Page 8 of Making His Move

“He’s coming here?” Her wide eyes shift back and forth from me to the door as if she’s expecting an escaped convict to come crashing in. She’d deny it to her grave, but deep down, she’s a snob. I know she disapproves of my crush because whenever I bring Ford up, she finds a way to change the subject.

This isn’t news. Holly has no reason to act surprised. I told her about Ford’s email late Sunday night. A day after my move, he emailed me and told me he’d accidentally forgotten a box of books on his truck and wanted to deliver them that afternoon. Sunday wasn’t good for me, and I asked him if he was available today. He said he’d make time.

As much as I was dying to see him, my parents were expected to return from Europe last Sunday morning, and I was under the impression they’d pop by to see my new place. Six days later, I’m still waiting to hear from them.

This isn’t a case of missing persons. We know they’re alive. According to my grandfather, they asked him for an injection of money two days ago and plan to extend their time in Portugal until Christmas. No one enjoys rejection, but it’s what I’ve come to expect.

“What will your grandmother say?” Holly tries her best to make me question my decisions.

“Her grandmother is looking forward to meeting that gorgeous man, sweetheart.” My grandmother sashays into the kitchen, sipping wine and trying her best to embarrass me. She’s an incurable flirt. “When Wren told me he was dropping by, I hopped in the shower and dolled myself up. It’s not often a lady is in the company of a gentleman like that.”

“Nana!” My cheeks heat as I watch her sway to the music coming in from the living room. My grandfather gave me his mid-century record player cabinet with a built-in wet bar. It’s more than sixty years old and plays like brand new. My grandmother arrived thirty minutes ago with a crate full of her favorite James Taylor records, and she’s been dancing ever since.

“Loosen up, sweetie. I’ve watched the front door surveillance video from last week’s move multiple times. Dear Lord, those men got me so hot and bothered. Your granddad is still recovering.” Nana overshares, confessing secrets that should remain hidden.

Holly’s lips tighten with concern, her eyes narrowing as she pours herself a glass of cabernet and stews. “It’s a bit suspicious that he conveniently forgot a single box. Don’t you think he did it on purpose? He was probably looking for an excuse to come back.”

My grandmother’s gaze meets mine, and her eyes grow as wide as saucers. I know that look. She’s stunned, appalled, and shocked to her core. There’s nothing worse than a snob, and I’m embarrassed she had to see my friend at her worst.

Nana’s always been more concerned with the size of a man’s heart than the thickness of his wallet, and that’s precisely how she raised me to be. She may have married a billionaire, but she grew up in Queens and met my grandfather working behind the counter at Bloomingdale’s. There was no internet or social media in the 1960s. She’d never heard of Franklin York and had no clue he came from money. He stole her heart by showing up every day at the end of her shift and walking her to the tiny apartment she shared with her sister, to keep her safe. I know that story by heart because they repeat it on their wedding anniversary every year.

Holly doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. Every decision she’s ever made has been scrutinized by her social-climbing parents. Sometimes it’s hard to shake off that level of conditioning and return to the real world.

“I should hope so,” Nana declares, sipping her wine while she gives Holly an icy side-eye glance. “If he wants my granddaughter, I expect him to use every skill and resource available. If a little trickery works, then I cosign his efforts.”

I smile, stifling a laugh to prevent this awkward moment from worsening. “Ford is simply returning my books. It was probably an honest mistake, but if it gives me another chance to see him, then it was worth living without those books for a week. I’d read most of them already anyway.”

“What are you cooking?” Holly’s expression softens with a hint of remorse. She watches me shred a fresh block of Parmesan cheese, then sneaks a peek at the homemade sauce simmering on the stove. “Did you invite him to dinner?”

I hesitate to answer, unwilling to listen to a lecture about my incompatibility with Ford. However, it’s difficult to ignore her when she’s hovering behind me. “No, I didn’t invite him—”

Nana cuts me off. “It was my idea. When he stops by, she’ll invite him inside. They’ll chitchat, and after a few minutes, he’ll smell the food. At that point, she can tell him she’s having a quiet dinner alone and ask if he wants to join her. Unless he’s a fool or a tease, he’ll say yes. If he says no, we’ll have our answer and move on with our lives.”

“Who iswe?” I question her pronouns, wondering how this became a threesome.

Nana dismisses me with a wave and tops off her glass of wine. “I’ll be here in spirit, sweetheart. You know how much I love romance.” She lifts her wrist and glares at her watch, squinting tightly because she forgot her glasses.

“Heavens! It’s nearly time. Holly, grab your purse. My driver and I will drop you off on our way home. Wren needs privacy,” she huffs and deposits her wine glass in my sink.

Holly refuses to budge, digging her heels in as Nana tries to nudge her toward the door. “Don’t you want to meet him? Aren’t you worried about leaving him alone with your granddaughter? What if something happens?” Her hysteria is getting on my nerves. She doesn’t know anything about him and assumes he’s shady because he works a blue-collar job. That’s one of the things I love about him. No, notlove. Ilikeabout him.

Settle down, Wren. You’ll scare him away.

Nana scoffs and marches into the front room, dragging Holly with her. “Not at all. My husband ran background checks on everyone employed at his company, and Ford Shaw had impeccable credentials and references. He served in the military for over a decade and was awarded a Silver Star for bravery. Franklin was incredibly impressed. He always wanted to serve, but his father wouldn’t hear of it. Besides, Wren has several stun guns strategically placed all over this house.”

My ears perk up as I rush to join them. “Silver Star? You didn’t tell me that,” I gush with pride over a man I hardly know. He’s so brave and heroic. I should have known he was selfless too.

“Because that’s for him to tell you. I shouldn’t have said so much. Have fun, darling. Be good.” Nana leans forward and plants a kiss on my cheek.

Holly waves, her expression growing tense as they approach the door. “Someone’s here,” she announces, instinctively reaching for the doorknob. She turns the handle and swings it open. She releases an audible gasp and steps back into Nana, whose eyes are as wide as hers.

“Hello, I’m Ford. Is Wren here?”

“Hi, Ford. I’m Theresa Franklin, Wren’s grandmother. It’s lovely to meet you.” My grandmother peers over her shoulder at me and winks. “Wren is here. Please come in and set that down—that box looks heavy.” She clears the way and allows him to walk in.

“Hi, Ford.” I lick my lips and offer a silly wave, struck stupid by his beauty. He's wearing blue jeans and a tight red pullover shirt, accentuating every rippling muscle on his tall frame.

“Hi, Wren.” He greets me with a husky whisper that makes my thighs clench, and my core flutter with anticipation.

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