“Thank you,” Iris calls out before my grandpa hangs up.
“You’re most welcome, darling.”
Darling’s a new one.
“Oh. I forgot to tell you. Pike and Gigi are in town for the week. They’re coming to dinner too.”
Now, the darling comment makes sense. “Sounds good,” I tell him before he disconnects the call.
“Who are Gigi and Pike?” Iris asks as she moves to a seated position on the bed next to me with her legs folded underneath her body.
“Cousins from Florida.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows rise. “Is your family big?”
“Enormous, but don’t worry. Some of the pressure is off with them there tonight. My grandma won’t be able to question us relentlessly with witnesses.”
“Stop,” she says as she laughs. “You’re making your grandma sound scarier than Malakai.”
“I’m honestly not sure which one is scarier,” I say, pulling her toward me. “Betty can be something else.”
“I can take it.”
I press my lips to her bare shoulder, wishing she weren’t wearing an old tank top and shorts of mine that are way too big on her. Somehow, she looks good in the raggedy old clothes. “I’ll remind you of that later.”
“I need coffee,” she says, killing any plans I have of having her for breakfast.
“I’ll make a pot,” I say against her shoulder, trying to keep the grumpiness out of my voice.
“Do you have good coffee?” She peers over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t do half-assed coffee,” I lie.
Yesterday morning, I picked up what my mom said were the best beans you can get at the grocery store. And since Iris loved the coffee at Tilly’s bakery, I figured I’d listen to her advice. Before then, I did indeed have shit coffee in my cabinet, but Iris doesn’t need to know that.
“Take your time getting up, and I’ll get it started,” I tell her, untangling my body from hers.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she says as she rolls over, putting her palm under her head. Her eyes travel down the length of my body, and I can see the heat in her gaze. “I can’t go to your grandparents’ in this.”
I grab a T-shirt from my dresser and pull it on, hating that I put the thermostat so low last night. I wanted her to come to me for warmth, and my planworked perfectly. “I’ll call my sister. She can bring some clothes for you to wear.”
“You’re too good to me.” She stretches, and the tank top she’s wearing rides up her stomach, exposing the skin I’ve been dying to taste.
“Never accept anything less, Iris.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I smile, but my eyes are locked on the stretch of her exposed stomach.
“Coffee,” she says when I don’t move right away.
“Got it,” I say, clearing my throat and spinning on my heel before my body decides to put on a show, giving away every dirty thought that’s going through my head.
An hour later, Tate’s at the kitchen island with a bag full of clothes for Iris to try on.
“So…” Tate says as she cups the hot mug of coffee in her hands. “Gram’s tonight?”
“Yeah.” I lean over the island, sipping on my second cup. “You two coming?”
