Page 15 of Ain’t Pucking Sorry (2-Hour Quickies #8)

Reese

"Thank you for coming so fast," I say as Massimo enters the meeting room, his hair still windblown from the drive. Three hours from Dayton to Fairwick—he must have broken speed limits the whole way.

His eyes find mine first, a thousand unspoken words passing between us before he notices the four women seated across the table.

"What's going—"

Before he can finish, all four grandmas extend their hands simultaneously, wrists together.

"Put the cuffs on us," Ruthie says calmly.

"We're the ones you're looking for," Birdie adds.

Massimo freezes. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The bakery flood," Della explains, chin high.

"The library fire," Marge continues.

"The window at Jossie's," Ruthie says.

"And the mail mix-ups," Birdie finishes.

“Don’t forget the bumper to bumper,” Marge adds.

“There was no crime there,” Birdie corrects.

I've been sitting in stunned silence since they marched in, demanding to speak with both of us present.

"You?" Massimo looks between them. "All of you?"

"Every bit of it," Della confirms. "Not Jax. He's innocent."

"But his fingerprints—" I start.

"Were on cards I took from his backpack," Birdie interrupts. "I'm not blind, Sheriff."

The revelation hits like a thunderclap. Massimo's eyes widen as he drops into the chair beside me.

"You've been... faking blindness?" he asks.

Birdie shrugs. "You live alone for twenty years and see how many people offer to walk you across the street. Plus, no one suspects the blind woman."

"But why?" I finally manage. "Why any of this?"

The women exchange glances before Ruthie speaks, her voice suddenly serious. "We had the kind of love that changed our names and our hearts," she says. "Now we're old, and we watch people rush by… too busy or too scared to feel anything. We thought... maybe we could give them a nudge."

"A nudge?" Massimo repeats.

"Ellen and Tom," Marge says. "She didn’t date because she was too proud to admit she needed a man in her life. And he’s a good guy."

“And every good guy deserves muffins,” Ruthie adds,

"Is that what they call them now, 'muffins'?" Marge asks with a wicked smile, and they all laugh.

"The librarian and the fireman," Della continues. "Both too shy to make a move."

"Jossie and Daniel," Ruthie continues. "He'd never stopped by the coffee shop before, but aren't they a perfect match?"

"And the mail..." I begin, understanding dawning.

"Karla Abernathy and Bob Beemer were high school sweethearts," Birdie says. "They both moved back to town after losing their spouses, but neither knew the other was here."

"You were... matchmaking?" Massimo asks, incredulous.

"G.R.I.T.," Marge announces proudly. "Grandmothers for Romance Intervention and Tactics." She pauses for effect, then adds, "The cards were just good manners."

I look at each of them in disbelief. "You caused property damage to set people up?"

"Minimal damage," Della corrects. "It’s only money. How much is finding love worth?"

"The accident with the cars?" Massimo asks suddenly. "Was that you too?"

"Birdie's specialty," Ruthie says with a wink. "She has perfect timing for crossing streets slowly."

"My God," I breathe. "The entire time..."

"We've been quite thorough," Birdie says.

"Except Della, who forgot to leave the card at the coffee shop," Ruthie says.

"Like you don't forget to take your blood pressure pills," Della protests.

"She wouldn't forget if it was Viagra," Marge adds, and Ruthie high fives her as they all cackle.

"But we couldn't let my grandson take the fall. He drove me places, that's all. He had no idea."

"So you faked blindness, stole evidence cards from your grandson, caused multiple incidents around town..." I'm still processing. "All to play matchmaker?"

"And it worked," Della says proudly. "Every single couple is together now."

Marge lifts her chin, smug as a cat in the cream. “And sorry, Sheriff… but we ain’t fucking sorry,” she says.

“Language!” Ruthie gasps, swatting her arm.

“What? It’s the truth.”

The grandmas exchange another look before Birdie speaks.

"We still have one more match to make," she says softly. "But we needed to fix what we broke first."

"Actually two, Birdie. Don't forget my granddaughter, Becca," Marge corrects.

"Well take care of Becca later, Marge," Birdie replies. "But right now…" Her eyes move meaningfully between Massimo and me.

I should be angry. I should be reading them their rights, processing them for multiple crimes. Instead, I find myself fighting back something that feels dangerously close to laughter.

"This is..." I shake my head. "I don't even know what this is."

"Love, Sheriff," Ruthie says simply. "Sometimes it needs a little push."

"Or a flood," Massimo murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Or a fire," Marge adds.

"Or a broken window," Della continues.

"Or two stubborn people who forgot what they saw in each other," Birdie finishes, taking her sunglasses off and looking straight at us. "We could hear you two, you know?"

Della grins. "Birdie figured out how to crank the gain on our hearing aids so we can pick up what’s said at the sheriff’s station. Very educational." They all laugh like small kids.

"What now, Sheriff?" Marge asks. "The cuffs?"

Massimo’s gaze meets mine, slow heat sparking there. “Oh, I can think of much better uses for those cuffs than booking four beautiful grandmas,” he says, taking my hand and not letting go.