I reach for my whiskey, swirling it in the glass before taking a sip.
I thinkI’mthe one close to having a heart attack.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since our lips touched. Since I felt her body in her arms and her hands against my chest. I’ve been distracted, every moment of every day since that kiss. Consumed by her.
And it doesn’t seem to be getting any better.
“So you kissed the sunflower girl and now she won’t talk to you. What are you not telling me? I can only assume there’s a reason behind her silence. Judging from the number of girlfriends you had in high school, we can assume you’re not a bad kisser.”
I cringe. “I regret starting this conversation.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t give you much of a choice.” She smiles. After screwing up my own order for the same drink I get every time I come to visit her and then promptly forgetting what I had planned on getting for dinner, Gam poked me until I finally blurted out my reason for being so flustered.
I should have figured out some way to pull myself together and brush past it because Ido notneed to have a kissing conversation with my grandmother. As close as we are, some subjects are best left untouched.
Like the sunflower girl, apparently.
Gam raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to continue.
“I got one of my guys to upgrade some bad wiring in her barn, and when she offered to help clean up my property, I suggested that she consider signing an easement instead.”
Gam crinkles her nose. “And this happened after the kiss?”
“Before.”
She cocks her head to the side. “So she was already angry with you and you decidedthatwas the moment to kiss her?”
“She kissed me first!”
The server drops off our dinners, and my grandmother has the decency to pause our conversation while he gets our plates situated on the table. We thank him when he checksin to make sure all the food looks right, and once he steps away to greet another table, Gam turns her attention back to me.
“Are you worried about the easement or are you worried abouther?”
I reach for my whiskey instead of answering.
She raises an eyebrow. “Either you know the right answer isherand you’re too embarrassed to say it, or you’re not the grandson I thought you were.”
“Gam,” I say, my voice flat.
She gives me a harsh look, daring me to say it.
I roll my eyes. “I’m worried about my relationship with her.”
“Your relationship?”
“As in friendship. Neighbor-ship. Acquaintance-ship. I just got her to like me, you know?”
She nods quietly, the smile on her face slowly blooming into a grin.
“What?”
She rubs her hands together, laughing lightly to herself. “Oh, I can just smell the great-grandbabies.”
I shake my head. “Gam, there are absolutely no great-grandbabies on the table right now.”
“Well of course not, you have to get back in her good graces first.”
I tilt my face to the ceiling, mentally kicking myself for not being stronger when she poked and prodded and insisted I tell her what was wrong. Gam has always been my confidante. The best parental figure I had when I was young and my father cared only about the next big property and my mom had checked out of parenthood, choosing alcohol and an array of pills over being there for me.
