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“Wait, isn’t Ellie your tenant at the lodge right now? The one you went on a date with?”
“That’s her. And it wasn’t a date.”
“And you’re reading her book?” He broke into a half-grin that was quickly followed up by a laugh. “Are you whipped?”
“No, shut up.” I laughed. “Grandma made me read it.”
“So you are whipped.”
“Watch your mouth, young’un. I remember changing your nappies.” Grandma walked over, wiggling a finger in Fred’s direction. “Well? Are you done with it? The book?”
I sighed and patted the top of it. “I am.”
“And?”
Great timing, Fred.
“It was… brilliant,” I admitted. “She’s a phenomenal storyteller, and I have some real grovelling to do the next time I see her.”
Fred chuckled. “You are so whipped.”
Grandma hit him with her book the way she had me earlier. “Oi. I’ve already made one aristocratic little sod read a romance book—you’ll be next if you don’t mind your attitude, Frederick.”
He dipped his yes. “Yes, ma’am.”
I covered my laugh with a cough.
Grandma shot me a look. “I’ll take my book back, thank you.”
I passed it to her.
“Would you like another one?”
“Perhaps some other time,” I said slowly. “Fred’s here.”
“What? And you don’t want to read romance in front of your best friend?” She glanced between us. “Real men read romance.”
“You should put that on a t-shirt, Esme,” Fred said.
“I can’t decide if you’re being honest or irritating.” Grandma sniffed, hugging her books to her chest. “Try not to cause trouble. I go to bed at eight these days.”
“Since when?” I asked.
“Since I stopped being your bloody taxi,” she snapped.
“You were up until midnight with the book club just a few days ago.”
“Stop ratting me out, Max. Don’t you know that snitches get stitches?”
Fred dropped his head, chuckling.
“I’m watching you, too, Frederick. Aren’t you here on business?”
He cleared his throat. “Only with Max. Otherwise, I’m here for a short holiday.”
“Definitely better than Coventry.”
“Grandma,” I grumbled.
