Bunny and the Beast(Divine Creek Ranch 22)(48)

Joseph held out his hand. “I’m Joseph Hazelle, and you must be Tristan Carrigan.”

Bunny patted Tristan’s shoulder and he reached out to shake hands with Joseph. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir. Are you my sister’s boyfriend?”

“Tristan!” an older woman called from the shady porch. “Why don’t you come in and get cleaned up. Let the man at least come in the house where it’s cool before you start asking such impertinent questions.”

“Yes, Grinnie,” Tristan called as he smiled at Joseph and gave his car one last admiring look before wobbling and rolling to the porch while his grandmother laughed and exhorted him as he tried to stay upright.

“Sorry about that, Sir,” Bunny said softly as she took his offered hand. “He’s learning to filter his thoughts but sometimes he forgets. He loses his mind over nice cars. I can’t say I blame him. Did you have it washed and detailed for our date?” she asked as she gave the sparkling vehicle an admiring once over.

“Maybe.”

“And you look very nice, too. But you’re here early. I still need to get ready.”

“I hope it’s not an inconvenience. I wanted to meet your family and introduce myself to your grandmother.”

“Not inconvenient at all, as long as you don’t mind if Grinnie grills you while I take a shower and get ready,” she said with a giggle.

“I don’t mind. I’d love to chat with her, and then there’s the prospect of you naked in the shower just a few feet away to distract me if her questions get pointed.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. I imagine she was impressed that you arrived early and didn’t just honk the horn for me to come out.”

“I’d never do that.”

“I know that, and now she does, too. See? You’re already making points with her, Sir,” she said, and that last soft, submissive syllable made him smile but also gave him pause.

He halted her and lifted her slightly grimy hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “While I’m in your home and you’re with your family, you need not address me as a Dominant.” Your Dominant.

Her lowered lashes and the flush in her cheeks pleased him. “Thank you. I didn’t think you would, but I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll keep my inner smartass in check if that helps at all.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about her quelling a part of her personality to please him but kept his thoughts to himself.

She plopped down on the top step of the porch and made quick work of removing her rollerblades, no easy chore considering the buckles, laces and fastenings and then slipped off the safety pads. He was gratified that she observed such precautions, and said as much.

She pulled open the screen door and he held it for her as she led the way into the cool, dim interior of the front room. A few seconds later, Bunny’s grandmother, dressed in a crisp cotton housecoat, came in from what must’ve been the kitchen, judging by the mouthwatering scents that emanated from it.

“Grinnie, this is Joseph Hazelle. He’s taking me out tonight.” Joseph could hear the affection in her voice as she spoke to her grandmother, and noted the way she leaned just a little toward him and stroked his back. She wanted her grandmother to approve of him.

“I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said as he held out his hand to her.

She smiled and shook with him, giving him an approving nod. “I appreciate a man who knows how to give a good firm handshake. I’m Bernice Haugen, Mr. Hazelle, but you can call me Grinnie.”

“I’m honored. Call me Joseph, please,” he said with a nod as she gestured to the couch.

Bunny laid her hand over his and softly said, “I’ll get ready.”

“Take your time,” he replied and forced himself not to watch her scamper from the room. He kept his attention on Grinnie, and watched as she settled herself in a chair, assessing him, just as he would if he was in her shoes.

“I have fresh iced tea made, Joseph. Would you like a glass?”

“Is it sweet?” he asked. Evidently, this was the right thing to say because she grinned, nodded, and then beckoned to him. “Come on into my kitchen.”

Having evidently passed the first inspection, he followed her into the inner sanctum and grinned when she waved him onto one of the barstools that were clustered around one end of the tiled counter. “Lemon?”

“Only if you have it ready.”

She poured two glasses from an ice-filled pitcher sweating on the counter and then placed the dish of sliced lemons over to him. “You’re from the south? I can’t make out your accent but I’d say you’ve lived here a while.”