Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The Bakery
“Hi, Poet,” Gracie said from behind the counter at Sweet Teeth. Her gaze tracked to my grandfather who stood next to me.
“Hey, Gracie. This is my grandfather, Jack.”
She reached over the counter to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Please, call me Jack.” He flashed an affable grin.
“Jack,” she repeated. “I thought you were in England on sabbatical.”
“My reputation precedes me,” he said.
“He came for an impromptu visit,” I said hastily.
“I see,” Gracie murmured, her gaze bouncing between us. “And he’s met—”
“Brooks, yes.”
There was a slight pause and then Gracie said, “We’re big fans of Brooks. And by we, I mean me.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Grampy’s lips. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.” Gracie nodded for emphasis. “He loves your granddaughter and makes her happy. And he bought her a safe car.”
“What more could a grandfather want, then?”
“Exactly.” Gracie beamed.
“They’re getting married in December,” Grampy said.
My gaze narrowed at him.
“A December wedding!” Gracie exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. “Oh, Poet. You’re going to look like a fairy princess!”
I smiled through a clenched jaw. “Yeah, can’t wait. Listen, I’ll have Hadley’s Hooch and a lemon poppyseed muffin please.”
“You got it,” Gracie said. “For you, sir—Jack?”
“Same.”
Grampy pulled out his wallet, but I waved him away. “Brooks has a tab for me.”
She plated two muffins and handed them to us as the barista began to fix our concoctions.
“Who’s making the cake?” she asked.
“Uh, you?” I guessed.
She beamed.
I turned and gestured to the farthest table in the corner. We sat down across from each other.
“Why did you do that?” I demanded.
“Do what?”
“You know what. Don’t play dumb.”
“You should want to tell people you’re getting married,” he said.
“I do want to tell people, but I’d like a moment to catch my breath, you know?”
He shrugged.
I peered at him. “Okay, what’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re acting kind of funny.”
Grampy leaned back against his chair. “These muffins look good.”
“Grampy.”
“You were right. About Brooks.”
I blinked. “Oh. Yeah, I know.”
He nodded. “He didn’t want to wait til spring to marry you.”
“It was his idea all along to wait until spring.”
He ripped off the muffin top and took a bite.
“Oh my God.” I gasped. “You both played me! Didn’t you?”
He swallowed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your muffin.”
“Forget the muffin! Brooks wanted to get married sooner rather than later, so you played good cop bad cop, didn’t you?”
A slow smile crept across his face. “How’d we do?”
“Evil.” I shook my head and let out a surprised laugh. “How did I not see that?”
“Well, you had a lot on your mind. Naturally. Besides, you don’t really want to wait until you’re what, seven months pregnant to get married, do you? You’ll want to be relaxing. Nesting. Weddings are stressful.”
“Yeah, and now you want me to plan one while I’m in the middle of opening a bookstore. Because that’s a good idea.”
“You’ll have help,” he assured me. “For both those things.”
My head whirled. “You pulled a fast one over me, didn’t you, Grampy?”
“I’ve got some tricks up these old sleeves,” he assured me.
“You sure do.” I chuckled. “So did you sleep okay?”
“Hmm? Oh. I slept fine. Jet lag, you know. I conked out fast. After the places I’ve slept, a couch is just fine.”
“Glad to hear it.” I finally plucked a piece of the muffin top off and took a bite. “You and Muddy make peace?”
He paused and then nodded.
“Good. That would make me feel terrible if you two were at odds.”
“We’re not at odds,” he assured me. “Poet.”
“Grampy.”
“I’m moving to Huckleberry Hill.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m moving to Huckleberry Hill,” he repeated.
“But, why?”
“What do you mean why?” He frowned. “You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re having a baby.”
“But teaching? You love to teach.”
“The high school needs a substitute history teacher.” He shrugged. “Seems my credentials are enough to satisfy them.”
“I left the Ridge last night at nine p.m. It’s seven-thirty in the morning, and you already have a job offer?”
“Small towns. Nothing like ’em.”
“Your car,” I said.
“I can have it put on a hot shot truck and on the road in a few days.”
“Are you selling the house in Bay Ridge?”
“No. The guest professor is going to take over my class schedule in the spring. He’ll rent the house. It’s all taken care of.”
“Where are you going to live?” I asked.
“I’ll move in with you,” he said easily.
My jaw dropped.
“Gotcha.” He grinned.
“Wow, are you hiding a pair of horns?” I asked with a chuckle.
“There’s a house in town for rent a few blocks from your apartment. Cute little place.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” I murmured. “And you didn’t want to discuss this with me first?”
“Like you discussed your major life changes with me?”
I sighed. “Call it even?”
He laughed. “Call it even.”
The barista delivered our drinks. I thanked her and then turned back to my grandfather.
He peered at the mountain of whipped cream on his drink. “What is this?”
“They made it up for Hadley when she stopped drinking coffee. They put it on a secret menu for those in-the-know.”
He lifted the mug and licked a dollop. “You’re in-the-know around here, are you?”
“Apparently,” I said. “You’re really moving here.”
“I’m really moving here. Gotta watch my great grand babies grow up, sweet pea. Between your DNA and your fiancé’s, I bet they’re going to get into heaps of trouble. You’re going to need me.”
“You’re right about that.” I lifted my mug in the air.
He raised his and we clinked.
“Now explain to me how the hell you fell into a mine shaft.”
“I’d rather talk about my bookstore,” I said.
“First the mine shaft, then the bookstore.”
I was dancing barefoot in the kitchen when Brooks opened the apartment door.
A smile bloomed across his face when he saw me. He set down the brown paper bag and his keys onto the counter.
I picked up my phone and paused the music. “Hi ya,” I greeted.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
I bounced toward him, the song still jiving in my head. I wrapped my arms around him. “Hello.”
He peered down at me and placed a kiss on my lips. “Hello.”
“You okay with spaghetti and meatballs?” I asked as he released me.
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “We’re not having dinner with Grampy?”
I shook my head. “Nope. He’s hosting poker night. No young people allowed.”
“No kidding,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s already got a poker night? He’s been here what? A week?”
“Ten days,” I said. “What’s in the bag?”
He pulled out a bottle of sparkling apple cider. “I sold the RV.”
“Yay,” I said with a wide grin. “It’s official. You have no place to run to when we get into a fight.”
I looped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes.
He bent his head down and captured my lips with his. His hands shook as he reached up to cradle my face.
Brooks kissed me with tenderness, with passion, with promise.
He dropped his hands from my face as his fingers went for the buttons on my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.
His grin was wolfish. “Burning the meatballs.”