threshold, and his head jerks back in surprise when he finds me sitting next to Nate. “Hey,” he says, flashing me a smile.
“This is Kira,” Nate explains as I take in the man’s fishing attire. Nate changed out of his and is now in a navy suit, but Jason looks like he just stepped off the boat. Although he removed his boots before entering, house rules put in place a long time ago. “She’s—” Nate begins.
“She’s Gram’s granddaughter,” he says, his eyes wide with a mixture of warmth and concern.
“Wait, you called her Gram?”
“Everyone does. Sometimes I’d call her Grammy. She always liked me best,” he says, grinning. “I was her favorite.”
I take a moment to let that sink in. These big, rough and tumble men called her Gram? How weirdly adorable. My heart tightens a little more. She always wanted grandsons and must have adopted them all as her own.
“You’re all she ever talked about,” Jason says.
Ribbons of guilt flow through my veins, and I struggle to fight back the tears. I should have come back more often. I swallow and ask, “You knew her well?”
Jason rubs the scruff on his face. It’s hard to tell his age with all that hair—most grow a beard this time of year to help keep them warm—but I’m guessing he’s in his early thirties.
“We go way back.” He grabs a chair, spins it around, and plops himself onto it like we’re about to have a long chat. “I’ve seen pictures of you when you were younger. Gram was right—you really are gorgeous.”
I flush at the unexpected compliment. Maybe the lighting is different on the East coast or something, because I don’t usually get too many compliments. I wonder how they’d act if they found out I was a mathematician. Would they react with blank stares, or go squirrelly and find an excuse to leave? I glance at the scar cutting through Jason’s right eyebrow, and he runs his fingers across it.
“This?” he says, arching his brow at catching me staring.
Damn, I didn’t mean to be rude. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean—” I tear my gaze away and glance at Nate, who seems to be watching me carefully.
“Got this in a bar fight defending a woman’s honor,” Jason says, leaning a little closer to me. I steal another glance at him, taking in his cocky smile. I’m not sure I believe him, but I like the way he puts me at ease.
“All right, Jason.” Nate jerks his head toward the stairs. “Enough lies. The shower’s free. Go make use of it.” Nate turns his attention to me. “He got that when he drank too much rum and thought it would be fun to tightrope-walk on a metal guardrail. He fell and cut his eye open. I took him to the hospital, and he left with fifteen stitches.”
“Come on, who’re you going to believe?” Jason jerks his thumb toward Nate. “Bridgette’s boy here, or a guy who would stand up and defend your honor in a room full of brawlers.”
“Bridgette?” I ask. Does Nate have a girlfriend? I glance at his left hand, but there is no ring. Though that’s not a sure sign. A ring can be dangerous on the boats, and most fishermen take them off. I guess he could be married. But would he have agreed to dinner with me if he were? I hope not. Then again, is it that big of a deal? He saved my life, and we’re sharing a meal. There is nothing between us. We’re just a man and a woman who live in the same house, eating at the same table.
“Never mind,” Nate says quickly and fists his right hand, placing his left hand over it to crack his knuckles. I cringe at the sound. “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of Kira, so I suggest you get to that shower sooner rather than later.”
Jason stands and pushes his chair in, another one of Gram’s quirks. “I take it you didn’t eat? Want me to make us all something?”