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With his hazel eyes, so like Royce’s, I can’t help but like the man, especially with that boyish grin on his face... until... his eyes travel the length of me, sizing me up to see if I’m worthy.
“Genesis Turner,” he booms out. “My formidable opponent. You’re not so much. Just a mere slip of a girl.”
Royce was right.
Last weekend, while we lay in bed, in-between our many sex sessions, Royce told me that Gramps doesn’t mince words.
“Don’t be surprised if he calls you out on something you did when you were twelve,” he said,bonkinga long finger on the tip of my nose. Using the same finger, he softly traced my lips as he huskily whispered, “I’m sure he dug up information on you from the time you left your mother’s womb.”
Now that I’ve met the man, I wouldn’t doubt it. With the confidence that exudes from his every pore, and with the wealth that gives him the knowledge that the world is his, Robert Grayson looks the type to gather secrets. And I just bet he would know when to use them at the most opportune time.
Too bad for him that I no longer have any. Royce knows mine and I know his.
This man can’t hurt me.
This man can’t hurt us.
And he needs to know that.
Gramps has already turned away, dismissing me as he goes to greet Tiffany. Royce strides across the carpet, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a grim line.
I speak before Royce reaches me. I don’t need anyone to fight my battles. “Gramps, you sure are a rude and crusty old fart, aren’t you?”
Game. Set. Match.
Royce
I’matSin’ssidein an instant. No one outside the family, in my living memory, has talked back to Gramps, let alone called him a crusty old fart.
Those are ruining words.
I don’t know whether to laugh or gnash my teeth. Especially when I note Gramps’s wide-eye expression, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, and his hands curled loosely into fists.
“What did you say to me, young lady?” His voice is little more than a furious whisper, but it carries throughout the room.
I position Sin behind me. She’s not having it. She pops around my shoulder like a defective Jack-in-the-box with her neck craned back and her face flushed.
“I said, you are a rude, crusty old fart and I don’t appreciate you trying to come between Royce and me and Tiffany and Thomas.”
Tiffany had backed away a couple of feet when Gramps turned his back on Sin to greet her. I assume Tif wanted to give Sin all the room she needed to let Gramps have it.
It’s almost comical the way Sin stomps over to Gramps and stands so close she gives him almost no personal space.
Damn.
Sin is showing Gramps that she isn’t a delicate orchid, but a cactus, prickly and dangerous.
I’m so glad I’m not in his shoes.
And no, I don’t hold her back. I know she didn’t get to tell Matt’s mom off and she’s not gotten over it.
I won’t let her have that experience with Gramps. I’m letting my woman have her say because it’s the only time she will get to do so.
We are so out of here after. To hell with the plan.
Sin presses a finger into his chest. “Don’t get upset because your ‘plans’, and by ‘plans’, I mean your grandsons, didn’t fall into line like obedient little boys. They are grown men with their own minds and their own hearts and their own desires.”
She cuts off any further rebuke by rolling her bottom lip under her teeth. With the way she worries her lip, I know she is dying to say more.
