The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,81

stressful time for them. They hadn’t been separated long, and I didn’t want to add to their burden of dealing with all that.”

“That makes you an incredibly caring daughter, but you must’ve been reeling from the diagnosis. Who helped you through it?”

“Nobody.” Pain glinted in her eyes before she blinked, eradicating it. “I’m one tough chick, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You’re amazing.” He placed his cup on the island bench and moved around it to take her into his arms. “But it’s okay for tough chicks to depend on fiancés. That’s one of the unspoken rules of matrimony.”

She laughed against his chest. “You’re making that up.”

“Maybe, but it should be written in stone.”

He loved the peace that enveloped him when he held her like this, like all was right with the world.

But they had a party to get to.

“We need to leave in about half an hour,” he said, reluctantly releasing her. “Though I still think you should’ve let me take you ring shopping before the engagement party.”

“It’s our closest friends, my folks, and your gran. Nobody to impress; we can be ourselves.” She touched his cheek. “Besides, there’s plenty of time to get a ring. I’d rather spend time with you than flash around a five-carat rock on my finger.”

“Five carats?” He clutched at his chest. “I work in the ER; I’m not a brain surgeon.”

“Well then, maybe you should introduce me to some of your colleagues—”

She squealed as he made a lunge for her, allowing him to catch her far too easily.

“You have a smart mouth, Ms. Ryland.”

“Haven’t you heard? Smart mouths make for the best kisses,” she said, a moment before proving exactly that.

57

No amount of makeup or hairstyling or wearing a killer new dress could’ve prepared Harper for walking into Manny’s grandmother’s house and meeting his beloved Izzy.

“Isadora Gomes, my dear.” The sprightly old lady with tight gray curls and beady brown eyes held out her hand as if she expected to be greeted like the queen. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Harper said, shaking her hand, unsure whether to kiss her cheek or give her a hug too. Unfortunately, she ended up doing a weird one arm pat on the back that earned a raised eyebrow from Izzy.

“You can call me Isadora.”

Harper didn’t want to disagree and appear rude, but calling Manny’s grandmother by her first name felt wrong, so she managed an awkward smile she hoped didn’t look like a grimace.

“You’re very pretty.” Isadora tilted her head, studying her with an intensity that left Harper squirming. “I can see what my grandson sees in you.”

“Thank you,” Harper said, hating their stilted, almost clichéd conversation, wishing Manny would stop fussing with the caterers and get in here. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed up. But don’t tell Manish. He fusses terribly.”

“It’s sweet that he cares about you so much.”

“Yes, I am lucky.” Isadora eyed her speculatively. “So, what’s this I hear about you styling food?”

At last, a subject they may have something in common about. Manny had told her Izzy was a great cook and he’d learned a lot from her.

“Food is my passion,” Harper said. “When I was young I’d sit with my mom and we’d look at cookbooks together and I loved the pretty pictures. I did okay at school but knew I wanted to do something in hospitality when I finished, so I ended up working with various catering companies while trying to hone my hand at styling.”

Her enthusiasm caused her to babble, and by Izzy’s beady stare, she had no idea if she’d impressed her or confirmed a less favorable opinion.

“So you intend on making a career out of this food styling?”

Izzy made it sound like Harper wanted to dance naked in Federation Square in the heart of Melbourne for a living.

“I do. When it’s your passion it doesn’t feel like work, and I’ve just done a big job in New Zealand for the magazines to be placed throughout Storr Hotels, so I should get plenty of referrals out of that. And my hours can be flexible, which should fit in well with Manny’s.”

“Indeed.”

Uh-oh. Manny may have implied his grandmother was a sweetheart, but Harper found her slightly terrifying.

Thankfully, Manny reentered the lounge room at that moment, preventing what felt like an incoming interrogation of monstrous proportions.

“How are my two favorite girls in the world getting along?”

“Famously,” Isadora said, reaching across to pat Harper’s hand, as she tried not to flinch at the iciness of the older woman’s palm.