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’snoway 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 saytime bomb.
Brady must realize the danger too.
