Devil's Kiss (Hellhounds Motorcycle Club Book 1) Read Free Page A

Why?”
     
    “You just seem a little quiet this evening, that’s all.”
     
    I never could hide anything from her. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long week.”
     
    “I keep telling you, working all hours of the night isn’t good for you.”
     
    “I get eight hours of sleep every night, just like everyone else,” I pointed out, again. I just didn’t get up until one or so in the afternoon.
     
    Granny sniffed. She was one of those that thought sleeping until six was sleeping in. “So you say. You didn’t go to school just so you could tend bar all night.”
     
    I snickered. We didn’t have this conversation every week, but we had it often enough. “I know. But I’m making good money. You worry too much.”
     
    She smiled at me and I could feel the love pouring out of her. “I’m your grandmother. That’s my job. Come taste this and tell me what you think.”
     
    “Why? You make the best jambalaya of anyone.” I took the spoon and tasted. “It’s different. Not as spicy. What happened?”
     
    “Esten. He complained that the last couple of times I made it that it hurt him.”
     
    “Grandpa? I thought he liked it hot.”
     
    Granny smiled as she gave the pot another stir before whacking the spoon on the side to clean it. “He does. But I don’t think it likes him anymore.”
     
    “Oh phooey. He’s just getting old,” I scoffed as my lips twisted up in a grin. “What’s he going to do, start eating baby food?” The moment I said that, I felt myself flush.
     
    Granny laughed. “I don’t think we’re to that point yet. But just you wait. One day, you will be just like us. You’ll see. I can remember my mother saving tin foil. I always thought that was silly… but now I’m doing the same thing.”
     
    “What can I do to help?”
     
    “Nothing. You can get the glasses ready in a few minutes, but until then, we are just waiting for it to get done. Why don’t you go watch TV with your grandpa?”
     
    I grinned. It wouldn’t matter if Granny was preparing a twelve-course meal, she didn’t like anyone meddling in her kitchen while she was cooking.
     
    “Okay. Are you going come, too?” I teased, though I already knew the answer.
     
    “Football? I would rather watch the pot boil.”
     
    ***
     
    As we ate I could feel Granny’s eyes on me. I swear, I didn’t know how she knew, but she could always tell when something was bothering me. Grandpa? He was oblivious, but it’s like Granny had radar or something.
     
    We ate and talked. Granny talked about family and neighbors, who was doing what, and so on. Grandpa and I talked a little about the Saints. I didn’t care much for football, or any other sport for that matter, but he helped me stay current so I could talk sports to clients if I needed to. He made it easy for me. I just repeated everything he said, his opinions becoming my own, and it made him happy that he had someone to talk to since Granny couldn’t care less.
     
    I was just scraping the last of my dinner from my bowl when Grandpa announced he was full and pushed back from the table. He moved back to the living room where he turned on the television, the roar of an excited crowd pouring from it. He was kind of old school and believed that picking up his place after eating was women’s work.
     
    “It was good,” I said again, though to be honest, I didn’t like the new toned down version as well as her old recipe.
     
    “I’m glad you liked it,” she said as she rose and began to gather the dishes. I stood and began to help. Her back was too me as she rinsed bowls before placing them in the dishwasher. “Are you sure nothing is bothering you?”
     
    How did she know? “No. I’m good.”
     
    “You’re not having money trouble are you?”
     
    I rolled my eyes as I carried the serving dish from the table back to the stove. “No. Nothing like that,” I said as I dug in the cabinet for plastic storage containers. The jambalaya might not have been