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“They’re so rude to you,” Max cooed to Winston. “Yes, they are. So mean. Mean ladies.”
I frowned at him, reaching for my water. “Is he scaring you, too?” I asked Esme.
“Since the day he was born,” she replied dryly, eyeing him and the cat. “A little more than usual right now, though, I’ll be honest.”
Oh, good.
It wasn’t just me.
“You haven’t spiked his water, have you?”
“Sadly not,” she replied, ignoring Max’s dark glare in her direction. “If I did, it’d be with a love potion so he’d get married and give me grandchildren. Heck, I wouldn’t even mind if he didn’t get married.”
I frowned. “Titles can’t be inherited without marriage, right?”
“An heir must be born of the body in wedlock,” Max said dryly. “No adoption, no surrogacy, no accidental one-night stands who show up five years later like they do in your books.”
“That was one book,” I corrected him. “And that wasn’t the duke’s kid. It was his brother’s.” I paused. “How do you even know that? Are you reading my books still?”
“No,” he replied, right as Esme said, “Yes.”
We both looked at her.
She shrugged, cutting the pie. “I saw what I saw, Max.”
My lips twitched. “You saw him reading my books?”
“Oh, sure. Grandma can read them, but if I do, it’s weird.”
“Of course it’s weird,” Esme replied, scooping vanilla ice-cream out of the tub and setting it next to a warm slice of pie that she set in front of me. “You reject romance in every facet of your life, yet you’re now reading romance novels and, worse, enjoying them, while regularly canoodling with the author of said novels. If you’re not careful, I’m going to think you’ve changed your mind and will be happy to get married and give me the grandchildren I’d like.”
Canoodling?
We didn’t canoodle.
Did we?
“Grandma.” Max’s voice had an edge to it.
“Don’t say my name in that tone of voice.”
“I’ll say it however I like if you don’t drop it.”
I glanced between them and slowly sank my spoon into my slice of pie.
This was awkward.
Both the conversation and the fact I was here, witnessing it, trying to silently eat my pie like some kind of criminal.
Although, to be fair, I didn’t want my ice-cream to melt. A little bit melty was okay, but not like sauce. That, too, would be awkward.
“I’m only pointing it out,” Esme said. “You’ve changed quite a lot since Ellie arrived.”
I slowly put the pie in my mouth and licked it off the spoon.
“Don’t blame this on Ellie.”
Yes, please don’t blame this on Ellie.
