Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“I know, I know. It’s your job to worry,” she said, pushing her giant green glasses up before reaching for her latte. “I keep trying to convince them to get one of those fancy espresso machines in the lobby. But they go on and on about blood pressure and blood sugar and all that nonsense.”
“I guess they have to look out for everyone.”
“We’re all grown adults here. We can make our own decisions.”
“Is this one of those decisions?” I asked, grabbing a paperback off the dining table. It featured a half-naked man with bulging muscles and a wicked look in his eye.
“That’s for our new book club.”
“Book club. A smutty book club?” I asked.
“Is there any other kind, my dear?” she asked, wiggling her brows. “Well, to be fair, I’m also in a cozy mystery book club. And a thriller book club.”
“How do you have so much reading time?” I asked. “Did you quit one of your clubs?”
“And miss out on my bridge, canasta, knitting, aqua aerobics, tai chi, walking, gardening, and coffee klatches? Absolutely not.”
All of that was on top of the events the assisted living place held for all the residents.
“Do we have a different amount of hours a day?” I asked, thinking about how I was always meaning to pick up a new hobby, but never feeling like I had the time.
“It’s amazing how much you can fit into a day when you don’t have work. Or watch TV. Or, what is it the kids say? Doom scrolling.”
Okay, fair enough. I did tend to fall into a TV or movie hole while also simultaneously scrolling my phone when I was home.
Also, clubs would mean, you know, leaving my house, reaching out, making new friends. That had never been in my wheelhouse. I’d been far from a social butterfly as a kid. I’d been too studious, too worried about my grades, too stuck in my own head.
That, unfortunately, followed me all through high school and college and, well, to the present day. I was really thankful that Traeger started working for me, or I would literally only know my grandma in the area.
“You could join us,” my grandma said, as if sensing the direction of my thoughts.
“I don’t think romance stories are something I’d be into,” I said. Also, it felt a bit like a pity invitation. That was pretty pathetic, if I do say so myself.
“Because of your lack of a love life?”
“Gee, thanks, Grammy,” I grumbled, stirring my straw around in my latte.
“Am I wrong?” she asked, brows raised. “Do you have a gentleman in your life?”
“Nope. Just Traeger at work.”
Though my mind flashed back to a tall, dark, handsome man with ‘bad news’ practically tattooed across his forehead.
“Well, that is certainly not going to help you in the romance department.”
“Grammy, come on. Let’s be real here. Romance never did either of us any good.”
“Speak for yourself,” she said with a devilish little smile.
“I thought you didn’t date after Grandpa.”
“No, my dear, you assumed I didn’t date after your grandfather.”
“You did? Seriously?”
“Goodness, no. Just physical fun.”
I just barely managed to keep my face from scrunching up as an unwanted mental image flashed through my mind.
“Grammy!”
“What? I was a very traditional woman in my youth. I kept myself chaste and pure for my husband. And between us girls, well, that was never a part of my marriage I enjoyed.”
Again, the thought of my grandmother’s sex life made me wildly uncomfortable. But she was right; we were adults, and it was important to me to know my grandmother’s story after all she’d done for me.
“But then I was single… and the mailman started showing interest, and, well, turns out I could enjoy that sort of thing.” Her blue eyes warmed at the memory. As sad as it was that it took her so long to discover that part of her life, I was glad it did eventually happen. “After that, well, the gloves were off.”
“Are you telling me you… got around a lot?” I asked, shooting her a faux-scandalized smile as I sat at the table.
“I’m saying I still do,” she said.
“Here?”
“Believe it or not, old people still like having sex, my dear. In fact, it seems like we are doing it more than your generation is.”
“Is that a dig?” I asked.
“Maybe a small one. Just because your last boyfriend wasn’t a keeper doesn’t mean you can’t entertain other men. Can you honestly tell me you haven’t seen a single man you’d like to take to bed since you moved here?”
Again, it was Kylo who flashed across my mind.
“If not, there’s this house across the street,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “And it is jam-packed full of delicious young men. The girls and I, we set up folding chairs and sit and watch them when they wash their motorcycles.”