“You mean manipulate them?” Callie asked. “And I taught you all that because I thought you were getting elderly and bored and your mind would go to rot. I didn’t know you were going to terrorize people with it!”
Lucille laughed. “I’ve got a bunch of good years left before I’ll even consider getting elderly and bored. And no worries, my elevator still goes to the top floor. Come on over, honey. I’ve got to put the new registration sticker on the car; it just came in the mail. Nice that the state allows me to pay them for the car they won’t license me to drive, huh? To sweeten the deal, I’ve got dessert from Leah at the bakery. She makes the best stuff on the planet.”
Callie blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll bring the main course, something from the diner.”
“I could make my famous fried chicken.”
Last week, Lucille had set her fried chicken on fire and had nearly burned her house to the ground. Hence the “famous.” Which was really more like infamous. “I’m on a diet,” Callie fibbed.
“That’s ridiculous,” Lucille said, obviously outraged. “You don’t need to go on a diet to catch a man. You look fantastic! I mean, you’re a little short but your curves are all the rage right now. And sure, you can come off as a little standoffish, but I blame your parents and their inability to love anyone other than themselves for that, not you.”
Callie choked back her laugh. It was true; she was the product of two college sweethearts who’d been so crazy in love with each other that nothing had ever really penetrated their inner circle—including their own child. They’d raised her kindly and warmly enough, but her quiet upbringing had left her introverted and preferring the company of a computer rather than people. “I’m not trying to catch a man,” she said.
“Well, that’s a shame. And not to add any pressure but you do know Eric’s around too, right?”
Eric. Damn. Just the sound of her ex’s name made her stomach cramp. “Eric who?” she asked casually.
Lucille cackled. “Atta girl. Perfectly normal tone. But next time, no hesitation. That was a dead giveaway. Just be forewarned that your ex-fiancé—may his soul turn black—has married and has a kid on the way.”
Callie told herself she didn’t care that the man who’d left her at the altar due to a sudden severe allergy to commitment had apparently managed to overcome said allergy.
“And I’m not sure how long you’re planning on staying in Lucky Harbor,” her grandma went on, “but I doubt you’ll be fortunate enough to avoid him. He’s the only dentist in town. So the question is, how are your teeth? In good condition? You flossing daily? You might want to make sure you are.”
Callie thunked her head against the window, and when she looked up again, she was startled to realize that Tanner was back on the dock and looking right at her.
For a minute, her heart stopped. “I’ve got to go, Grandma.” She needed to be alone to process things. Like the fact that Eric was in town. And also that her very first, very painful, very humiliating crush was as well, and he’d grown into the poster child for Hottest Guy Ever.
“Wait,” Lucille said. “Bring salads because you might be right about a diet. The one of us who is going to get lucky needs to stay hot and all that.”
Oh boy. “Salads it is.” Still on the phone, Callie forced herself away from the window, heading directly to her refrigerator. More accurately, her freezer, where she had two choices. “Ice cream or vodka?”
“Tough decision,” her grandma said. “But I’d go with vodka.”
It was a tough decision, but as it was still early and she wasn’t the one trying to look hot, she passed over the vodka and reached for the ice cream. Breakfast of champions, right? She had a wooden spoon out of the drawer and the lid off the ice cream when she remembered. Ice cream was sugar. Sugar was bad for her teeth. And bad teeth required a dentist. “Crap.”
“What?” Lucille asked.
Screw it, she needed this ice cream. “Nothing.”
“Did you hear what I said about Eric?”
“Yeah.” Callie took her first bite. “I’ll floss.” She was older and wiser now. No big deal. And plus her hefty armor of indifference and cynicism toward romance and happily-ever-after would help. “I’ll be fine.”
“Do you want me to set you up with another hottie? ’Cause no offense, honey, but you could do a lot better than Eric anyway. Listen, I’ll start a poll for you on my Tumblr asking who people want to see you with—”