Page 235 of Manhattan Bossholes

“That…was a mistake,” she said, clearly mortified by her screwup even as she tried to hold on to her anger at me. She shook her hair out, the long strands falling next to her face, but it was too late. I could see how my comment affected her.

I glanced down at the bag in her hand. “Are the bagels your apology?”

“They were,” she muttered, though she looked like she wanted to shove the whole bag down my throat, hoping I’d choke.

“You don’t have to apologize for being attracted to me.”

She crumpled the bag in her hand, and I chuckled under my breath. I had to admit I didn’t mind this shift in the conversation. It sure beat having her accuse me of whatever horrible mistreatment she imagined I subjected Nana Dee to. But also, she was hot when she was all worked up, her chest heaving, and I was enjoying that immensely.

“I’ll have you know that message was sent by my friend, Stacy,” Natasha muttered. “And I had no idea you were the recipient. So, you can quit stroking your ego.”

“Stacy, sure,” I said. “And does this friend often reply to your emails?”

“No,” she said. “She was doing me a favor.”

“Right,” I said, letting her hear the doubt in my voice.

“I don’t care what you think,” she said.

“Oh, but I think you do.” I looked into her eyes, getting a little lost in the green of them. So lost I didn’t even notice Nana Dee at the end of the hall at first.

“This is my surprise?” she asked, delighted.

I looked over Natasha’s shoulder, which wasn’t hard. She was at least half a foot shorter than me. Nana Dee was smiling bigger than she had in weeks. It was still jarring for me to see her lean on her cane for support, pulling along that small cart with her oxygen cylinder, a string of clear plastic tubing trailing along behind her. Despite being ill, she was still the Nana Dee I’d always known, her cashmere sweater wrinkle free, her short, grey hair curled at the edges, and her pearl earrings in place.

I was surprised at how quickly she made her way down the hall, rushing over to introduce herself to Natasha, who’d been struck speechless for a beat.

“You didn’t tell me your grandmother is Deana Saunders,” Natasha hissed to me. “Of Saunders Furniture!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“She’s been an idol of mine since I learned about her in design school! No wonder this place is so gorgeous, with all these dark woods and rich pops of color. That’s always been her signature style, hasn’t it?”

Nana Dee reached us and immediately grabbed Natasha’s hand.

“It is so lovely to meet you, Mrs. Saunders,” Natasha said. “An honor, really.”

“Oh, please call me Dee. Everyone does. I am just so delighted to meet you.”

“You are?” Natasha asked, bemused.

“It’s not every day that Trent brings a girl home.”

Oh shit, I thought at the same time Natasha’s eyes widened. She seemed to make the same realization I did. Nana Dee thought Natasha was my girlfriend. Ha! That was a laugh. As if I’d be stupid enough to sign myself up to be bait for this Hellcat. I’d sooner lock myself in a cage with an actual tiger. But also…fuck! Dee looked so damn elated. She hadn’t smiled like that for weeks. How was I supposed to ruin her excitement when I already knew she’d had a rough morning?

“Oh, we’re not—” Natasha started to say as I jumped in.

“—putting labels on it yet.” I tucked my arm around her shoulders, squeezing even as I could feel her trying to shrug out of my grip. “We’re still getting to know each other. But hey, look—Natasha brought us bagels. We should eat them before they get cold, right?”

“Of course. Kitchen’s just through here,” Nana Dee said, leading the way.

“You go ahead and get the coffee started,” I called after her. “I’m just going to give Natasha a quick tour.”

“Don’t keep an old lady waiting,” Nana Dee insisted. “I want to hear all about how you two met.”

“Yep,” I said. “We’ll be right there.”

The moment we were alone, Natasha threw my arm off her shoulder. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”