Russell set down his fork to wipe his mouth, then took a sip of coffee. “I remember being at the store when I still needed a stool to reach the cash register, ringing up a customer. I knew from the time I could walk hardware would be my whole life and that, if Dani hadn’t been so stubborn, it would have been hers, too. But I’ve got to admit, there’s a little part of me that’s not sorry to see it go. And, sitting here with you smiling at me and a pile of fried chicken on my plate, I guess I’ve still got enough life left in me to try to enjoy myself.”
For the first time in her sixty-five years, Cat decided to be forward with a man. “You got enough life in you to take an old woman dancing?”
“Well, if I should come across any old women, I’ll have to give that some thought. But in the meantime, I’d like to dance with you.”
When she blushed like a schoolgirl, Cat supposed she should at least be grateful she didn’t giggle like one. “You’re a charmer, Russell Walker. I think I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
He just grinned and bit into a big, greasy hunk of fried chicken.
Sean jogged past the mailbox, glancing at the daisies, and turned down Emma’s driveway. He’d have just enough time for a quick shower before Emma’s alarm went off and another day of crazy started.
When four in the morning rolled around and he’d spent more time tossing and turning than sleeping because his aching body was keeping him awake, he’d eased out of bed and snuck out of the house for a run. It worked in boot camp—crush disobedience and rebellion with grueling physical punishment. He wasn’t sure if the same principle would work on his dick, but it was worth a shot.
Slick with sweat and slightly winded, he crossed the porch and snuck back into the quiet house. After kicking his sneakers off, he went up the stairs—remembering just in time where the squeaky spot was— and let himself back into Emma’s room. Their room. She was still snoring, so he went into the bathroom and closed the door.
He ran the shower hot, washing the sweat away, and then slowly turned the dial toward cold until he was wide awake and his body was beaten into submission. Then he toweled as much of the water out of his hair as he could, dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist.
He had a mouthful of toothpaste when the door opened and Emma walked in, rubbing her face. She was carrying a bundle of clothes and squinting against the light—even though in her half-asleep state she still slapped her hand at the wall switch—and almost walked into him before she noticed his presence.
“Oh.” She stopped and blinked at him. “I thought you were still in bed.”
He spit out the toothpaste and grabbed the hand towel to wipe his mouth. “I usually make a bigger lump.”
“I don’t look because you throw the covers off and…” She broke off as her eyes drifted south to the towel, where bigger lump took on a whole new meaning. He’d thrown miles of punishment at his body for no reason. “Oh.”
Rather than dwell on deciphering the tone of that oh, he took her by the shoulders and guided her far enough to the left so he could get by her. Once he was free, he closed the door behind him and swore under his breath.
The only way that could have been more awkward was if his towel had slipped off in front of her.
After getting dressed in record time, he flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. This was the kind of story a woman would share with her best friend. And her best friend was married to his cousin. His cousin had a big mouth. It was only a matter of time before one of his brothers called, asking him what the hell was going on.
With a sigh, he pushed himself off the bed and headed downstairs. One, he wanted coffee. And, two, he didn’t want to be sprawled on the bed when Emma got around to leaving the bathroom. The only thing more awkward than being caught in a towel that didn’t do much to hide an erection was talking about it.
Cat was sitting at the table, sipping her tea, when he walked in. “You beat Emma down this morning.”
“It doesn’t happen often.” He poured two mugs of coffee and then froze. He had no clue what Emma took in her coffee. He knew she took some half-and-half, but he wasn’t sure about the sugar. Putting his back between Cat and the cups, he dumped two teaspoons in each cup.
“How do you like working with my granddaughter?”
Since he’d only worked with her for a day and a half, he couldn’t really say. “It’s not too bad. She works hard. Has a good head for business.”
“And she has excellent control skills,” Cat added.
He laughed, thinking of their trip to the grocery store. “That she does.”
“I guess you know her pretty well.”
She was watching him, so he concentrated on looking honest. Whatever that looked like. “She’s a complicated woman. I’m not sure anybody really knows her well. Except you, of course.”
She laughed as the complicated woman in question walked into the kitchen. “Morning, Gram. What’s so funny?”
“Just chatting with Sean and, now that you’re up, I’ll start some French toast.”