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Nana beamed. “Well, how about Toby helps me set the table? Clark, maybe you can make the salad while Hunter pulls the chicken out of the oven.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
While Hunter and Toby headed in the direction of the dining room and kitchen, she pulled me aside. “I didn’t know you were all so friendly already.”
“Well, Toby’s in my after-school program, and I’ve been helping him with some extra tutoring sessions at their house.”
“Have you?” Nana’s tone turned sly. “Then you’re in the perfect position to teach that man how to cook, among other things. I know he’s never been with a man, but it’s never too late to learn, hm?”
I choked on a shocked laugh. “Nana.”
“What?” Her eyes sparkled. “I’m old, not dead. I know all about the sexual appetites of men, dear, and that one looks at you like he’d be happy to eat you up.”
If only.
Wait, no. It was good Hunter wasn’t really into me. This was fake. It had to be. Regardless of my principal’s viewpoint, I’d vowed not to put myself in the position Alexa had.
Toby was my student, and Hunter was his father. I had to remember that and maintain a little objective distance, regardless of this game we played.
* * *
HUNTER
“Everything is delicious, Mrs. Fletcher.”
Clark’s grandmother smiled, preening under the praise. “Thank you, Hunter, but call me Nana—or Iola, if you must. Mrs. Fletcher is so formal, and we’re all friends here, aren’t we?”
I chuckled at her sly tone. “We are.”
Iola had spent the first part of the meal talking up Clark so much I thought the poor guy was going to spontaneously combust from all the blushing. His fair skin colored easily, and his embarrassment was almost painful to witness. If it weren’t for our mission tonight, I’d have taken pity and changed the subject, but we had a goal, and that goal involved setting Nana loose on her matchmaking endeavors.
“These biscuits are so good,” Toby chimed in. “I wish I could have them every day!”
Iola chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you’d get tired of them every day, but I can give your father the recipe. Better yet, Clark could help your dad make them!”
“Really?” Toby turned hopeful eyes to Clark. “Will you cook for my dad when you—”
He cut off suddenly, looking panicked, probably realizing he just about let the cat out of the bag. Telling Toby the plan was a bit of a risk. It was a big secret for a kid to keep, but there was really not an alternative.
“When I come over to tutor?” Clark filled in, covering for his slip smoothly. “We really should focus on your schoolwork, but maybe we can figure out another time once your dad has a stove.”
“Ah, yes,” Nana said. “If you need help picking out that stove, I’m sure Clark would be happy to go shopping with you.”
Clark sighed audibly. This was exactly what we wanted, but it wasn’t easy for him to be in the spotlight. This kind, anyway. He seemed to thrive when he was at the front of a classroom. It was charming, really, how modest he was despite being so deserving of praise.
“I don’t know, Nana,” I joked. “Stove shopping is a big step. I think he might need to buy me dinner first.” I winked, keeping it playful. I didn’t want to come across as too eager or Nana would suspect something fishy.
I didn’t need to worry though. She locked onto my words like a date-seeking missile.
“Hear that, Clark? The man wants you to take him to dinner,” she said.
“I heard, Nana…”
“Dad doesn’t get out much,” Toby added, flashing puppy dog eyes around the table. “He’s been so lonely. I bet dinner out would be really nice for him. And I can stay with Grandma and Grandpa while you go out!”
“Thanks a lot, Toby,” I grumbled.
I knew he wanted to help, but did he have to make me sound so pathetic?
