The Sweetheart Secret by Shirley Jump Page B

then the shuffle of his grandfather’s feet on the tile floor. “Is that my pizza?”
    â€œNo, Grandpa, it’s not. It’s . . .” Colt hesitated. How to describe Daisy?
Friend
didn’t fit, neither did
wife
.
Trouble
might be more apt, but that would open a door to questions that Colt didn’t want to answer. “Someone here to see me.”
    She glanced at the coffee cup shards. “Uh, is this a bad time?”
    â€œNo, no . . . it’s fine.” Colt started to step through the door and usher Daisy out onto the porch, when he saw a familiar hand grip the door frame above his head.
    â€œYou didn’t tell me this someone was a woman. Invite her in, boy, before someone scoops her up and you’re left holding nothing but your regrets in one hand and your Johnson in the other.”
    Daisy arched a brow and covered up a laugh. Colt rolled his eyes. “Grandpa!”
    Grandpa sidled around Colt’s side and stuck out a hand. “I’m Earl Harper. Colt’s grandfather. The friendlier Harper man.”
    Colt snorted.
    Daisy smiled, a smile that Colt knew could sock a man in the gut and leave him weak in the knees. “Nice to meet you. I’m Daisy. Colt’s—”
    â€œFriend,” Colt supplied. At least until he came up with a better alternative to describe their complicated, on/off relationship. Something with less than ten syllables.
    â€œFriend,” Daisy affirmed.
    Somehow, hearing the word coming from Daisy made his gut ache. Just friends was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Exes who remained on friendly terms, friendly enough to sleep together three months ago? Friendly enough that she lingered in his mind like a favorite song stuck on repeat? Or friendly enough that they’d send a Christmas card each year, maybe check in once in a while on social media?
    Yes,
complicated
was the word for it.
    â€œWell, come in, come in,” Grandpa said. “It’s been so damned long since we had any company here, I thought we were living on the moon. We’re having pizza, if you’re hungry.”
    â€œOh, I’m not staying long. I just needed to talk to Colt for a minute.”
    Grandpa waved that off. “It’s near supper time. Come in, have a few bites. I promise to be sociable, though I can’t say the same for my grumpy grandson.”
    â€œ
I’m
the grumpy one?” Colt said. And what was up with Grandpa Earl? Since when did he want company? Or make jokes? Maybe it was a diversionary tactic. To keep Colt from focusing on the canceled doctor’s appointment and the roughage revolution. “Grandpa, I think—”
    â€œWhy, would you lookie there. My pizza. Right on time.” Grandpa waved at a beat-up two-door Chevy jerking its way up the drive. A faded RAY’S PIZZA sign sat askew on the roof. “Give him a good tip, Colt, will you?”
    Colt reached for his wallet. It was either that or send the pizza guy away and right now, that was a battle Colt didn’t want to have. Grandpa had stopped throwing coffee cups and that was reason enough to relent on the pizza. “Seems my grandfather is sticking me with the bill for his dietary indiscretions.”
    Daisy grinned. “As far as indiscretions go, I’d have to say pizza is a pretty inexpensive one. Don’t you agree?”
    Something went hot in Colt’s gut. Hotter than any pizza the pimply kid coming up the walk was holding. A few words, and he was rocketed back to the night in the hotel with Daisy, when he’d forgotten his life, his responsibilities, and most of all, his reasons for walking away all those years ago.
    He cleared his throat and reminded himself there’d been more than one reason why he and Daisy didn’t work outside the bedroom. “Depends on who’s footing the bill.”
    â€œFor God’s sake, quit your chatting and start your paying,” Grandpa shouted.