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“There’s an assortment of items in there from the restaurants and gift shops in town, including a bag of coffee grinds from the Cherish Café. There’s also a gift card from Sal’s Pizza and my favorite scented candle from Gifts and Bits.”
“Plus, Erin’s homemade cookies,” one grandma added.
Erin’s cheeks pinked adorably. “And my homemade cookies. We’re sorry for stopping by so early.”
“Some of us are,” the other grandma said with a salacious wink at Brock. “Some of us, not so much.”
“Liza!” Erin scolded, as if their ages were reversed.
The grandma that hadn’t creepy-flirted with him stepped forward and squinted at his face. “You’re awfully young looking for fifty-five.”
Brock cracked his first smile of the day. “Ah, yeah. I’m not. This is my pawpaw’s place. I’m in town from Nashville getting it set up before he arrives on Friday.”
“Oh,” Erin brightened, as if relieved Brock wasn’t staying. “What’s your pawpaw’s name?”
“Ben. Ben Bartlett. I’m Brock, by the way.”
“That’s nice,” Erin said with all the warmth of a wet blanket. What was her problem? “Where’s your pawpaw from?”
“Here, originally. But he’s lived outside of Nashville for the past thirty-plus years.”
“Your pawpaw is from Cherry Creek?” Liza the Lecher asked. “Erin’s grandmother is from Cherry Creek too. Born and raised.”
“Is that so?” Brock asked with the same icy veneer as his youngest guest.
“Yep.”
The way Erin popped her P told Brock all he needed to know. She didn’t like him. Not one little bit. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Other than waking him up earlier than he was ready to get out of bed, he’d never seen her before. “Well, maybe they know each other. Old friends from way back.”
“Maybe,” she said with her nose in the air.
“So,” he said, perking up to do his own point scoring. “You live here with your grandmother?” There was no mistaking the censure in his voice.
She visibly stiffened. “Yes, I do.”
“How …” He paused, pursed his lips, and tried his best to look bored. “Exciting.”
“Listen.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he mentally pumped his fist in victory. “I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but CCR has a posted speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour. We’d appreciate if you and your guests would abide by the law.”
Wow. She must have gotten up pretty early to shove that stick so far up her tailpipe. Brock straightened to his full height and puffed out his chest. “I’ll do my best.”
She fake-smiled at him and fluttered her long lashes. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
They stood facing one another, their eyes deadlocked. The grandmothers stood silent like a couple of slack-jawed spectators.
“You’ve made some changes,” the nervous grandma spoke up in an attempt to lighten the tension.
Brock hesitated before breaking eye contact with Erin. “Just a little updating. De-feminizing, if you will.”
“I love the changes.” Liza smiled up at him with adoration in her eyes. “So masculine. How old is your grandfather?”
Uh-oh. Pawpaw was in her sights before he’d even arrived. “He’s seventy-seven.”
“Is he in good health? Strong and”— she stroked her neck in a manner that made Brock want to take a shower—“handsome like his grandson?”
“He’s in good shape.” Brock took a deliberate step back. “Some say we favor.”
“Let’s hope,” Liza purred.
