The truth was, he’d hoped to be in and out of town before she ever found out so that he wouldn’t have to go through the whole “kiss the ring” routine, but hell, he should’ve known that that was a fool’s hope. His grandmother knew every single little thing that happened in this town. She’d probably known he was here before he’d even rung Troy’s doorbell. There was only one thing to say, really. “Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled.
She clapped her hands together sharply again—her signature move. “Young man, stand up straight and look a person in the eye when you speak. I know you were raised better.”
He straightened up and spoke clearly. “Yes, Grandmother.”
She smiled brightly. “Luckily, you have a chance to make it up to me. Dinner. Tomorrow night. Troy and Mila will also attend.”
He shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m not sure if I can.”
She simply smiled implacably and replied, “Seven o’clock sharp.”
She turned and began to shuffle away, Armando trailing along at her side.
Damn. “Gran, I don’t know if I’ll still be here tomorrow night,” he called after her.
“Remember, Donovan. Seven o’clock sharp means 6:45. Don’t forget your manners, now!” was her only response.
Donovan turned to Troy. “Apparently we’re having dinner at Gran’s tomorrow night.”
Troy snorted. “As if that was ever in question.”