Ezra chucked her under the chin. “Quit jokin’ around about my mental age in order to avoid the subject. I just want you to finally be happy with a decent fella like I was with your grandma Lettie.”
She and Ezra had a bond she didn’t even share with her parents, and the chance to dote on him for more than just a summer had been too good to pass up. They made great roommates and even greater bingo partners. Ezra accepted her as-is—loved her in the unconditional way her parents just couldn’t seem to manage, and she’d never forget that.
“I have you. I don’t need any other fellas. Now c’mon, old man—before all the soft food is gone and you have to fight Agnes Wheeler for the last bowl of Jell-O.”
Ezra guffawed, holding out his arm to her. “She mighta won that round last spring dance, but I’d like to see Crabby Patty take me down when it comes to the tapioca. I don’t care how many threats she lobs at me about frog eyes and moth wings, I shall not be defeated!”
Calla pulled him out the door and toward the steps leading out of the building. “You play nice, buddy. I hear Agnes Wheeler wields a mean, unforgiving wand.”
Stopping, Ezra looked down at her, running his finger along the bridge of her nose just like he used to when she was little. “I love ya, Cupcake. You know that, right? No matter what—always-always—forever-forever.”
She fought a rush of tears. If she never had anything or anyone else, she had Ezra. “Always-always—forever-forever,” she repeated, her throat tight, before pulling him down the steps and heading off toward the VFW hall.
“Wow,” Nash murmured when she met him at the front of the hall.
Yeah. Wow. She really felt wow. All while she’d gotten ready, taking her time applying her makeup, curling her hair, she’d anticipated putting the dress back on.
When she’d slipped it on again, her troubles, her fears, almost totally melted away. They’d become a distant, hazy memory. Pairing the dress with some cute, open-toed black heels, she’d felt about as close to euphoric as she ever had.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Ezra said cheerfully, clapping Nash on his broad back. “Now, you two, I’m out. Agnes is in for a big surprise when she finds out her old Jell-O nemesis is on the hunt. Be good to my girl—or you’ll have me to reckon with.”
Nash smiled down at her grandfather and offered him a hand. “You be kind to Agnes, Ezra. You know how she feels about her Jell-O. Besides, you’ll probably be too busy chasing Greta and her hot new whistle.”
Ezra’s eyes lit up, his tufts of white hair glowing around his tanned face. “Is she inside?”
Nash nodded, his black Stetson tipping downward, making him look rakish and even sexier than he already was. “She is, and she looks pretty good tonight, Ezra. All dressed up like the prom queen.”
“Woohoo!” he shouted, doing a little dance before he winked at Calla. “Gotta run, kids! I won’t leave the midnight oil burning for ya, Calla!”
Nash’s chuckle rumbled in her ears as Ezra dove through the doors to the dance. “I sure hope I’m as spry as he is when I’m…how old is he again?”
“Three hundred and six and a half.” Her grandfather was nothing if not feisty, flirtatious and always up for a little skirt chasing.
It had taken him a long time to get over her grandma Lettie’s tragic and unexpected passing fifty years ago, after she’d been killed during a full-moon run by poachers, but he was coming around these days.
Nash nodded, pulling her close. “Right. I hope I still have that kind of game when I’m even half that age.”
“Your game is right on target,” she said, a little breathless now that she was able to take in all of him. He wore a pair of jeans, tight-fitting and black, to match his hat. His crisp white T-shirt, coupled with a black sport coat, enhanced his muscles in all the right places.
He held her at arms’ length, sweeping her frame with an appraising glance. “Forget me, look at you. You look beautiful tonight. Really beautiful.”
Standing on tiptoe, she planted a kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment when he skimmed his tongue against hers. “You like?”
“I like it so much, I propose we skip the dance,” he joked in his gruff, rumbly tone, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close again.
She leaned back in his arms and shook a finger at him. “You’re not getting out of a two-step, buddy. Besides, I hear they have corn dogs. We both know how you feel about corn dogs.”
He let his arm fall from her waist, his eyes amused. “Oh. In that case, forget it. Get a move on, slowpoke. Better hurry before Howie Henderson eats them all. Damn warlock eats like he’s never had a meal.”