Page 46 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
My brain short-circuits at the word. I turn to look at him, then back at the woman, who's smiling broadly as she steps forward like she owns the place.
"Wait," I manage to say, staring between them. "Gran?"
Chapter Nineteen
Gerralt
IfIwasabraver man, I would bare my teeth and snarl at Bernice, but I'm not an idiot and I don't put it past my grandmother to pull my earlobe right out of my head if I so much as growl in her direction.
She may look like a sweet old lady, but I know the truth. Bernice is a terrifying force of nature and I’m not fool enough to provoke her ire.
"Well, well, what a lovely surprise." Her amber eyes twinkle with unbearable satisfaction as her shrewd gaze rakes over me, then goes to rest on Cassidy, still wearing only my t-shirt over her naked body. A fact I know my grandmother has noticed as soon as thedoor opened. In a moment of irritation, I wonder who in town has enough eyes and ears to spy on Cassidy all the way over here? Then I know.
Ugh. Evelyn Primrose is really getting on my last nerves with her gossiping.
“I’m just here to drop off some produce from my garden for our newest town resident,” Bernice lies through her tusks as she stands on the threshold, a basket of fresh vegetables cradled in her arms. “But it looks like I've stumbled upon something far more delicious than a bushel of tomatoes.”
Cassidy wraps her hands around the hem of my t-shirt and stands still, like a deer caught in headlights. A rosy flush blooms across her cheeks as she clutches the fabric, her wide hazel eyes darting to me and Bernice.
"Your timing is impeccable as always, Gran," I mutter, voice dripping with sarcasm.
She winks at me. "I've always had a gift for showing up exactly when I'm least expected. Must be that sixth sense your grandfather always accused me of having."
"Or a complete disregard for privacy," I counter, but my words lack any real bite.
"Privacy?" She snorts. "In our family? That's rich coming from the boy who used to burst into my bathroom to show me his latest rock collection."
I rub a hand over my face, already resigned to whatever mischief Gran has in store.
Nothing I can do about it now. I should have seen it coming.
"Gran," I say gruffly, stepping aside to introduce her to Cassidy. "This is—"
"Cassidy Perkins," Cassidy interrupts, recovering from her momentary muteness. She extends a hand, her natural warmth bubbling through any lingering awkwardness. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Banesman. Please come inside."
Bernice's face breaks into a pleased grin as she pushes her basket into my chest. I grab it instinctively and follow them both to the kitchen, resigned to allow Bernice to do whatever she came here to do. Not that I have a real choice in the matter.
"Oh, call me Bernice, dear. Or Gran, like this one does." She pats my arm, the gesture both affectionate and condescending. She turns back to Cassidy, looking her over as if appraising her like one of my handcrafted chairs. Checking for sturdiness, character.
The ability to withstand a little wear and tear. Probably.
Cassidy, to her credit, meets Bernice's scrutiny with an easy smile. There's a momentary pause as the two women size each other up, a silent conversation happening between them that I can't quite decipher. Then Bernice's eyes crinkle at the corners, and she reaches out to pat Cassidy's cheek with surprising tenderness.
"Well now," she says, her voice warm with approval. "Aren't you just exactly what I hoped you'd be."
The tension in Cassidy's shoulders visibly melts away at Bernice's words, as though she's passed some unspoken test. Her smile grows more genuine, the kind that reaches her eyes and transforms her entire face.
"I've heard a lot about you," Cassidy says, tucking a stray wisp of auburn hair behind her ear. "Gerralt always speaks highly of you."
I grunt, folding my arms, but I can't deny the truth of it.
Bernice clasps her hands together, looking far too pleased when a soft meow interrupts her. Her eyes immediately light up as Marigold trots into the kitchen, tail high and green eyes inquisitive.
"Oh! There she is!" Bernice exclaims, bending down with surprising agility for her age. "Come here, precious girl."
Marigold, the traitor, goes straight to my grandmother, rubbing against her outstretched hand and purring like a motorboat.
Cassidy's jaw drops slightly. "She's never that friendly with anyone. She barely started being friendly with me!"
