Page 10 of Festive Faking
Okay, then. I kinda figured she wouldn’t be willing to share the bed, but a guy could hope.
Stepping over to the loveseat, I eyed the length before dropping onto it and stretching my body across the cushions. My neck was bent at a weird angle along one armrest, and my knees got hung up on the other, with my feet dangling over the side. That wouldn’t work.
“The floor, it is,” I declared upon standing. “Am I allowed to ask for the bare minimum of blankets and a pillow?”
Aspen stomped across the hardwood floor, reached into a free-standing basket in the corner near the bed, and tossed the requested items at me. I easily caught them mid-air, which only seemed to annoy her further.
Huffing, she moved toward her suitcase, ripping it open so violently that I worried she’d break the zipper.
Clutching a pair of flannel garments to her chest, she mumbled, “Swear to God, if you say something about sleeping naked . . .” as she slammed the bathroom door.
Yep, this was gonna be a fun week.
The minute we stepped inside the main house the following day, for what Aspen described as a marathon cookie-baking session, a voice called out, “Well, I’ll be . . . I think she found a straight one this time!”
“Meemaw!” Aspen screeched, her face going bright red.
The elderly lady in question was not at all ashamed as she openly perused my body from head to toe.
Leaning into it, I stepped closer to where she sat on the couch and bent down to take her hand in mine. “You’ve got me nailed. I’m a sucker for a beautiful woman.” I tossed her a wink before shifting my gaze to the girl I was pretending to be madly in love with. “Aspen, why didn’t you tell me you got your good looks from your grandmother?”
A smirk crept onto my lips at the way she glared at me, her jaw clenched so tight I could hear her teeth grinding from across the room. This stiff-as-a-board routine wasn’t going to fool anyone. She needed to lighten up.
Meemaw, on the other hand, ate that shit right up. A hint of pink crept onto her pale cheeks, and she pressed a hand to one as she blustered, “Oh, well, you can call me Meemaw like the rest. You hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I drawled.
“Ooh, and manners too?” She twisted her head so she could speak to Aspen. “You hold onto this one, girl.”
Aspen’s features relaxed, and she ducked her head. “I’ll try.”
My throat grew tight, knowing she wouldn’t try. She couldn’t wait to be rid of me after this week was over. I wouldn’t put it past her to send me her portions of our joint projects digitally from this point forward.
Removing my hand from Meemaw’s, I rubbed over the ache in my chest as it sank in that I’d likely never see Aspen’s face again after graduation.
I shuddered, picturing a life in which Aspen Sullivan wasn’t a constant presence.
“You cold, boy?” Meemaw eyed me with concern before hollering, “Jett! Turn up the heat!”
Jett called back from somewhere deep within the house, “It’s plenty warm, Ma! I’m sweating my ass off with the ovens running!”
“Mac’s from California, born and raised,” Aspen explained to her grandmother, walking closer to where I stood. “He didn’t think to bring a coat.”
“Well, that won’t do. We’ll have Tripp lend you one of his while you’re here,” Meemaw declared with a firm nod.
“Much appreciated.” I tipped my chin.
She placed her bony hand on the couch cushion beside her. “Now, you sit your butt down and tell me all about yourself before we see what kind of skills you bring to the kitchen.”
Aspen snorted as I took a seat, and I quirked an eyebrow, daring her to toss a snarky remark about how I probably didn’t know how to boil water having grown up in a house full of staff.
Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.
I beamed at Meemaw. “I’m an open book. What would you like to know?”
“Aspen’s already let it slip where you grew up, so why don’t you tell me about your family? You can tell a lot about a person by how they were raised.”
Oh boy.
