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Фантастика и фэнтези
- Боевая фантастика
- Героическая фантастика
- Городское фэнтези
- Готический роман
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- Фантастика: прочее
- Фэнтези
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Детективы и триллеры
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Проза
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Любовные романы
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- Остросюжетные любовные романы
- Порно
- Прочие любовные романы
- Слеш
- Современные любовные романы
- Эротика
- Фемслеш
Приключения
- Вестерны
- Исторические приключения
- Морские приключения
- Приключения про индейцев
- Природа и животные
- Прочие приключения
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Детские
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- Мифы. Легенды. Эпос
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Справочная литература
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Юмор
Дом и семья
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- Сделай сам
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Деловая литература
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- О бизнесе популярно
- Поиск работы, карьера
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- Управление, подбор персонала
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Жанр не определен
Техника
Прочее
Драматургия
Фольклор
Военное дело
The Wager - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 44
“Now, now.” Grandma patted Char’s back. “Everything’s going to work out just fine. You trust your Grandma.”
“Only one problem,” Char leaned into Grandma and whispered. “You aren’t my Grandma.”
The smile on Grandma’s face widened just slightly before it went back to normal size. “Why, of course I am. Remember when I told you I would ruin Jake?”
Char didn’t really want to talk about Jake; she nodded but tried to pretend she wasn’t interested.
“He was already ruined.” Grandma patted Char’s hand. “The minute he set eyes on you in that wedding gown. I bought it, you know.”
“What?” Char shrieked, gaining attention from the guests around the table waiting for the first course. She coughed and hid behind her dark hair. “Tell me you’re joking, Grandma!”
“Oops.” Grandma shrugged. “I thought you liked that dress. And it was so pretty on you. Truly divine.” She poured herself a glass of wine and closed her eyes as she took a deep sip, then placed the glass back on the table. “Besides, you may need it one of these days.”
“Right.” Char fought back tears. “I guess anything’s possible.”
“Oh, but it is.” Grandma said. “Did you know I always wanted to be a fairy godmother?”
“Huh?”
“Most girls want to be the princess in the story. I want to be the fairy godmother.”
Was she drunk? Already?
“Okay.” Char squinted. “Well, all you need is a wand and some magic, and anything’s possible.”
“Got my wand, and all grandmas have magic.” She shrugged. “So, tell me about Jace.”
“He’s…” Char looked down the table. His blond hair was combed back, revealing perfect green eyes and a chiseled face. “Nice.”
Grandma sputtered with laughter. “Oh dear, that man is many things. ‘Nice’ would not be the word I would use to describe him. He’s damn sexy is what he is. A beast among men.”
“Grandma.” Char groaned. “Keep your voice down.”
“Well.” Grandma lifted her hands in the air. “All I’m saying is, that man could make a girl melt with just one stare.” As if hearing them, Jace looked at Grandma and winked. “Good Lord, I think I just experienced a mini-stroke.”
“Seriously?” Char reached for the elderly woman’s arm in panic.
“Well.” Grandma winked back at Jace. “If that was a stroke, I want another.”
Char felt her face heat.
“He doesn’t turn your clock?” Grandma asked.
Char choked on her wine and began coughing wildly as Grandma smacked her hard on the back. “Dear, drink slower. You’ll get a stain on that pretty yellow sundress.”
“Right. It was the wine that did it,” Char croaked. “Not the clock turning.”
“Well.” Grandma leaned forward and whispered. “What do you kids call it these days? Does he get you—”
“Grandma!” Char hissed. “Stop, just stop.” She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. “He’s a nice guy, but not…” She was about to say ‘not Jake’ when he came in and sat at the end of the table. Her eyes betrayed her will as they greedily took in every damn plane of his perfect body. Jake leaned forward on the table, his forearms brushing against the flowers scattered around his plate. Oh, but if she were only a flower.
“I see,” Grandma said in a low voice. “He’s not my grandson.”
“What?” Char pulled her gaze from Jake and began twisting her hands in her lap.
“Jace.” Grandma pointed. “He could be two steps above Marlon Brando and you’d still look at him as if he were nothing but a stand-in.”
“Marlon Brando? Stand in?” Char smiled tightly but didn’t glance up at Grandma.
“For the one you really want.” Grandma placed her hand on Char’s, calming her down. A few diamond rings shone from her fingers as she continued to pat. “My grandson. You’re in love with him.”
“I’m—” But she couldn’t deny it so instead she met Grandma’s gaze and said, “Please don’t tell him.”
Jerking back, Grandma snorted. “Honey, if he don’t know you love him now, he’s an idiot. Then again, he is a man.” She looked in his direction and threw her hands in the air. “He looks miserable. Probably all the sex he’s not having.”
And there went Char’s racing heartbeat. Did Grandma just say ‘sex’ again? At the dinner table?
This time her words drew the attention of Travis and Kacey, who both gave her pleading looks as if to say please, no more embarrassing moments.
Pastor Jim choked on his wine, while the table fell silent.
Helpless, Char looked to Grandma.
“I was discussing Petunia.”
Oh no. Petunia stiffened across the table, and her eyes narrowed on Grandma as if she was the spawn of Satan. “I do not say such vulgar words.”
“No, you just knit and read dirty books.”
“Well, I never—”
“Don’t deny it.” Grandma swirled her wine in her glass. “I’ve seen those books firsthand. You aren’t as prudish as you let on, sister.”
Petunia’s lips pinched together as she looked around the table. “She’s clearly drunk.”
“Tell me, did Captain Jack find his way home with the slave girl? I haven’t gotten to that part yet, though I have to admit I’m very excited to see if they’re able to—”
“Grandma,” Travis warned.
She shrugged. “I was going to say ‘fall in love’.”
“My ass,” Jake muttered from the other side.
Petunia glared at Grandma. “You’re a heathen.”
“At least I’m not a heathen in hiding… Where’s your whip, Petunia?”
Char’s eyes widened.
Wescott chuckled. “Now let’s just calm down, everyone. We’re here to celebrate—”
“Probably with your red heels, you tattooed hussy!” Petunia screamed.
“I do like those heels,” Grandma said longingly.
“Oh look, dinner!” Bets said in a high-pitched voice. “Everyone, eat, eat!” She clapped and began piling food brought in by the waiters that came with the catering crew onto her plate.
“Oysters.” Grandma pointed to one of the buckets. “Eat up, Travis. You’ll need this tomorrow night.”
He cursed and looked to the sky. “And I was doing so well reining it in.”
“If that’s you reining it in, I’m a nun.” Grandma winked while Travis groaned and scooted away from Kacey.
“Oh look!” Bets pointed to the middle of the table. “We’re out of wine.”
“I’ll get some!” Travis shouted, pulling back from the table, his hand firmly grasping Kacey’s forearm.
Grandma calmly reached into her purse and pulled out a collar that looked a lot like the kind you’d put on a dog in order to shock it. “Sit down, Travis.”
With a curse he sat.
“I’ll uh, I’ll go.” Char rose from her seat.
“Me too.” This from Jace. “You may get lost in that wine cellar.”
“My hero,” she said dryly. Although he didn’t seem to care. His gaze was trained on Grandma. He nodded just once and then looked back at Char.
“Ready?” He offered his arm, ignoring her curious look altogether.
They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the house.
Chapter Forty-five
Jake was going to give them exactly five minutes alone before he burst into the wine cellar, guns blazing. He had just been about to offer to escort her when Jace rose from the other end of the table. Jace had exchanged a weird look with Grandma then left.
Eyes narrowing, Jake took a sip of wine and watched the door, waiting for their return. He checked his watch. Damn, it had only been thirty seconds.
“My, my.” Grandma pulled up a chair next to his. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Huh?” Jake flinched when a bird landed on the doorknob. Wow, how pathetic was he?
“You’ve chosen well.” Grandma sighed. “Why, I would have picked her myself, had I anything to do with matters. But my matchmaking days are over, as you well know.”
“Right.” Jake licked his lips and checked his watch again. A minute and a half. He was in Hell.
“… so I just need you to sign here.” A pen was forced into his hand. He barely glanced down at the paper and signed his name where Grandma’s hand was hovering, then handed the pen back to her. “Three minutes, Jake, it’s been barely three minutes. Not much can happen in three minutes. Well, except…” Grandma chuckled. “That one time your grandfather and I only had five minutes and you won’t believe the ways we—”
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