“Ugh. Don’t call me kid. I’m sixteen. I’m Jenna.”
“Okay, slugger.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Way to take one for the team, champ.”
“No wonder Cade always calls you annoying.”
He smirked.
She grinned back. “Whatever. Look, start small. Get Aunt Piper flowers, but say it’s because she’s cooking the turkey dinner. Not because you want to date her or anything. Oh, and be warned, she’s not a great cook but thinks she is. Compliment her cooking for sure. Just be nice, not pushy. You need to flank her, not attack straight on.”
“Attack?”
She stuck her nose back in a book. “Something pretty.”
“Roses. Right.” Piper’s favorite flower.
“No. Well, only if they’re not red. Red roses is a love move. But if you got her yellow or white, that would work. Probably a nice fall mix would work better.”
“Okay. Yellow or white roses or a fall mix of flowers. Got it. Later, kiddo.”
Jenna growled. Mission accomplished here.
He left and headed to meet Piper. He’d planned to get her flowers and chocolates, little treats, anything and everything while getting her to lower her guard. But would last night’s kisses make things awkward? Had he ruined his plan before he’d even gotten started?
Nah. She’d told him not to be weird afterward. Well, not weirder than usual. He snorted. He’d do her one better. He’d be so freaking charming he’d knock her socks off. But just socks. He didn’t think his heart could stand it if she lost any more clothes in his presence. Remember Grant, don’t spook her by rushing her. Piper needs time to be wooed. Hell, maybe hoping for a Christmas romance is asking too much.
He didn’t know. He only knew he couldn’t mess up. Not with Piper.
He met her at the local market, where she’d already filled the cart with a bunch of food. His Piper, an organized shopper and planner. Yet another reason they would be so right together.
Grant cleared his throat. “Hi, Piper. Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem. Hey, can you grab that can of fried onions up there? I hate that they put them so high up.”
He reached it easily, not mentioning he’d passed a stack of them near the side entrance within easy reach, accompanied by cans of green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and yams.
“So you’re not going to your mom’s or dad’s for the holiday, obviously,” she stated.
“I haven’t talked to my dad in years.” Enough said about that subject. “My mom is spending the holiday with her new boyfriend.”
“That’s nice.”
He shrugged. “He seems like a good guy.”
“‘Good guy’ seems pretty noncommittal. You don’t like him?”
“I guess he’s okay. But he asked for my autograph when I met him. It was awkward.”
And speaking of awkward. As if saying it had invited them, a small group of women approached, eyeing him with delight. Piper didn’t show much of a reaction. Was that good or bad?
“Ah, maybe we should—” he started but didn’t get to finish.
“Oh wow. Are you Grant Weston?” one of the ladies gushed.
“The West Wind?” another asked excitedly.
