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“He doesn’t.” Luke motions toward a collection of chairs in the far corner where his grandfather is heading. “Most of the time. This place encourages independent living for some residents. There are apartments both in the main house and in complexes around the grounds. He likes the company.” Luke gives me a small smile. “And the attention. Take a seat.”
I lower to the chair opposite the old man, smiling when he winks at me cheekily. “I’m as strong as an ox.” He flexes his biceps at me, and Luke laughs, tugging his trousers up at the knee before sitting. “Has my grandboy told you yet that he has an unreasonable fear of spicy food?”
“He does?” I throw Luke an interested look, and he rolls his eyes dramatically, resting back in his chair.
“He does,” Bert confirms, nodding, his lips straight and serious.
“It’s not unreasonable,” Luke sighs.
“I’d say it’s pretty unreasonable to have a fear of spicy food.” I back up Bert, who claps his hands in joy.
“See,” he sings. “A big strapping man like you, scared of a few chilies.”
“I’m allergic,” Luke mutters.
“Allergic?” I ask, getting comfy in my chair.
Luke clears his throat and glances at his grandfather, which, in turn, has me peeking across to him too. The old man has a corker of a grin on his face. “Luke’s not allergic.” He links his fingers and rests them on his stomach. “Are you, Grandboy?”
I see the hollows of Luke’s cheeks dip from the bite of his teeth, and then he mutters something under his breath. I lean forward to try and catch it, but I can’t make out a word. Bert starts chuckling, though I know the old man couldn’t have heard Luke either. He’s sitting farther away from his grandson than I am, and not to be presumptuous, but I’m guessing his hearing isn’t as good as mine. “Pardon?” I move forward some more, eliminating the risk of missing it again.
Luke coughs and rushes his words, this time loud, but disguised by his fake splutter. Then he shifts in his chair awkwardly, and his grandfather bursts into rip-roaring laughter. I’m super intrigued now, smiling at Bert’s humor, despite not having a clue what’s so funny. But I need to know. “I didn’t catch that.”
On an over-the-top sigh, Luke looks straight at me and scowls. “I’ve never liked spicy food.”
“I thought you’re allergic.”
“He’s scared,” Pops pipes up.
“I’m not scared, I just don’t get it.”
“Not getting something is different than being scared of it,” I point out. Fair enough, I’m not a fan myself, but I wouldn’t run out screaming if I was presented with a hot curry. Sounds like Luke would.
“I picked a green chili out of my dinner once.” Luke looks away from me, and I smile, seeing how uncomfortable he is, telling me the reason behind his phobia. “And neglected to wash my hands afterward.”
“Oh no.” I slap a hand over my mouth. “You didn’t touch your eyes, did you?” I’ve never made the faux pas myself, but I know people who have and, apparently, it’s a hideous experience.
“No,” Luke grunts. “Worse.”
“Worse?” I question, while Bert continues to fall apart in his chair. What could be worse?
“I used the men’s room, and . . .” Luke pouts, flicking his eyes down to his crotch, and without thought, mine drop there too.
Realization dawns quickly. “No.”
“Yes.” Bert chortles. “Yes, he bloody did. The silly sod touched his todger after handling a chili, seeds and all. Had to cut his date short and rush to the emergency room when the tip broke out in blisters.”
“Oh my God.” I’m horrified, but more than that, I’m amused beyond amused. “You got blisters?” I fall apart with Bert, while poor Luke’s scowl deepens, and he fidgets in his chair.
“Yes, I got blisters. I’m allergic.”
“Poor boy didn’t get any action for months.”
“Pops,” Luke groans, disturbed.
“Well you didn’t, and for a man who got it as frequently as you, I’m surprised it didn’t kill ya off.” Bert wipes under his eyes. “And you couldn’t even polish the pearl yourself.”
I choke on thin air, my sides splitting with laughter as Luke shrinks in his seat in dismay. “It was very traumatic,” he grumbles.
“I bet.” I’m wheezing, struggling to grab air through my hysterics.
“And you ask me why I never bring my friends to meet you.” Luke laughs sarcastically, giving us both disapproving looks.
“Hey, boy, I’m doing you a favor. At least now Lo knows not to take you for spicy food on any of your dates.”
“Oh, we’re not dating,” I pipe up, getting my laughter under control and wanting to make that crystal clear. “We’re just—”
“Friends,” Luke finishes for me. “We’re just friends.”
“Pull the other one.” Bert shakes his head, completely exasperated.
“Friends,” Luke repeats, stern and sure, cocking his head to the side in warning.
Bert relents quickly on a frown. “Right. Friends.”
