“I’ll wrap a towel around me,” he called over his shoulder, “but I doubt it’s necessary. Granny doesn’t get up at night.”
“Are you sure about that? My grandma gets up several times a night.”
“Okay, maybe she does get up and I just haven’t noticed.” He stepped into the bathroom.
“She probably does, and unless you modified the floorplan like my folks did, the second bathroom is down the hall.”
“You’ve made your point. I’ll put on my jeans.”
“I’d offer to get us water, but if she doesn’t run into me, she never has to know I stayed.”
“She’ll know.”
“How?”
He finished washing up and walked out. “Because I’ll tell her.”
“Why do that?” In the interim she’d pulled back the covers and propped herself up with a pillow. She drilled him with a what-the-hell look.
“Guaranteed she’ll ask me, and I’m not gonna lie. I promise she won’t say anything to anyone. She passed that test by keeping my book a secret since October.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter if she knows. I’d just rather my family didn’t find out.”
Sounded like she’d be embarrassed, which nicked his pride. “Afraid your dad will come after me with a shotgun?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re right. He’s a peaceful sort. Your mom’s more the type to wave that double-barrel at me.”
That got her to smile. “She’d have to point it at me. I’m the holdout. You’d probably go along with a shotgun wedding.”
“Not if you don’t want me.” He pulled on his briefs and picked up his jeans.
“That’s the problem. I do.”
The knot in his chest loosened some. “Thank you for that.” He held her gaze. “It means a lot. But you’re in love with that publishing house and I refuse to break up a happy relationship.” Buttoning and zipping his jeans, he crossed to the door, opened it and stepped out. He almost ran into Granny. “Hey, there.”
“Rance! Jaysus! Nearly scared the life out of me, ya did.”
“Sorry.” He quickly closed the door behind him. “Just got up to fetch a glass of water.”
“What didja say?”
“I NEED A GLASS OF WATER!” Technically he needed two, but he chose not to be that specific.
“Ah. ’Tis what I’m after, too. My throat’s drier than Maeve O’Malley’s soda bread. Ya never tasted somethin’ that dry. Like chewin’ on a brick.” She tightened the sash on her robe as she walked toward the dark kitchen, her slippers whispering over the wooden floor. Whoops. They’d left the place a mess. “SORRY ABOUT THE DISHES!”
“Broke ’em in a fit of passion, didja?”
“WE LEFT WITHOUT CLEANING UP!”
“Well, good on ya. How’s it goin’, then?”
“GREAT!”
“Grand was it?” She paused and turned back to him. “Fer both a ya? Lani, too?”
His face heated. Good thing he was hidden by the shadows. “For both of us.”
