She gives an aggrieved sniff as if to say no fire could be more important than whatever she wants.
“So, what do you need?” I ask. “Because if you’re looking for a patsy to lower your chair’s legs, or whatever, you called the wrong girl.”
“I need help,” she says stiffly.
“As hard as it must have been for you to admit that, you’re going to have to give me more. What do you want?”
She lowers her voice and hisses, “There’s asituationwith the male co-host for my show. You know,Matchmaking—”
“Yeah, I know,” I snap. “Are you talking about Harry?”
His interview was supposed to happen yesterday, although I’d assumed it would be a longer process involving several rounds. Then again, they’re supposed to start filming imminently, and I could understand why they’d want the more friendly co-host to be a part of the production from the beginning.
“Yes,” she says flatly. “They gave him the job on the spot, although I thought the other young man, the underwear model from Raleigh, was amuchbetter fit. We would have workedverywell together. But I suppose they were worried he’d steal the spotlight.”
“From the contestants?” I ask, because that actually makes sense.
“From me,” she snaps.
Of course she thinks that.
But I can’t let myself get distracted. Harry has apparently been at Nana’s mercy all night, which is not a good situation for anyone. “What happened?”
“Well,” she says, and I can easily imagine her smoothing her immaculate white bun, “some men can’t hold their liquor.”
“You’ve been drinking with him?” I ask in wonder. I can’t remember the last time my grandmother drank any alcohol. She’s the kind of control freak who never wants to loosen her death grip on…anything, actually. She doesn’t touch the stuff.
“Not exactly,” she says. “I invited him over for some sweet tea on the porch.”
“So…what? He brought a flask?”
“I put a little moonshine in his tea,” she says with no remorse. “I thought it might loosen him up. He'sveryuptight.”
I lower onto the flour-covered chair, no longer minding very much that I’ll have a flour butt. “Youdruggedhim?” I ask. Given she has the moral compass of a dictator, I probably shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. This is a new low, even for her.
I’m surprised to feel a warm hand descend on my shoulder, and I look up to see Cole standing next to me, watching me with a look that says,I’m here if you need me.Soaking in that look feels like biting into one of those cookies we never got around to making.
“Ofcoursenot,” Nana snaps. “A little moonshine never killed anyone. It’s a tradition here. If he doesn’t like moonshine, then he has no business working in Heber County. Why, moonshine has been our bread and butter for decades.”
I could point out thatshedoesn’t like moonshine, but I don’t see the purpose. Besides, it’s become pretty clear that I need to intervene in this situation, if only for Tina’s sake…and Rowan’s. My brother’s attempts to set up his best friend are adorable.
“Where is he?” I ask.
“He fell asleep on my couch after he was sick in the bathroom,” Nana says with distaste. “But hecannotstay here. You know how people talk.”
Good grief, of course that’s why she cares. She didn’t call me out of any actual concern for Harry. She only cares about how all of this might reflect on her. “He’s a gay guy in his thirties,” I say. “No one’s going to think he stayed over at your place so he could bone an eighty-year-old woman. It’s more likely they’ll guess why he’s really there.Because you drugged him.”
“Behave yourself, Holly,” she snaps. “I knew I should have called Bryn.”
I give a bitter laugh. “Shedefinitelywouldn’t have picked up. Why didn’t you call Tina? Harry’s her best friend.”
“She didn’t answer either,” she says loftily. “Well, are you going to do anything about this?”
What does she expect me to do? Physically haul the man out of her house? Give him smelling salts?
Regardless, it’s clear that I have to do something.
Cole’s fingers are massaging my shoulder, and I glance up at him, taking in his strong, muscular arms.
