"Thank you."
"But honestly, I don't see the appeal." She waves her other arm toward the windows in a grand gesture. "You don't even have a proper view."
The bathroom door opens, and Reese moseys into the living room. He stops at the other end of the sofa from us, and his gaze switches back and forth between me and Grams.
He's wearing nothing but a towel, slung so low on his hips that it seems like it'll fall off if he coughs.
Grams notices him---how could she not---and her brows lift. She rakes her gaze over him from head to toe, taking special notice of his towel and the bulge that's hiding underneath it. When she gets to his face, her lips kick up at one corner.
She looks at me. "Well, I believe I'm starting to see the appeal of this apartment."
Reese is looking at me like he wants to know what's going on.
"Um," I say, fumbling to get my brain in gear and stepping away from my grandmother. I point toward the half-naked elephant in the room and say, "Grams, this is Reese Dixon. Remember Chance, Elena's fiancé? Well, he's Reese's brother. Reese, this is my grandmother, Celeste Arnaud."
He strides across the room to shake my grandmother's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Arnaud. Arden has told me all about you."
"Call me Celeste." She holds on to his hand even when he tries to pull it away. "Arden has told me nothing at all about you, but I think I can guess why. Gorgeous and British. I bet my granddaughter isn't a virgin anymore."
"Grams!" I almost shout it, and the syllable ends on a squeak.
She waves a hand like she's dismissing my freak-out. "It's about time you crossed that bridge, darling. But I'm dying to know more about your new... friend."
Grams slides her gaze up and down his body again, and I swear to God she licks her lips.
I'm helpless to squelch my indignant tone. "Grams, for heaven's sake. A senior citizen shouldn't be ogling a hot young man. What would Granddad think?"
"Your grandfather knows I only want him. Why should he care if I window shop?"
Reese is grinning.
And my cheeks are on fire.
"I have a fabulous idea," Grams says. "Let's all go out to dinner at my favorite restaurant. I have a standing reservation with a table on hold for me anytime."
"Your favorite place is super swanky," I say, "and I don't have fancy clothes. I doubt Reese does either."
"We'll stop off at Armani on our way to the restaurant." She ogles Reese again. "I'm sure he'll look scrumptious in a designer suit."
Once Grams makes up her mind, there's no stopping her. I let her take us out for shopping and dinner. Reese puts on jeans and a T-shirt for the trip to Armani, but nobody in the ultra-chic store cares about what he's wearing. All the female employees vie for the chance to get Reese fitted for a suit.
Maybe I get a teensy bit jealous of those pretty, stylish babes fawning over him. Maybe. Just a smidge.
And damn, he really does look scrumptious in an Armani suit.
Over dinner, Grams and Reese talk. A lot. I sit there like a lump in a designer dress, not saying a word. Normally, I have no problem with jumping right into a conversation, but tonight I've become a mute. Grams can't resist teasing me and Reese with sarcastic and often suggestive comments throughout dinner. This is her way of being friendly with my new boyfriend. She keeps telling him how amazing I am too, which is kind of embarrassing.
When Grams drops me and Reese off at the apartment, she whispers in my ear, "I approve."
"Um... thank you?" I honestly have no clue what I'm supposed to say to that, and dumb words are all I can come up with.
"He's gorgeous, yes," she continues, "but he's also whip-smart. Just like you. It's a perfect pairing, like chardonnay and escargot."
"I hate escargot. Slimy little dead snails in my mouth? Ew."
"Fine, forget the snails. I'm trying to say you and Reese are perfect for each other."
She kisses my cheek, says "adieu" to Reese, and leaves.