13. Meddling Grandmother
Meddling Grandmother
Sheridan
Why didn’t I think that Viola could have ulterior motives? Because she seemed too sweet and sad.
Maybe you’re getting this all wrong. Viola might still think of this fully grown man as a child. I mean, you’d almost have to be blind with all those muscles and dark hair. He looks like a clone of Viola’s son Antonio.
Why isn’t this gym larger? I drag my feet as we walk across the room.
“You don’t have to walk that slowly for me,” Deacon whispers.
He’s got a bit of a limp, but is getting around better than I expected. “Couldn’t you have pretended it was harder to walk?”
“You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
Don’t I know it. Viola and her manly grandson are both watching me walk. It’s only slightly intimidating. The grandson seems familiar, but I can’t place him. “Nothing in my life ever is.”
Deacon stops. “What does that mean?”
“Are you okay? Do you need me to get crutches or a doctor for you?”
“Nice try. Answer the question.”
“No.” I stare him down for a minute before resuming my walk of torture.
“Most people are afraid of me.”
“Good for them.”
“Why aren’t you?”
That’s a good question. “Because a man who saves lives doesn’t waste them on something frivolous.”
“Just because I was wounded in action doesn’t make me a hero.”
I stop and turn to him. “Tell me you aren’t one.”
He blinks.
“Exactly. Now, unless you came up with a crazy plan in the last ten feet, I need to go meet a total stranger and fend off any advances he might make.”
Deacon chuckles. “You’re a nut.”
“For that, I’m just going to send you plain, boring chocolate chip cookies.”
“I like chocolate chip cookies.”
It’s hard not to roll my eyes.
We’re now too close to have a side conversation. Which means I should try to figure out where I know Viola’s grandson from. He looks so familiar. It feels like the memory is right there, waiting to be pulled out of my brain.
He’s just as fit as Deacon, but maybe a little bit leaner. He’s got an olive complexion and a face any sculptor would like to preserve in stone.
Where do I know him from?
“There you are, Sheridan. I was just telling my grandson Gabe that you cooked for him.”
Gabe…No.
It can’t be. “You’re Gabe Vincenti.” Why didn’t I realize who he was immediately?
Because who would have thought this superstar is actually someone’s grandson? Gabe Vincenti is standing in front of me…well, more like leaning heavily on some crutches in front of me.
Gabe Vincenti…
“You watch football, I take it.” He sounds just like he does on television.
Of course, he does. That’s his voice. “You can’t be born down south and not love football. It’s more than a law. It’s a religion.” Even in my house, where we couldn’t afford a television, we found a way to watch the game.
My brother and I would either watch through a window from a spot up in a tree or at a friend’s house. Not that I had many friends…
Pull yourself together. Gabe Vincenti doesn’t need some silly twit fangirling when he’s in pain. “It’s nice to meet you.” Wow, that almost sounded normal.
Gabe reaches out and takes my hand in his. It’s a nice firm grip. But his hand is massive, which is probably why he’s able to grip and throw a ball so well. They should include in his stats the size of a player’s hand.
I want to ask him who is going to replace him now that he’s out for the next season, but that would be more than a little rude. Manners are important.
Wait, I didn’t introduce him to Deacon. Do they know each other? They’re currently giving each other a stare-down. “Have you met Deacon?”
“No. We’ve passed each other occasionally.” The two men shake hands.
“I had just mentioned to Deacon that your grandmother brought you some amazing treats and thought he might join us.”
“Nonna always cooks enough to feed an army.”
***
“So then Tripod stole the entire brisket off the smoker. We still don’t know how he was able to do it without getting burned.
After he was done with his dinner, he went back and asked for some strawberry shortcake for dessert.
” I lean back on the plush dining room chair in Gabe’s suite, which is more like a large apartment with a lot more grab bars and wide doors for hospital beds and wheelchairs.
This single room is larger than the entire shack I was living in.
The table we’re sitting at is probably bigger than my car.
“Did they give it to him?” Deacon sets his fork and knife down.
Both men, it seems, really enjoy steaks, though the real star of the meal was the pastina.
“Of course they did. Then they adopted him. But Tripod didn’t like the idea of sticking with one family.
He needed options for dinner, which is how he became the town menace.
Here, I have a picture of him on my phone.
” I pull it up and hand it over to Gabe.
“That’s Tripod? No way.” He stares at it for a long second.
“Lemme see.” Deacon takes the phone and almost drops it. “No way. I thought for sure he was a big dog, like a German shepherd or a pittie. There’s no way this little ball of fluff got up on a smoker.”
“But he did. I told you Tripod is the menace of Beach Haven.”
Deacon’s face changes as he stares at my phone. Friendly smiles turn to something hard. “You got a message I think you’re going to want to see.”
Huh?
I take my phone from his outstretched hand.
Sheridan, I love you. Will you marry me?
“Not again,” I mutter to myself.
“What do you mean, not again?” Deacon snaps.
“What are you two talking about?” Gabe pauses with his fourth biscuit halfway to his mouth.
“Someone just proposed to Sheridan.”
“WHAT?” Viola’s spoon clatters into her bowl with a little splash. “I didn’t know you’re seeing someone.”
This would be the perfect excuse. “I’m not.
This is just a stupid prank. Every so once in a while, some idiot finds my phone number and asks me stupid questions.
” This is one of the dark sides to being an author.
People tend to think it’s funny to harass you like a celebrity even though you aren’t one.
“That doesn’t sound like a prank,” Deacon says.
“It is. It’s nothing. I mark it as spam and block the number.” Which is exactly what I do before shoving my purse into my purse. “Anyone have room for dessert?”
Gabe looks like he wants to ask more, but he says, “I’d love some.”
Viola jumps up and rushes over to the island, taking her and Gabe’s plates. He snatched the unfinished biscuit before she could throw it out. I take my bowl and reach for Deacon’s plate slowly. Grammie used to hate me helping her early on.
Deacon just gives me a smile, which is a relief. So far, neither man has been the quintessential temperamental sick person.
Would I be as easygoing if I were in pain all the time? Probably not. I’m really grumpy when I don’t feel good.
Viola sets the platter of blondies down in the center of the table, and I put a dessert plate in front of everyone.
A napkin would have been just fine with me. But I bet there’s a cleaner who’s scheduled to come in and do the dishes.
“Sheridan made these just for you.” Viola pushes the plate towards her grandson.
Oh, the machinations are strong with this one. I’m going to have to be careful.
Very, very careful.
“How did you end up here when you live in Beach Haven?”
Should I share? Why not? “A friend got married, and now we’re all helping throw her a massive reception in Silent Valley.”
Deacon reaches for a blondie as Gabe passes the plate around. “Silent Valley? Who is your friend?”
Why would Deacon care? “Dylan Oliva. She married this biker named Rogue.”
“No way. Tell me you weren’t part of that wild advanced bachelorette party?”
How did he know about that? “Are you a biker?”
Deacon nods. “Chaos is in my blood. Literally, my dad was one of the founding members.”
“No way.” Small world. “I was just there the other day. Tomorrow is the cake tasting.”
“You still didn’t answer my question. Were you at the party?”
I blush. “There are pictures to prove it. Though, to be honest, I can’t remember much after the third stop. But my hangover the next day was impressive.”
Deacon grins. “Pictures or it never happened.”
“No way.” I shake my head.
“You do know I have an in to acquire some, right?”
That means I need to go have a little chat with someone before any incriminating evidence can be sent anywhere. “What was your father’s name again?”
Deacon smirks and lifts a blondie to his mouth. “I don’t think I mentioned it.”
“It would be easier if you just told me.” The thing about authors is that we’re amazing at finding things out.
“Yeah, I don’t think I will.”
“Wait, if this friend of yours is in Silent Valley, what are you doing in Urbium?” Viola steps into the conversation.
“There was no way I was going to stay with the newlyweds, and I don’t think there’s a hotel there.” Not that I could afford one. “So a friend invited me to stay with her.”
“What’s your friend’s name? I might know her. We’re practically neighbors.”
Um…this is starting to feel like the third degree rather than visiting a sick person. To be fair, neither of these men is anything but a splendid form of the masculine physique, even a little damaged.
“This blondie is amazing.” Gabe gives me a smile of understanding. “Do you bake often?”
I could hug him for taking the pressure off. Not that I will. Kissing a random stranger was enough PDA for me to last a lifetime.
***
An hour later, we’re back on the helicopter on our way back to Urbium.
“Did you enjoy meeting my grandson?”
The little kid? “Yes. Though I still can’t believe he’s Gabe Vincenti.”
“Football isn’t the most interesting thing about him.”
I can believe that. “He seemed like a very nice man.”
“Would you like to come with me when I visit him again next week?”
Oh, the matchmaking! Why play games? “Viola, you do know I’m not interested in dating anyone?”
“Of course I know that. But your visit was the first time he spoke to anyone else since his parents dropped him off, other than medical staff. You got him talking to people again. It would make me so happy to see him trying to socialize a little bit, even there.”
Do I believe her? Maybe. “I’d be happy to.” Hopefully, I don’t regret saying that.