrogate grandchild.
Brady winks at me.
“It’s been fun, but I should probably get dressed for real.” With a kiss on my cheek that’s part performance and part heartache, he heads for the bathroom.
The second the door shuts behind him, Gran leans closer with a glint in her eye. “You could do worse, you know. The man’s so flawless I could barely get a single swipe in.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“I like him. If he’s good with animals, he won’t be mad when you come dragging home from work after dark.”
Charlie the corgi certainly seemed to like him too. There’s no doubt Brady cares, and he’s entirely forgiving.
Apparently, his magic charm isn’t just isolated to people.
It feels kinda daunting, if I’m honest.
I’ve never been a people pleaser, and not everyone likes me. I can’t count the number of times I’ve delivered bad news to clients to save Dr. Ezzie the grief.
Normally, that’s no problem when I only see a handful of people socially every day.
But with my name linked to Brady Pruitt, all of Seattle will have questions about me soon, and then they’ll have opinions.
Whatever my superpowers are, instant likability isn’t high on the list.
Not like Brady.
“The money can’t hurt either,” Gran tells me. “Hardly the most important thing, of course, if you can find a rich one and he checks the other boxes . . .”
“Gran!” I eye her. “I didn’t think you were so mercenary.”
“Your mercenary is my common sense. You know what breaks up a lot of marriages? Money issues. If he’s got enough cash piled up to make a rainy day a walk in the mist, you’re golden. You two can keep each other happy for the long haul.”
“Slow down, Gran. We’re not getting married.”
“No?” She gives me a sour look that cuts through my soul. “Don’t you bullshit me, pet. I’ve known you too long.”
Ugh.
There’s nothing I can say, though. Not without either letting her in on our ruse or lying more to her face, so I keep quiet, gobbling a mouthful of banana bread.
“You don’t find men that good looking growing on trees.” Gran grins, her wrinkles deepening.
Brady chooses to walk back into the room that second, his smile turning wicked.
“Thank you,” he says with a teasing bow. “I try my best.”
Gran just chuckles, tapping the table with one gnarled finger. “Sit back down here, boy. You’ll do for our Lena. You’ll do just fine.”
“Lena tested; Gran approved. That’s huge.” The worst part is, he sounds like he means it.
“I should probably get going and leave you two lovebirds to your music.” Gran pushes up from the table with a dramatic stretch. “Mind you, tell Elle soon, if you haven’t yet. Or I will.”
“Gran, I’ve been busy. But sure.”
She’s so relentless.
But yes, why not bring my best friend in on the dumbest mistake of my life? Again, it’s only fair play, after I had so much fun helping push her into holy matrimony.
“It’s been nice with my granddaughter married, but so boring.” She clucks her tongue and looks at me. “We finally have something to liven things up around here. Don’t let me down.”
No controlling that.
Whatever happens between Brady and me, someone’s going to wind up massively disappointed. That’s what I dread.
“Thanks, Gran. Always fun to entertain you,” I say dubiously as I follow her to the door.
She laughs and lifts her face to mine, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
“Look after yourself, Lena girl! Be happy. And if that man gives you a reason to smile, you stuff the attitude.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Brady helping himself to another slice of banana bread. It’s oddly domestic—the sight of him in this kitchen on a lazy morning, making himself at home.
Weirdly, nicely, deeply unsettling.
I can’t get too used to this. But part of me already wants to.
“You know I wouldn’t dare waste your wisdom.” My smile is slightly forced.
Gran just doesn’t know it’s for my own benefit.
XVI
For The Birds
(Brady)
“Your grandmother likes me. That has to count for something.” I smile at Lena as she ignores me, the wind pushing her loose brown hair from her face.
We’re on our way to Bainbridge Island on the big green-and-white ferry, and the sea breeze stings my cheeks.
“Technically, she’s not my grandmother.”
“Do technicalities matter, Sass?”
She shoots me a disgruntled look, and I laugh, taking her hand.
“What’s your mother up to these days, anyway? Does she visit?”
Her face falls.
“Retired. Mostly. I visit her a few times a year. Port Townsend. It’s a nice little getaway, even if it’s kind of far. After everything that happened, she’s not too fond of revisiting Seattle.”
She’s afraid to show her face here.
That’s what she’s not saying, and I hate that I can read between the lines.
I ease up, bringing the conversation back to Gran. Thankfully, the old woman’s antics spun enough old stories to keep Lena smiling while she tells them.
It’s a light crowd on the ship today, and no one else can hear our conversation, but the appearance is still public. Deliberately staged so people will see us out and about together, knowing a few of those bystanders will pull out their phones and snap not-so-discreet pics.
I want it to look natural.
Experience says Lena doesn’t perform well if she knows there’s an audience, but we also need this to be convincing.
That’s becoming less of a problem by the day.
Hell, after this morning, it’s no problem at all.
“Stop being a prick, and enjoy the breeze.” She twists her hand in mine so our fingers twine.
“I’m just enjoying the fact that Gran called me handsome. And rich. And basically God’s gift to Lena Joly.”
“Careful, dude. If your head gets any bigger, I’ll pop it.”
I pull her in, capturing her against my chest, bringing our laced hands to rest on her waist.
“What were the other compliments again? There were so many, I can’t remember them all.”
“If you like her so much, go fake an engagement,” she says, but she leans her head back against me.
Mindful of any cameras, I nip her ear, feeling her shiver as she giggles.
No more.
Not here, as tempting as it is.
“She is a catch, age difference be damned. Considering her questions, she’s clearly got her head screwed on right.”
“I can’t believe she asked if you were married. Gah.”
“Well, she doesn’t want some crazy wife to come out of the attic and start swinging for your head. You’d be surprised how often it happens in my circles. Guys get greedy and think they’re invincible, only to get their dicks rammed in the door.”
“Like you could get married without the whole world knowing.” She huffs a breath.
The thought claws at my chest, though I don’t know why.
She’s not wrong about the attention lavished on my dumb ass. That’s the entire point of this whole sham, after all.
Even if I tried some low-key courthouse wedding or eloping to Nepal, someone would get wind of it.
“I dunno,” I say. “I could probably go to Vegas and pick up a girl there to marry without anyone knowing.”
“Classy. Do they still have Elvis impersonators licensed to marry?”
“Hey, don’t blame me. You didn’t specify how this marriage would happen.”
“Theoretical marriage that’s never happening,” she corrects. Why does she sound so annoyed? “I mean, a big showy thing followed by a real ugly divorce would undermine what you’re trying to do here, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah. But it might be fun.” I lean in, blowing a strand of loose hair away from her face.
She pretends to hate it, but I see her cheeks bloom red.
Shit, with her body against mine, all warmth and supple curves, it’s hard to imagine ever sharing a life with anyone else.
“Do you ever wish you could disappear?” she asks after a second. “Like hire your way into some witness protection thing to assign you a new name and life?”
