Page 17 of New River Gorge(ous)
I can’t think of anything to say, so I finish the drive home in silence. When I pull into the driveway, I park as close to MissJune’s house as I can. I’ll have to help her out and carry her up the front porch stairs.
Brooke flings the door open and stomps up the walkway in her fluffy pink slippers, leaving me with June.
“I’ve never seen her mad before,” June murmurs as I exit the car and walk around to her side.
“Somehow, I think you haven’t spent a lot of time with her lately,” I respond as I lift my arms up to help June down from the truck. I’ve seen Brooke mad on at least three occasions. The fact that these three occasions have been times when I’ve directly interacted with her doesn’t escape my notice.
June shakes her head, chagrined. “That’s true.” Her beady blue eyes bore into my own. “I love my granddaughter, and she needs someone with a fire to match her own. So when are you going to take her out?”
“What?” I sputter, dropping my arms to my sides. “I don’t know her. I don’t date.”
“Why not?” June’s eyes widen. “You don’tdate? I didn’t ask you todate her. These days, that just means sleeping together with no commitment at all. I asked you to take her out. And then youmarryher.”
“Woah.” My hands fly up into a defensive position. “Miss June. It’s not the 1800s. You can’t just tell me to marry your granddaughter.”
“Pshaw, boy. It’s clearer than the sky on a sunny day that you like her goods.”
I sigh and scrub a hand along my jawline. Miss June is right. Idothink Brooke is attractive, but I don’t know her well enough to ask her out on a date. And then there’s the whole left-at-the-altar mess. I don’t touch dating with a ten-foot pole, and I am not about to explain all that to June.
“Miss June, I’ll carry you into your house, but you have to promise you’ll be good and not cause any more harm to your ankles.”
I scoop her into my arms. She’s light, and I’m not sure how someone can have such a substantial personality in such a small body.
“If that’s the definition of good these days, boy, I think my generation had a lot more fun.” She hooks an arm around my neck and pinches my cheek.
9
Brooke
Dr. Beckett Whistler is pretentious and—there’s no other way to put it—insanely attractive. He’s also carrying my meddling grandmother up the stairs to her house.
I shake my head as I stand by the front door, holding it open. I must be experiencing temporary insanity because, for a brief moment, I wish that I was in Meemaw’s place.
Definitely insane.
He takes Meemaw to the living room couch, where he sets her down gently and elevates her feet with a pillow. He hands her the TV remote and crouches down when she pulls him toward her.
Meemaw whispers something in his ear, and his cheeks turn red.
“No, ma’am,” he responds quietly, but loud enough that I hear him.
“Good. Then I approve. You can take Brooke out anytime.”
I shake my head vigorously.
“Meemaw!” I interject. “You do not get to choose who I go out with, or when.”
“Brookie Cookie, if I’m not allowed to have any fun because of these old bones, you better go have some.”
Dr. Whistler stands and stares at me. I know my hair is crazy, and I know I’m wearing pajamas, but today was an extenuating circumstance. It was themiddle of the night.
“Thank you for your help today, Dr. Whistler. I can assure you we’re just fine, and Meemaw is being meddlesome.”
His neck cords, and he nods once. I lean against the front door, ready to shut it once he leaves.
With a quick glance at Meemaw, he walks toward me. “Call me if you have any trouble or concerns. I’ll be right over.” His voice is low, soothing, and I wish he wasn’t talking about my grandmother, but I can’t let them both know that.
“Thank you, Dr. Whistler. I’ll try to keep the patient in line.”
