Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Oh, yeah? I bet you know plenty about round plastic things. Or maybe silicone is your specialty. Considering you have been riding that bed alone most nights.”
I sigh. “Some day, you’re going to figure out that my sex life isn’t a topic I want to dive into with my grandmother.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t want to dive into a topic like that–considering it’s about as deep as a kiddie pool. You’d wind up with a broken neck.”
I grin. “Caroline asked me to come check on the bed and breakfast. Are you doing all the stuff she asked you to do?”
Grams waves me off. “Hell, no. But I’m showing everybody a good time. Once this bullshit game is over, we’re going to get to the real stuff. Edgar has his favorite Bingo tape loaded up.” She leans in close. “But we know the winning numbers and pre-picked the cards. We’re about to clean this place out.”
“That’s…” I trail off. Telling Grams not to do something is never effective. I decide to save my breath and just let her be.
“So,” Grams continues. “You say you’re here to spy on me, maybe rat me out, huh? But, why are you really here? Wanted to watch your boyfriend choke on a bigger screen? Personally, I think he should go back to saving the choking for the locker room after games.”
I frown. “What?”
“On his teammate’s dicks?” she says, like the implication was obvious and I’m an idiot for not getting it. She also raises both fists and mimics pumping with her hands, turning her open mouth back and forth like she’s getting double teamed. I try not to think about why my Grams even has the muscle memory to pretend to do that.
“He’s not choking,” I say, feeling defensive. “It’s the NHL. Everybody scores.”
“Sure. Everybody scores but my granddaughter. You look like if you sneezed too hard you’d blow a ball of dust out of your cooch.”
I choke back a laugh. “Um. Wow. I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”
“Hmm,” Grams says, eyes back on the screen. “Anyway. I know choking when I see choking. Trust me. I’ve choked on enough things to know it when I see it. So, what’s up his ass?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say.
“No? You two don’t do butt stuff? Once you get over the stigma and the mess, it’s really a lot of fun. You know what I always say… The good lord wouldn’t have put a hole there if he didn’t want me to play with it.”
I frown. “First of all, you don’t ever say that. And second, there’s obviously a reason for that hole and it’s not so my Grams can play with it.”
Grams flashes her usual mischievous grin, then shrugs. “It’s always so easy to get you uncomfortable. Now that I’ve got you off balance, why don’t you just tell me everything that’s going on with you two? Did you break up? Are you wishing you could make it more serious?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Hah. You wish it wasn’t. I popped your mom out of my body. And she popped you out of hers. That means I brought you into this world.” She pauses, looks up, then shrugs again. “In a roundabout way, at least.”
“And you can take me out of it?” I ask sarcastically.
“You owe me,” she says, raising a finger. “Because if a time traveler came and took me out of this world, you’d go right along with me. And right now? I’d let that happen just to spite my ungrateful granddaughter who can’t spare a little bit of juicy gossip for her poor old Grams. Her poor, demented, stroke-ridden Grams,” she adds.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to tell, anyway.”
“Right,” she says. “Because it’s so complicated I couldn’t possibly understand, right?” She mimics my voice, or at least she tries to.
I smile a little, despite my annoyance. “It is complicated.”
“You just think it is. What’s the problem? You like each other but you can’t possibly be together for reasons? Am I warm?”
I flinch as I’m watching the TV. Nolan just barely deflected a shot and saved a goal. “Maybe,” I say.
Grams notices I’m distracted and takes my arm, leading me into the kitchen where it’s more quiet. She points to the table and sits me down. “Here,” she says. “Cookies. Everybody is willing to open up over cookies.” She sets a plate of cookies down in front of me with a clatter.
I grin. “Trying to pretend you’re a normal grandma, now? How do I know these aren’t poisoned?”
She picks one up and takes a huge bite, then tosses it roughly down on the plate again, eyebrows raised. “Happy?”
Reluctantly, I pick up a cookie and take a bite as Grams sits across from me. She waits, wrinkled chin resting on her knuckles.
“We were trying to keep it casual,” I say after a little while. “And at some point, I think I started imagining it was going to turn not casual if we kept it up. Like a natural progression.”