plate while Nana poured the coffee into thick blue and yellow mugs.
"Mel was kind enough to let me move in with her a couple years ba ck," Nana said. She joined Chris at the table, sitting in her usual chair by the window. "I used to live in one of those retirement places in Florida, but I hated it. Nothin' but a bunch of hypochondriac old fogeys down there." She bit into a chocolate-iced doughnut and hummed her appreciation.
Melanie sat down and stole glimpses of Chris over the edge of her mug as she sipped her coffee. He carried on an easy banter with Nana, telling her about his three married sisters and his younger brother. He genuinely seemed to enjoy her company.
Melanie hadn't dated much since breaking off her engagement to her philandering ex- fiance over a year ago. In fact she'd gone on exactly three dates, all of them disasters, all forced on her by well-mean ing friends. Aside from the fact that she hadn't wanted to date those men in the first place, her biggest problem with them was that they all objected to Nana.
None of them had spared Nana more than a quick hello. Melanie’s ex-fiancé Todd had treated Nana politely but the fact that she lived with Melanie had been a bone of contention between them. As far as Melanie was concerned, Nana was not only her roommate, she was her best friend. And if you didn't like Nana, then the heck with ya.
But that didn't seem to be the case with Chris. He and Nana were yakking away like they'd known each other for years. His smile and easygoing manner certainly seemed genuine. He couldn't really be such a nice guy, could he? All that male pulchritude and nice? Nah. Impossible.
He laughed at something Nana said, and Melanie shook her head in wonder. If he wasn't nice, he was doing a damn good imitation of it. Darn it! He had to be a creep. She wanted him to be a creep. She needed a reason to tell him to get lost so her hormones would sit down and shut up.
He and Nana burst out laughi ng again, and Melanie swallowed a groan of dismay. Her common sense told her this was bad. Exceedingly bad. Her hormones broke out into a rousing chorus of "Our Day Will Come."
"Did you say something, dear?" Nana asked.
Melanie blinked out of her reverie. "Huh?"
"You were mumbling. Something about hormones." Nana peered at her over her bifocals. "Are you okay? You look flushed."
Melanie grabbed a doughnut. "I'm fine. The coffee's making me hot." Yup. The coffee's making me hot. That was her story and she was stickin' to it. She wasn’t wondering what he looked like naked at all .
They polished off the doughnuts in record time. Chris helped load the dishwasher, a gesture that sent Nana into a near swoon. When they finished cleaning up, Nana enfolded Chris in one of her famous bone-crushing hugs. "Any man who brings doughnuts and loads the dishwasher is okay in my book. You're welcome at Casa Gibson anytime, young man." She turned to Melanie and said in a whisper that probably the neighbors could hear, "Don't let this one get away. He's a real honey. Great legs, too." She patted her frizzy hair. "Well, I'd better go fix myself up. See you young folks later."
Melani e breathed a sigh of relief and pretended her cheeks weren’t on fire. Five more minutes and Nana would be hinting about something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.
Chris leaned his hips against the gleaming granite countertop. "Your nana is quite a character."
Melanie's hackles rose. No one insulted Nana and got away with it. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Character? What's that supposed to mean?"
He held up his hands in surrender. "No need to evil-eye me. It means I think she's great. Very funny. I like her a lot.”
She uncrossed her arms. Drat. He liked Nana. Didn't think she was a pest. And Nana obviously liked him. Why couldn't he have said what her last date said? Something insulting to the effect that Nana was a crazy old bag. Then she could have sizzled him with a
"Mel was kind enough to let me move in with her a couple years ba ck," Nana said. She joined Chris at the table, sitting in her usual chair by the window. "I used to live in one of those retirement places in Florida, but I hated it. Nothin' but a bunch of hypochondriac old fogeys down there." She bit into a chocolate-iced doughnut and hummed her appreciation.
Melanie sat down and stole glimpses of Chris over the edge of her mug as she sipped her coffee. He carried on an easy banter with Nana, telling her about his three married sisters and his younger brother. He genuinely seemed to enjoy her company.
Melanie hadn't dated much since breaking off her engagement to her philandering ex- fiance over a year ago. In fact she'd gone on exactly three dates, all of them disasters, all forced on her by well-mean ing friends. Aside from the fact that she hadn't wanted to date those men in the first place, her biggest problem with them was that they all objected to Nana.
None of them had spared Nana more than a quick hello. Melanie’s ex-fiancé Todd had treated Nana politely but the fact that she lived with Melanie had been a bone of contention between them. As far as Melanie was concerned, Nana was not only her roommate, she was her best friend. And if you didn't like Nana, then the heck with ya.
But that didn't seem to be the case with Chris. He and Nana were yakking away like they'd known each other for years. His smile and easygoing manner certainly seemed genuine. He couldn't really be such a nice guy, could he? All that male pulchritude and nice? Nah. Impossible.
He laughed at something Nana said, and Melanie shook her head in wonder. If he wasn't nice, he was doing a damn good imitation of it. Darn it! He had to be a creep. She wanted him to be a creep. She needed a reason to tell him to get lost so her hormones would sit down and shut up.
He and Nana burst out laughi ng again, and Melanie swallowed a groan of dismay. Her common sense told her this was bad. Exceedingly bad. Her hormones broke out into a rousing chorus of "Our Day Will Come."
"Did you say something, dear?" Nana asked.
Melanie blinked out of her reverie. "Huh?"
"You were mumbling. Something about hormones." Nana peered at her over her bifocals. "Are you okay? You look flushed."
Melanie grabbed a doughnut. "I'm fine. The coffee's making me hot." Yup. The coffee's making me hot. That was her story and she was stickin' to it. She wasn’t wondering what he looked like naked at all .
They polished off the doughnuts in record time. Chris helped load the dishwasher, a gesture that sent Nana into a near swoon. When they finished cleaning up, Nana enfolded Chris in one of her famous bone-crushing hugs. "Any man who brings doughnuts and loads the dishwasher is okay in my book. You're welcome at Casa Gibson anytime, young man." She turned to Melanie and said in a whisper that probably the neighbors could hear, "Don't let this one get away. He's a real honey. Great legs, too." She patted her frizzy hair. "Well, I'd better go fix myself up. See you young folks later."
Melani e breathed a sigh of relief and pretended her cheeks weren’t on fire. Five more minutes and Nana would be hinting about something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.
Chris leaned his hips against the gleaming granite countertop. "Your nana is quite a character."
Melanie's hackles rose. No one insulted Nana and got away with it. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Character? What's that supposed to mean?"
He held up his hands in surrender. "No need to evil-eye me. It means I think she's great. Very funny. I like her a lot.”
She uncrossed her arms. Drat. He liked Nana. Didn't think she was a pest. And Nana obviously liked him. Why couldn't he have said what her last date said? Something insulting to the effect that Nana was a crazy old bag. Then she could have sizzled him with a
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