Tiger Lily - May Dawson Page 0,64

ground, leaning forward to brush my lips against his. The two of us shared quick, charged kisses.

“You know I’ve been chasing you for twenty years,” he said, wrapping me in his arms as he set me down, resting his chin on top of my head. “And if you want me, I’m never going to stop.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and let myself get lost in his arms, in their love.

38

“Here you go, sir.” The nurse smiled at my grandfather as she wheeled the wheelchair right next to Roberta’s passenger door. “We won’t miss you.”

“You really will though,” he promised her.

My grandfather had been a pain in the ass one way or another constantly throughout his hospital stay. Either he was asking for more Jell-o, and the red stuff this time please, or he was flirting with them quite brazenly. He was always either annoying or inappropriate, and occasionally both.

“Maybe,” she said. “But please stay out of the hospital anyway?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said.

She helped him step into Roberta’s passenger seat.

Just as we were about to drive away, he asked, “Should we put the top down, Lily?”

“I think we should.”

I pressed the button and then held my breath, afraid something else would go wrong with this car.

But the top went back smoothly, leaving sunshine and the fresh breeze on our faces.

“You guys got her running again, huh?” My grandfather patted the dash as I pulled out of the circle in front of the hospital and started down the roads back to Silver Springs. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

I usually rolled my eyes when he said things like that, because he was my grandfather. He had to believe in me.

But today I said, “Maybe not.”

Maybe I could even handle three guys—three guys who made me crazy, in every possible way.

In many good ways.

When we pulled back into the driveway, I hovered as he walked slowly up the steps and into the house. He sighed at me, but didn’t complain.

Once he was settled on the couch with his favorite things—his Navy-emblem fleece blanket, the remote control, a TV guide even though everyone under the age of seventy just looked it up online, and his favorite Tervis cup of Jack Palmer—I sat down next to him.

I held out the keys and gave him a smile.

But he shook his head. “You should keep her,” he said. “I can’t drive her anyway.”

“But I can drive you places,” I said.

“Oh? Won’t you be in Scarborough?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for my answer, and I could tell he was setting up his I told you so moment. He already knew.

“No, Grandpa,” I said. “You can’t be trusted on your own. I need to stick around.”

He scoffed at that. “You’re not sticking around for me. You’re sticking around for those boys down the street.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“Absolutely nothing.” He gave in and grinned. “I’m happy for you, Lily. But I want you to have Roberta.”

“Are you sure? I’m going to change her name. Give her something more respectable for such a beautiful car.”

He groaned.

I laughed. But the truth was, I’d never change her name.

39

A few days later, I walked into the guys’ house. They’d left the door unlocked for me. The scent of food cooking hung in the air—the yeasty scent of fresh baked bread, the savory, rich scent of a red sauce. I inhaled deeply there on the threshold.

It turned out these guys could cook more than hot dogs.

I’d chosen wisely.

Of course it was Archer in the kitchen cooking. I went past Blake and Dylan watching television—ducking Blake as he tried to grab me—and slipped into the kitchen with him. I bobbed up onto my toes to wrap an arm around his as he stirred the sauce at the stove, burying my face in his back, his crisp shirt and the scent of his cologne.

“You’re my favorite,” I whispered into his ear. “The one who cooks for me.”

He twisted to regard me skeptically. “I know you told Blake he was your favorite yesterday.”

“It’s not a competition,” I said.

They all took turns being my favorite.

Dinner was delicious, the house cozy.

Halfway through dinner, Blake brought up marriage.

Archer almost choked on his spaghetti.

Dylan pounded on his back and said, “I think it’s a good idea.”

“How’s that going to work?” I held up my hands in front of me. “I only have two ring fingers.”

I was just teasing. I’d already decided that I was going to marry all three of these men.

“That’s not the only logistical