She held my eyes, hers bright and keen, and I realized my chest was rising and falling fast. I took a sip of coffee and sat back, trying to force myself to relax.

I was also thinking about the air in his hunting lodge that morning, the look on his face when I said I wanted to give his Dad a boot to the groin.

There was something about that that moved me, scared me, spoke to me. I just didn’t know what it was saying.

“You find a way to have fun, you enjoy him, chère, and I’ll enjoy him when I’m with you two. But don’t forget what I said,” she continued, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Okay, Grams,” I told the tablecloth.

“Love you,” she told me and my eyes moved to her. “Said what I said and I’ll end it with this. If you’re the kind of woman who can withstand the blaze of hellfire he’s got burning inside, he battles that and wins, you will know nothing for the rest of your life, no taste, no experience, not even the birth of your children that will be sweeter than the love he’ll have for you.”

Oh my God.

She was totally freaking me out!

“We’ve only been on two dates,” I whispered.

“I see that. And I see he’s lost in you so completely it’s a wonder he knows his own name.”

I was back to semi-panting.

“He’s headed this way, precious. Take a deep breath,” she ordered, and my eyes went over her head to see added proof to what I’d had repeatedly had all my life. That Grams not only had excellent hearing, but eyes in the back of her head.

Raiden was headed our way, but he’d been stopped by Mrs. Bartholomew and her family. He was standing at their table, talking.

I deep breathed then took another sip of coffee, trying to force back Grams’s dire words, fit them someplace in my brain where I could go over them later (preferably with KC). I achieved this feat and had it together when Raiden slid back into his chair beside mine.

He also slid his arm along the back of my seat as he asked, “More coffee or the check?”

“Naptime for biddies, son, so the check. And I’m old, I’m a grandmother, so that means I pay and I don’t care how much of a man you are. When you’re old and a grandfather you’ll know what I mean and you’ll be glad you let me do it.”

He pulled me into his side and grinned at Grams.

I felt how great we seemed to fit together and frowned at Grams because I loved that feeling and she’d made me terrified of it.

She ignored my frown, lifted her hand and called, “Darla! Child, bring us the check, would you?”

Darla, our waitress, like she did every Sunday when Grams called for the check, scurried to do the matriarch of Willow’s bidding.

* * * * *

An hour and fifteen minutes later…

“You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

We’d just dropped off Grams. After a glass of sweet tea (well, Raiden and Grams had one, I had diet root beer), Raiden was taking me home.

I turned to look at him and asked, “Sorry?”

“You’ve been weird since the Pancake House.”

“I’m tired,” I replied.

Not exactly a lie, just not the whole truth.

“I get you home, you rest. I gotta go out and do something and when I get back I’ll bring a pizza. But after pizza, babe, you gotta have energy.”

I felt my nether regions quiver as I looked to the windshield.

I forced down that feeling and asked, “Does this something you have to do have to do with your crew and drug dealers?”

“No, it has to do with another job, but that has to do with my crew. Just not drug dealers.”

This was an answer, but it still wasn’t.

I didn’t call him on that.

I just mumbled, “Oh.”

“Change of plans tonight,” he stated. “Pizza, me sharin’ about what I do, then I’ll test the recuperative powers of the nap you’re about to take.”

I turned to him, “Raiden—”

He cut me off, “I tell you, it’ll be honest. It’ll freak you out, but you’ll deal.”

Holy Moses.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means I got out, assessed my talents, made decisions about what I wanted to do, I’m doin’ it. What I do might come as a shock to you, but then you’ll get over it,” he declared.

There were more words there, just no explanation.

“Uh, just FYI, this discussion is not conducive to me getting a nap,” I shared.

He gave me a quick glance and grinned.

“Right then. I’ll tell you I did all the work last night. I’m in the mood to test you to see what you can do, and just a guess, honey, but I ‘spect you’ll wanna pass.”

He would guess correctly.

But that comment also wasn’t conducive to me getting a nap.

We were pulling up to the front of my house so I turned fully toward him.

“Raiden, I—”

His belt zipped back and he undid mine. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and he pulled me to him. My hand came up automatically and crashed into his chest, then I did, scrunching my hand between us.

“What I do isn’t bad,” he said quietly. “It isn’t conventional but it isn’t bad.”

“Okay, so now I’m not totally freaking out, I’m only kinda freaking out,” I replied.

“Babe, a day ago, you found out two of your friends played you. You freaked out, felt the pain, sucked it up, hung up on that f**ker when he tried to phone and moved on. You take care of your grandmother, not like it’s a burden like everybody else would treat it, but a boon. That translates to her so she doesn’t feel the burden of being a burden and she can just enjoy the life God’s seen fit to grant her. What I do is what I do. It’s part of who I am. It came from what life threw at me and you’re gonna suck it up and deal with that too.”

This was a cool speech, but it was also a scary one.

So I asked a pertinent question.

“What’s happening here?”

“I’m about to kiss you good-bye, you’re about to take a nap, and in a few hours I’ll be back with pizza.”

“I mean with you and me.”

His eyes held mine, his hand slid up into hair and his other hand lifted to wrap around the side of my neck as he replied gently, “You know the answer to that.”

I had a feeling I did, and it exhilarated and terrified me.

“Raiden, maybe we should—”