A Taste of Magic by Tracy Madison Read Free Book Online Page B

Easier to get it over with than just stand and fret.
    The door opened almost immediately. Nate held a can of soda and smiled. Somehow, he was even better-looking than I’d remembered. Romance novel heroes had nothing on him. As an added bonus, he still smelled terrific.
    “There you are. We were beginning to wonder,” he said, motioning for me to come in.
    “We?” Hesitantly, I entered the lair of the cop, stopping on the threshold. Nate’s apartment was the same as mine, except in reverse. Only, for someone who’d moved in less than a week ago, his place appeared lived-in. Actual pictures graced his walls, and not one unpacked box anywhere.
    “She should be out soon.” Nate nodded toward the hallway. I assumed he meant the bathroom. He wore another pair of sweats (red) and a T-shirt (black). No grape juice stain this time.
    “We must be talking in different languages. I have no idea who ‘she’ is.” I edged over by the table, taking cover behind a chair.
    He grinned, and my heart tumbled. “Your grandmother. She’s been hanging out with me until you got home.”
    Grandma Verda was here? I’d been searching for her for hours, and she’d been tucked up with Nate? Little spiders crawled across my skin at the thought of what she may have said to him. After all, with Grandma Verda, you really never knew. “How did she end up here?”
    “We walked in together. It’s cold in the hallway, so I invited her in.” Nate set the soda can down and stepped toward me. “Let me take your coat. Sit down. Relax. We can talk while we wait.”
    I slipped my coat off, switching the mail from one hand to the other while I did. Part of me thought it was chivalrous he’d saved my elderly grandmother from standing around in a breezy hallway. Another part of me wondered why she’d come into a stranger’s home. “That was nice of you. I’m just shocked she agreed.”
    The corners of his lips twitched. “Why?”
    “She doesn’t know you. You could be a madman.” I wasn’t really worried about that, but come on—Grandma Verda wouldn’t have known. I needed to give her the strangers talk.
    “Ah, you’re a worrywart. That’s kind of cute.” He reached over, his fingers brushed across mine as he took the mail out of my grasp. Setting the stack on the table, he said, “Sit down, Elizabeth.”
    “It’s not cute, it’s common sense,” I blurted, still recovering from his touch. “There are crazy people in this world. As a cop, you should know that.”
    “But your grandmother and I know each other. No reason to worry.”
    They knew each other? I wanted to ask him how, but I kept the question to myself. I’d ask Grandma Verda later. In private. “What’s taking her so long? You sure she’s okay?”
    “I’m swell. I’ve been eavesdropping. It’s one of the few perks of being old.” Grandma Verda waltzed into the room as if she were a queen—which isn’t easy in fluorescent sneakers, but she pulled it off. “Glad to see you, Lizzie. We were just talking about you.”
    “We should get going.” I wanted to get her to my place so I could question her about the birthday card. Then, what she said hit me full force. “Talking about me? What do you mean, talking about me?” I saw a twinkle dance into Nate’s eyes. The cop seemed to be enjoying my torment.
    A frisson of something passed between us. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, but it could have been attraction. Maybe. Or not. I was pretty clueless on that stuff.
    “Nothing to concern yourself over,” Grandma said, pulling the recliner up and out and leaning back. As if she planned on staying awhile.
    Not if I could help it.
    “She asked me if I was a lemon, an orange, or a pomegranate. But she didn’t tell me how I should know,” Nate said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Or why it was important. Why don’t you explain it to me, Elizabeth?”
    My face flushed. I stayed behind the chair. “I don’t understand Grandma’s fruit versus men comparisons,