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I have to swallow down the burning lump in my throat, but nothing is going to fix the burn in my chest and stomach. Nothing. How can I not get all burnt over the fact that this take-no-prisoners old lady clearly loves the shit out of her grandson? Her whole face is finally alive with it. So. Alive. Yup, I knew it. Hers is the kind of face that is made for emotion. It’s absolutely fearful and totally lovely all at once, bathed in the golden glow of the strong love she has for Smoke.
“I’ll remember that,” I whisper. “I promise.”
Mary nods. And because, nope, she can’t do anything normal or prescribed, she lifts her coffee cup up in the next instant and literally shouts the words—yes, shouts! “Congratulations! Yiiiiippppppeeee! I’m going to be a great-grandma. Hear that, everyone? Hear that, bisches? A. Great. Grandma!”
CHAPTER 6
Ransom
I can only imagine how bad the meeting was with Granny yesterday morning. I asked Ayana if I could make her dinner, just a casual thing, so we could talk more about the plan we were formulating, the plan being the future or the rest of our lives or something loosely defined as such. I wanted to give her some time and space after the whole Granny train. I’m hoping the train was nice and friendly, but I also know that the train can be hella-scary as it steams along full-blast down its granny tracks.
That granny train just about steamrolled right over me when I gathered her and my brothers together to tell her about the mild—okay, mega—hitch in our operation.
So, yes. I’m cooking up a storm now, sweating bullets because cooking is hard work but also because I’m afraid Ayana is going to show up and either tell me off, or tell me off and then prevent me from getting to know my own child because my granny is a raving psycho, or show up and tell me that she’s leaving the country and never coming back, going to a faraway place where my granny can’t find her, and I’m not invited. The best I can hope for is that Ayana blasts me for having an offensive and rude grandmother but tells me we can still work on things because her family also won’t like me. The worst-case scenario? Good gravy and mashed potatoes, which I haven’t had in a while—can you say cravings—I don’t even want to think about the worst-case scenario.
Don’t burn the pasta. Burning the pasta is amateur hour. Don’t be Alden the second. Don’t burn water. Okay, so it’s boiling all the water out such that the pot burns, but still. It’s kind of burning the water. Alden was a master at burning things in the kitchen; he was a menace. And I’m trying my very best to make everything perfect.
Twenty minutes later, I feel like the master of pasta. I’ve just rocked cooking the world’s best bacon carbonara. And, right on time, the doorbell rings. I let Ayana in, and when she immediately sniffs the air and grins at me, I know I’ve made the right choice.
“It smells beyond divine in here.”
“What’s beyond divine?” I ask as I take in her tousled dark curls that cascade over her shoulders like a lake churning with a midnight breeze, her lovely whisky-hued eyes set off with heavy black eyeliner and mascara, her lush lips painted a scarlet red.
She’s gone for a flowy black cotton sundress and a denim jacket, which surprises me. I didn’t think she was a dress kind of person. Of course, she’s paired it with her combat boots. Don’t stare at her legs. Stop. Knees are not supposed to be that sexy. Calves are indeed sexy, but stop looking. No, don’t go up to her thighs. Or linger on her waist. No, that’s not right either. Oh my god, up, up, get those eyes of yours up.
In the frantic war between my mind and my eyes, my dick is the winner. For the love of opossums, which are seriously cute, that just sounds awful. You know what else is seriously awful? Getting a hard-on when this is supposed to be a friendly dinner.
Wining and dining—of course, not the wine part right now—but also romantic-style dining is not on the menu. Bacon carbonara is on the menu. And a plan. Nothing more. So my dick? I’m just going to say he had better behave in the most growly mind voice possible, so growly that it reverberates off the inside of my skull walls, and leave it at that.
“Extra divine?”
“Hmm, extra divine.” I’ll take it.
Her eyes bore through me, and I think she totally noticed me checking her out because I bet it was ultra obvious with my slackened jaw and popped-out googly eyes, but she still gave me a smile and let me usher her into the small kitchen dining area where I’ve set the table.
