"Yes," I answered. "Like you said, it's every woman for herself."
It was my turn to hang up.
I was probably going to pay for that later, but there was nothing Parker could do or say to me that outweighed the potential backlash from Yia-Yia if she thought I didn't want her cooking omelets in my kitchen.
I didn't want her cooking omelets in my kitchen, but that wasn't the point. The woman was old, but that didn't mean she'd slowed down any. She was like a tiny, five-foot-three hurricane that would take down a building if you didn't give her what she wanted. Hence my mom's placation and my diversion.
I wrote down what needed to be filled in the fridges and went to the cellar. By the time I'd picked the stock and carried it back through, my phone was flashing with a notification. One peek at it showed three missed calls from Parker and one text message.
Damn. My grandma was on fire.
I set the crate on the floor and picked up the phone to read his message.
Parker: I thought I hated you before, but this is a whole new level.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I replied.
Me: Good morning, sunshine.
He was going to kill me.
My phone rang again. This time, it was his name on the screen, and it took me two rings to debate on whether or not to answer it.
I had to, so I tucked my lady balls in and swiped toward the green circle. "Good morning," I trilled.
"Good morning? What's fucking good about this?" His voice was low...husky...sleepy. Sexy. Damn it. "Your grandmother just woke me up with fifteen fucking rings of the goddamn doorbell. I barely had time to throw on sweats before she thumped on the damn door and then, when I finally got my half-asleep ass down there to answer it, she stared at me for a full sixty seconds before launching into a tirade in Greek."
"Was my mom there to translate?"
"No, she was not there to translate, and she didn't need to be." Something slammed. "When she was done in Greek, she started in English about how she didn't care if I was your chef because she was going to cook her omelets in that kitchen whether I liked it or not. Then, she kissed me on the damn cheek, said it was good to see me, and hobbled off back to your mom's!"
"At least she was nice at the end."
"Omelets? I have no idea what she's fucking talking about, Raven!"
"Ah, well, yes." I paused. "She wants to cook omelets in the kitchen."
"Pretty fucking clear on that part. Why did I need to know?"
"I might have informed my mother that it was technically your kitchen and that's why I couldn't give her permission."
He didn't reply.
"Parker?"
"Of course." More silence for a second. "You threw me under the big fat Greek bus, didn't you?"
"Survival of the fittest and all that." A nervous giggle escaped me.
"When I get there, I'm going to tell her what you did."
"And I'm going to tell her you're lying because I'd never do that to her."
"You don't want her cooking at the bar."
I fake-gasped. "How dare you suggest that?"
I was a dreadful person.
Parker chuckled, his ire seemingly relenting. "Ray, I can smell your bullshit from here. I'll be there in half an hour to supervise her, okay?"
A very undignified snort escaped me. "You want to supervise my grandmother? Do you like your life?"
Nobody shadowed Yia-Yia in the kitchen unless you were under her instruction.
She was kind of a difficult person.
"Fine," he continued. "I'll hover."
"You hover and she's gonna remove your manhood," I warned him. "You know what she's like. Just get here before she does and make sure it's clean before she loses her ever-loving mind. I'll put the spare key under the mat outside the door so you can get in."
"Why? Where are you going? Don't fucking leave me with your batshit family."
"To shower," I said flatly. "I don't feel like running naked through the bar to let you in in case you get here before I'm done."
"I would be totally okay with that."
"Parker. Fuck off."
On that note, I hung up.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Parker
I was still chuckling to myself as I pulled up outside Dirty.
There were worse things in life you could see than Raven Archer naked. Not that I'd ever seen it-and I never would. As Ryan's sister, she always had been and always would be firmly off-limits.
Maybe if I kept telling myself that, I'd stop imagining her naked.
But messing with her was too damn fun. Last night, when she'd said about me sticking my cock anywhere I wanted, and I'd asked her if it was an offer, she'd blushed as she'd told me to get out.
She was too hot for her own fucking good, that woman. I wasn't going to beat around the damn bush. When she got pissed off, she was even hotter. It was the way her cheeks flushed and she pouted her full lips. The way her eyes, brighter than they had any right to be, glared at me with an ire that stoked the fire that burned only to annoy the shit out of her.