Page 25 of Make-Believe Match

“He’s evil,” I said, sitting cross-legged on a chair. “You should see him in a suit. Only Lucifer himself could look that good.”

She laughed. “So you still think he’s hot?”

“He’s unbelievably, unbearably, inhumanly hot.” I bit into a slice of apple, but what I tasted on my tongue was his whiskey-flavored kiss. Further proof he used black magic against me. “I’m gonna need a priest to exorcise him from my memory.”

“So why did he come over after you left the table today?”

“Because my grandmother—my sweet, lovely, menace of a grandmother—gave him my phone number and told him to come talk to me. She’s convinced we should sell, but she doesn’t want to do it without my blessing.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“It is, but I’m not sure how long it’s going to last. She doesn’t want this fight.”

“There is another solution, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just run out and get a husband.”

“Right!” I laughed. “It will be so easy! Who wouldn’t want to marry me for my ski resort in distress?”

“Eligible bachelors with no red flags would line up around the block for that kind of opportunity, Lex. All you’d have to do is pick one.”

“I wish,” I muttered, sinking my teeth into the bagel.

“So what will you do?”

I chewed and swallowed, but the food stuck in my throat. “I need to find another buyer, one that won’t tear it down.” It sounded hopeless when I said it out loud. “And the clock is ticking.”

* * *

I had to work the late shift at the desk, but on my way there, I stopped at Gran’s house. Even though I wasn’t happy she’d given Devlin my phone number, I owed her an apology for taking off on her this afternoon. I wanted her to think I was mature, logical, and capable, and running off had only reinforced her belief that I was ruled by my emotional side.

As I turned into her driveway, I looked up automatically at the second-floor bedroom window that had been mine after I’d moved in here. My heart ached—would this house be torn down too? What would they put up in its place? A waterslide? Mini-golf? Go-karts?

I got out of the car and ambled slowly up the drive.

“Hello, darling,” called Gran from a rocker on the deep wraparound porch. “I’m just having some tea. Would you like a cup?”

“Sure,” I said, climbing the steps. “But don’t get up. I’ll get it.”

In the kitchen, the water was still hot in the kettle. I poured some into a cup, glanced at the various flavors of tea Gran had in the canister, and chose lemon and ginger. Dunking the teabag into the water, I went back outside and sat in the rocker beside her.

“Are you feeling better, dear?” she asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I walked out on you.”

“That’s all right.” She sipped her tea. “Did Mr. Buckley call you?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I told him the same thing I’ll tell you. I’m not ready to give up.”

She sighed. “I thought maybe he could convince you. He’s very persuasive.”

“Hecertainlyis.”