Page 87 of Running Winter

"Date?" Pops drawled from the back door, stomping his feet on the mat as he did. "Raven? Date?"

Nanna made a face at me before Pops peered around the door, his bright eyes searching me out. He grinned when he saw me, but his smile faded when he saw my scowl.

"Who's upset my Raven?"

"Lucas," Nanna sighed, nodding towards the front of the house. "He got Raven a bodyguard."

"What? Who?" Pops moved to the front of the house before he made his way back into me. "Is there a reason that young man is sitting outside?"

"Yes. He’s staff," I said curtly, examining my nails. I knew I sounded like a bitch; but I didn't care.

"Raven!" Nanna hissed with disapproval. "Staff are still human."

"What's he done to you?" Pops rubbed the back of his neck as he examined Leigh through the large window that overlooked the front lawn.

"Nothing. Except I had a date tonight with—"

"No dates, Raven, come on. You're seventeen and without a doubt the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Don't go breaking my heart, baby girl." Pops winked at me, pushing away from the kitchen counter. "I'm inviting him in. Behave."

"He is just doing his job, sweetheart. Let's hope you don't need him," Nanna murmured in my ear, a broad smile on her face as she watched my grandad approach Leigh’s bike.

Leigh was surprisingly receptive to whatever my grandad said because he jumped off the bike and followed him inside.

"We have spare rooms. You've got to when the kids drink as excessively as mine do. Sometimes they need to crash here and wake up to Nanna's good cooking. Speaking of which, this is my wife, Gretchen."

"We met earlier. Do you want that drink now?" Nanna had a way with brutes—she always had done.

"Yeah, thanks," Leigh mumbled, avoiding my eyes as he sat across from me.

My nanna was right—Leigh was good-looking, but after he had called me a kid earlier, I didn't pay him much attention.

He must only be two years older than me, my brother’s age. Tattoos covered his hands that didn't make any sense—a cross on one finger, a strip of lines on the other. A large bird of some kind dominated his left hand, and as though he didn't like me looking, he covered it with his other hand.

"Where are you from, Leigh?" Pops asked, sinking into his favorite chair.

"New York, Mr.Fallon."

"Call me Cal, Leigh," Pops was gazing at him with a strange expression, and Leigh waited patiently. "Are those prison tattoos?"

"Kinda. It was juvie, so you get the idea," Leigh explained, as Pops nodded.

"And just how did you get from there to protecting my granddaughter?"

"Well, Lucas offered me a job. My sister knows him. It just sorta worked out."

Pops nodded again, but this time I noticed his expression change. He must've known about Leigh.

"So you're the brother of my grandson's girlfriend?"

My gaze lifted with interest as Leigh shrugged. His eyes seemed to harden somewhat, and his jaw clenched as he nodded.

"Who’s the psycho bird?"

I was confused, but as usual, Pops knew more than I did.

I got up, bored of their conversation.

Pops would want to know every detail, no doubt.

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