Bad Boy's Revenge: A Small-Town Romantic Suspense by Sosie Frost Page A

was on duty at the station, hiding behind a hunting magazine. I passed him the plate of chocolate chips and accepted his canonization of my sainthood.
    Granddad’s door was closed. I gently rapped on the frame. He grunted, and it was about the best we’d get. He acted like he wanted to smile when he saw me, but Granddad rarely allowed it anymore. Said the oxygen tubes made him look more machine than man.
    He looked like the same man I remembered. My loving, wonderful grandfather—just a bit older, just a bit frailer, but he was still there.
    Somewhere.
    “Hey, Granddad,” I said. “I was in the neighborhood.”
    He reached for the remote. For a second, I thought he might turn off the TV. At least he lowered the volume.
    “How are you feeling?” I took the seat next to him. Was it possible his hair grayed even more in the few days since I saw him last? “The nurses said you had a bad night?”
    “Every night is bad, Jo-Jo.”
    His voice rasped. The coughing started. They must have cranked the oxygen up for him—hell, I heard the air hissing through the tubes. His lungs were bad before the fire, but I didn’t know how much smoke and debris he inhaled while he was trapped inside.
    “Is there anything I can get for you?” I pulled my phone, prepared for a list. “I’m out and about today. I can go to the store, get you some popcorn or a soda or…”
    “I’m fine.”
    He didn’t sound fine. The words were curt, bitten. Not at all how he used to talk to me. Hell, Nana would have slapped him across the face if he ever took that tone with either of us.
    But Nana was gone, had been since I was thirteen. I was glad she didn’t see him like this.
    “Know what I miss most about the shop?” I asked.
    I tucked my feet under me, settling in. Granddad grunted. He hated when I talked about Sweet Nibbles, but the doctors said it was good for him—something that might draw him out of the depression.
    “Remember that picture that used to hang by the register?” I said.
    “No.”
    “Yes, you do. It was the one when I was little. Me on the counter, you and Nana behind me. She was handing me that ridiculously huge ice cream cone. Four scoops and they were all toppling.”
    “Five scoops.”
    I smiled. Granddad rubbed his face, his dark hands trembling as a rickety cough shuddered through his chest. He whooped a few times, and I handed him the little cup of water on his nightstand.
    “I wish I had that photo,” I said. “I miss Nana. I’m starting to forget what she even looked like.”
    “Look in the mirror.” Granddad didn’t take his eyes from the television. “You’re her, fifty years ago. Same cheekbones. Same lips. Hell, you scold me the same goddamn way. Think I’d get any peace after working a long day? Nah. Your Nana would find me after work and drag my keister home for dinner every night.”
    I nodded, though I knew the real reason Nana was grabbing him for dinner. So did the rest of the town. Granddad was a good man, an honest man, but he had liked to drink.
    And he really loved to gamble.
    Too much.
    “So…did you ever decide if you wanted to sell your electrical business?” I pretended like the option hadn’t weighed on my mind. “We might be able to get some money from it. We could sell the client list.”
    “To who?”
    I picked at a fraying bit of string on my sleeve. “Maddox.”
    “That trouble-maker’s in jail.”
    “He got out.”
    “What?” Granddad turned, catching his hands in his oxygen tubes as he pointed at me. “You stay away from that boy.”
    “You took him in as your apprentice.”
    “Yeah, because I thought he was going to get you in trouble.”
    “Granddad.”
    “Don’t you Granddad me. That boy is dangerous.”
    “He didn’t cause the fire.”
    “Don’t be so sure.” The cough bent him in two. “His family ain’t no good. His sister is a known woman. His friends in the city don’t have a dollar between them that they haven’t stolen from someone’s