I slammed the door shut, both physical and mentally blocking out whatever else she said. Flicking the lock in place, I leaned back against the stained wood, head pounding.
“For fuck’s sake,” I said, gaze heavenward. “God, if you’re going to punish me, that’s fine, I deserve it. But please don’t use the Crazy Old Biddy to do it.” I exhaled a ragged breath. “I am begging you.”
To my dismay, God didn’t answer.
But as usual, Grandmama did.
“I heard that!” she hollered, the rocking chair creaking as she stood. “Now get in the shower ‘fore I find the key and come give you a bath myself.” She chuckled. “On second thought, how about you—”
Without thinking twice, I moved.
A heartbeat later, I was beneath the water.
Showered and dressed, I descended the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the house. “Grandmama!” I hollered, moving through the foyer and toward the kitchen. “What are you still doing—”
Whack!
The second I stepped into the kitchen, my face was met with the bottom of an empty pizza box. Well, it was empty after a handful of uneaten crusts fell from the cardboard and bounced off the floor beneath my booted feet.
“I ought to tear your behind up!” the Crazy Old Biddy yelled, two feet from my ear.
Eyes watering and nose numb, I blinked. “What the hell was that for?”
Dropping the box to the ground, she tapped her foot against the hardwood and jabbed a pink-tipped finger into my chest. “You have three seconds to explain why you ain’t got no dagblasted food in the fridge. The only thing in there is a bag of moldy cheese that expired six months ago and a nearly empty jar of dill pickles.”
That’s what she was pissed about?
Fucking hell.
“Why were you in my fridge?” I inhaled, checking to see if my nose still worked.
“‘Cause, ya big ol’ dummy, I was gonna cook you breakfast while we had a little chat, but I can’t even do that when there ain’t an egg or piece of bacon in sight!” Lips thinned, she looked ready to pop me again. “What kind of Southerner are you anyhow?”
Eyes watering, I blinked. “What?”
“Bacon!” she fussed, tossing her arms up in the air. “You’re supposed to have that and at least two pounds of sweet cream in the fridge at all times! Haven’t I taught you nothing in all the years we’ve been neighbors?”
Exasperated, she grabbed a filled mug of coffee from the counter and pushed it into my hand. Hot liquid sloshed over the rim, burning me, but I didn’t react. If I did, she probably would’ve thrown the whole pot on me as fired up as she appeared to be.
The woman was more temperamental than a starved bear.
“You know what you need to whip your butt into shape?” she asked, fingers drumming the countertop. Not giving me a chance to answer—what else was new?—she kept yapping. “A dadgummed woman.”
At her words, thoughts of Carmen stirred.
“I swear, I’m gonna have to find you one. Don’t care if she’s uglier than sin on a Sunday either. The only thing that matters is that she’s more stubborn than an ornery ol’ mule and that she possesses the patience of the pope.” Pouring her own cup of coffee, she cut her eyes at me. “‘Cause let’s face it, you’re so frustrating you could make a preacher cuss.”
Lost in my head and only halfway listening to what was being said, I rubbed my palm across my stubble-covered jaw. “My pretty little pixie is stubborn,” I mumbled, not realizing I was speaking aloud. “And feisty.”
At least, not until Grandmama swung her head my way, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. “What did you just say?”
Shit…
“I didn’t say anything,” I lied through my teeth. “Hearing aid batteries must be getting low and causing interference.” I was just messing with her. Grandmama didn’t wear hearing aids. She may have been older than the hills, but she could hear as well as a bat. “Better get that fixed before you start picking up all kinds of stuff.”
Smiling from ear to ear, she skittered to the table and sat down. Pointing to the seat across from her, the one that had always been Hendrix’s, she demanded, “Sit on down now. It seems we’ve got some catching up to do.”
Knowing the only thing I’d catch was hell if I didn’t do as she said, I plopped down in the only other chair and placed my steaming mug on the wooden table separating her from me.
“So,” she said, giddy with excitement. “What did you say her name was?” Her smile grew. “And when do I get to meet this nice young lady?”
I forced a smile. “I didn’t say her name.” I wouldn’t either, because knowing Grandmama she’d go looking for her. “As for you meeting her, I’ll get right on that the moment Satan starts serving ice water to every resident of hell.”
She growled in return and raised her middle finger, flipping me right off. How ladylike. “That ain’t right, and you know it!”
A smart-ass comeback danced on the tip of my tongue, but instead of slinging it her way, I took a sip of my coffee. “It’s complicated.”
“In what way?”
“In the way where she threatened to kill me.”
A slow whistle filled the room. “Sounds like my type of girl.”
That was the damned truth.
Carmen and Grandmama wouldn’t just get along if they ever met, they’d probably become partners in crime who ended up tag-teaming me when I pissed them off. One could gut me with her knife, while the other beat the crap out of me with her prized flyswatter. That’s if the Crazy Old Biddy didn’t shoot me first.
“So why ain’t she here? If you don’t wanna bring her home ’cause you live in a pigsty, I can help with that. Just let me go grab my mop and washing powders,
