Page 4 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
All right.
So, the ‘oak trees’ was a polite way of saying ‘whiskey,’ but who was judging him?
Not me.
“Hey, Gramps.” I turned my body slightly to rest my head on his shoulder with a smile. “I missed you.”
“Took your sweet time getting here, didn’t you?” he grumbled, squeezing me gently before he released both me and Nana. “Thought you’d be here by six.”
I grimaced. “Sorry,” I said, extracting myself from Nana’s arms. “There was a crash on the motorway that held me up. I did try calling.”
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his dinosaur of a phone. “Oh. It’s got no battery.”
I dipped my chin. Of course it hadn’t.
“Keith, stop being such a fusspot,” Nana said. “She’s here now. Shouldn’t you be doing something useful like putting the kettle on? I’m sure Sylvie needs a cup of tea after being stuck in traffic for so long.”
“Of course, dear. Cup of tea, Birdie?” Gramps asked me.
I sighed. Of course, he was going to use that nickname. “I’d love a cuppa, Gramps. Thank you.”
“Come inside,” Nana said, squeezing my hand. “It’s getting chilly out here and I don’t want you to freeze to death.”
“I will, just give me a minute to grab my stuff.”
“Oh, goodness. Keith! Move the car! I can’t believe you parked in front of the bloody door when you knew Sylvie was coming.”
“It’s fine,” I called through the door, touching Nana’s shoulder. “Gramps, don’t worry. Suitcases do have wheels these days.”
He poked his head around the doorframe. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. Nana, please go inside if you’re getting cold. It won’t take me more than a couple of minutes to bring my cases inside.”
She huffed. “At least back up to your grandfather’s car so you don’t have to take it so far.”
She was acting like I’d parked halfway down the street, not at the side of the house.
Gramps fought a smile. “I’ve got nowhere to be tomorrow, Birdie. Block me in for my sins.”
I sniffed, fighting against a laugh. “I will do. Nana, go inside. I’ll be there by the time the tea has brewed.”
She shuffled inside with a grumble about my grandfather’s ignorant lack of care for my journey up here. I caught a glimpse of his shoulders shaking as he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving me alone on the driveway to bring my belongings in from the car.
With a shake of my head, I got back into my car, backed up to the front of the house, and climbed back out. Thankfully I’d left enough space to open my boot and pull out my stuff. I was exhausted from the long drive up here, so I just grabbed my smaller suitcase that was packed for overnight, my laptop bag, and rounded back to the front seats to grab my handbag from where it’d fallen into the footwell.
I locked it up and hauled my stuff into the hallway. Nothing had changed. The house was exactly how I remembered it, exactly how I loved it, and the smell of a beef joint roasting in the kitchen assaulted my senses.
Nobody cooked beef like my nana.
That. Was. Amazing.
Nana smiled at me, showing a bright pink smudge of lipstick on her front tooth. “I made your favourite.”
“You are my favourite,” I told her, wrapping her in a big hug. I positioned my mouth near her ear and whispered, “You have a little lippie on your tooth.”
She instantly released me and stormed into the living room. “Keith! Why didn’t you tell me I had lipstick on my tooth?”
Welp. There went my attempt at being discreet.
