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“The lady in the house?” She looked up at the house. “Lottie saw?”
“She watched for a moment from the window in the front.” He pointed in that general direction. “She has a wicked wink.”
That was Lottie, all right. “That’s my grandmother.”
“Are you visiting her, or do you live here?”
“I live with her.” Then because she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, she said, “She’s helping me, not the other way around. Though I try to do what I can to make life easier for her.”
She waited for some sort of judgment about her living situation, but he just smiled. “She must love having you here,” was all he said.
“Rachel!”
She shook her head at Jamie. “Now you’re in for it. I hope you’re ready.”
“I can’t wait,” he said, looking like he meant it.
She led the way to the front. Her grandmother stood on the stoop, leaning against the railing of the porch, a tray with two glasses of lemonade on it.
Jamie jogged up the steps, taking the tray from her grandma’s hands. “Allow me.”
Lottie smiled brilliantly. “The handsome foreigner. You’re much more handsome than Christian Grey.”
Looking over his shoulder, Jamie arched his brow at her.
Oh jeez. Feeling her face burn, she shook her head. “I didnotcompare you to Christian Grey.”
“That’s good. I have much more game.” He turned to Lottie. “I’m Jamie. I met Rachel last night at Clancy’s, and I don’t have a red room, but I’m open to discussion on the matter.”
Her grandma’s smile widened, and then she laughed. “I’m Lottie Morgan, Rachel’s grandma. I don’t have a red room either, but wouldn’t it be a hoot?”
His smile warm, Jamie studied Lottie in a way that made Rachel melt. Most people disregarded older people and missed what they had to offer. She was glad he wasn’t like that. After a moment, he said, “I can see where she gets her beauty from.”
“Your eyes are as sharp as your wit.” Lottie laughed, patting his hands. “Sit on the stoop. I’ll bring you some coffee cake to go with the lemonade.”
Rachel started up the porch steps to follow Lottie inside to help, but her grandma waved her off. “Go sit with Jamie.”
She turned.
He watched her steadily, as if he was waiting to see what she was going to choose.
What was there to choose? She wanted to sit with him again. She plopped down on the top step. “Just set the tray here.”
He put the tray to the side, handing her a glass. Taking one himself, he leaned against the end of the railing, angled toward her, one leg stretched out, one bent. He looked casual, comfy, like he always hung out just this way, a glass of lemonade in his hand.
His gaze was anything but casual though, and it didn’t make her comfy at all. In fact, it made her want to run through a sprinkler to cool off. She stared back at him, trying to figure out what he was searching for.
The corner of his mouth quirked, as if he knew he were driving her insane. He took a long slow sip from his glass, watching her. Somehow, his posture relaxed even further. “This is a nice place,” he said finally.
“That’swhat you’re going to lead with?” She was dying here, because she swore he looked like he was imagining sipping her instead of her grandma’s lemonade.
“Well, I would have liked to lead with ‘can I kiss you?’ but that seemed too forward,” he replied without missing a beat.
She gasped, her eyes goggling.
The screen door opened and her grandma scooted outside slowly, holding a plate laden with treats.
Jamie jumped up. “Let me take that,” he said, reaching for it.
