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“All right, all right.” I turn her and tuck her against my chest. Together, we watch as Levi and Abby play with Bri by the swing set. “Maybe we should build our own red room of pain.”
She tenses against me and slowly turns her head. “You know about the red room of pain?”
“I’ve seen the movie.”
“Really?”
“And read the book,” I confess.
“Shut. Up.”
I shrug. “I wanted to see what all the hype was about.”
“And?” she asks, eyes wide with excitement.
“Had to jerk off every night for a week while I read it.”
The glorious sound of her laughter fills the air. “I’m sure that was a terrible hardship.”
“It was. Maybe you can read it to me sometime soon. It could be mutually beneficial to both of us,” I tell her, a sly grin on my face.
“I have a feeling it would take us forever to read the book,” she quips.
“Probably, but damn, won’t it be fun working our way to the end?”
“You’re bad,” she says, snuggling into my embrace a little deeper.
“Only with you.”
“How’s work going, Dean?” Emma asks, her eyes twinkling with humor.
“Fine,” I reply, clearing my throat.
“Actually, Grandma, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your little stunt you pulled a while ago?”
“Oh? And which stunt might you be referring to?” she asks sweetly. Of course, I notice her use of the term which, which tells me she’s a regular with the stunts.
“Oh, you know, the one where you added a bunch of zeros to the end of my profit sheet, essentially setting me up for tax fraud.” Everyone around us gasps.
Instead of the sheepish, guilty look I would expect to see on Emma’s face, I see her eyes gleam with something naughty, her smile one of victory. Shrugging her shoulders, she replies, “It worked, didn’t it?”
“What?” Payton and I both say at the same time.
“You two. I knew that hot young man would check everything over before submitting it, and I knew he would call you,” she says to Payton.
“So you set us up?”
“Of course I did! My granddaughter was in the market for a good car mechanic, and by God, I found her one,” Emma proclaims.
“A what?” Ryan asks, as confused as I am.
“I’m not a mechanic,” I say as Payton’s face flushes forty shades a pink.
“I’m not so sure about that. Aren’t I right, Payters?” Grandma asks. All eyes turn to the woman on my lap, whose eyes are wide and her mouth hanging open.
“You’re a sneaky little ol’ woman,” she finally says when she regains her composure.
“But I was right, wasn’t I?”
