“What about me?” Greyson asked. “I want to help.”
His gaze still studying her and seeing much more than Morgan wanted him to see, Andrew put the photo down and placed his hand on Greyson’s shoulder. “Come with me, kid. You’re in with the men’s work.”
“Lights are men’s work?”
“Men’s work is whatever the women say is men’s work,” Grampy advised. “Learn it at an early age and you’ll have much happier relationships.”
The way Grammy was looking at Andrew made Morgan nervous. Or maybe it was what Andrew had said about her eyes that made her so nervous.
Because, heaven help her, his compliment stirred all kinds ofgood feelings inside her chest...and how could that be, when he held a photo of her with Trey and Baby Greyson?
Chapter Nine
Morgan reminded herself that what she saw outside her Grammy’s kitchen window was not what she wanted. Nope. Not at all.
Only, seeing Andrew chasing Greyson across the yard, grabbing her son around his waist and spinning him in the air as he made a ‘tackle’ might be exactly what she wanted. Greyson looked so happy. She didn’t have to be able to hear him to know that he’d sound happy, too. She could see his giggles.
“I know you told me there was nothing between you and Andrew, but maybe you should reconsider.”
Morgan’s gaze shot to her grandmother’s and she sighed. “Greyson sure thinks he hung the moon.”
“And you?”
“Get that look off your face, Grammy,” she warned. “Regardless of what I think of Andrew, neither of us is looking for a relationship.”
“Too bad because we think you make a wonderful couple.”
Morgan frowned. “You’ve talked to Grampy about me and Andrew?”
“Not Grampy. He’d say I should mind my own business,” Grammy rolled her eyes. “I meant me and the Butterflies.”
Well, that was no surprise.
“Ruby wasn’t that subtle this morning in church when she kept turning around and smiling at us, was she?”
Grammy Claudia laughed. “No, but Butterflies can be subtle when needed.”
“They’ve been known to stampede when they feel it’s needed, as well.”
Grammy laughed. “Our reputation precedes us, I see.”
“Mommy!”
Panic hit when she heard Greyson yelling for her as he rushed into the kitchen and came to a halt a few feet from her. As soon as she saw his face and uninjured body, she calmed. That was excited rushing, not the result of fear or injury. It dropped her into the same panic either way, though, until she was able to confirm that nothing was wrong.
“What are the rules about running indoors?” she asked.
His face scrunched up and he shot his great-grandmother an apologetic look. “Sorry, Grammy, but Mommy, can I sit on Andrew’s motorcycle?”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “Sit on it?”
“He doesn’t have an extra helmet with him so he said he wouldn’t take me for a ride even if you said yes.”
Morgan’s stomach twisted into a pretzel. She was glad Andrew had laid down the law on that point—but the fact that he’d had to still scared her, because it meant Greyson had been pushing it. “You asked Andrew to take you for a ride?”
Face glowing with excitement, Greyson nodded. “He said Big Bertha is a moody girl”—he giggled as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard—“but that I could sit on her if I promised to follow the rules.”
“What are the rules?” she gulped.
