Crazy (The Gibson Boys #4)(82)

I want to cry. I’m not sure if it’s because Nana is actually beaming at the little old man who has her by the hand as they amble toward the door or because I know she’s right and her grandsons are going to kill her.

Or that they’re going to kill me because, unfortunately, this entire thing is kind of my fault.

“Well, go take the matches away while you can and prepare,” I say.

“Shit. Okay. I gotta go … do …. What, I don’t know. Maybe take cover.”

“Gotta go.”

“Hey, wait. About that change of plans—”

I end the call. I don’t have time for her shenanigans.

Nana is dressed in a bluish-purple dress that hits her mid-calf with giant white and red flowers on it. She also has on pearls. She looks absolutely lovely. And like she’s going to church. Not her grandson’s bar.

I want to cry.

“Hi,” I say as I reach them.

“Hi, honey,” Nana says. She pulls me to her and kisses my cheek. “I’m so excited for this.” She pats my hand.

She’s beaming. The woman is absolutely beaming. And as much as I want to redirect this little date or whatever it is, I can’t. I can’t take that happy away from her.

I’m here to bring happy. Not kill it.

“Um, so, you know that this place gets a little, you know, wild at night?” I say with a nervous laugh.

“We’ve been to bars before.” The man looks down at her and locks his hand with hers while he beams. “Not together, of course. This is our first time together, right, Michelle?”

She looks up at him and smiles like a high school girl going to prom.

They’re going to kill me. Peck is going to kill. Me.

“Let me get the door for you,” the man says.

“Dave, you’re such a gentleman.”

The door pulls open. Sounds of Crave billow out onto the sidewalk and past our ears. I’m pretty sure I hear someone shout something about dick popsicles, but if Nana hears it, she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Nana says. She places her hand on my forearm as she steps inside.

I laugh, my face screwed up like I might cry.

Because I might.

My nerves are so high I need a drink. My plan was to get a couple of shots of tequila before Peck gets here, and I put this harebrained plan into motion.

Nana’s eyes go wide as she takes in the fruits of Machlan’s labor. And the couple grinding so hard in the middle of the dance floor that they may as well be screwing.

“Ooh,” she says.

“Yeah. We can turn around and go back home,” I say, trying to steer her to turn around.

Dave laughs. “We’re old but not dead, Dylan. We’ve seen these things before.”

“In your grandson’s bar?” I ask Nana.

“Well, dear, no,” she says, clutching the string of pearls around her neck. “But Machlan can’t help if these people …” She gulps as the woman starts twerking. “Do whatever … that is.” She looks up at me. “Times sure have changed.”

I bet.

My eyes find Navie’s behind the bar. She looks as nervous as I feel. I hold out my hands to say, “I’m sorry,” but she fake cries, and I know we’re dead.

Or I’m dead.

The plan to win Peck’s heart is going to end with my heart and possibly other organs, depending on how mad they are, being nailed to the bulletin board and having darts thrown at them.

At me.

Like a witch in Salem.

I start to scan the bar for Peck. It’s not necessary, though. Because I have four of the hottest, most handsome, and shocked men barreling toward me.

This time, I clutch Nana’s hand. Even though she’s kind of the enemy right now. But they won’t kill her. They love her.

Which is why they’ll kill me.

I drop her hand and give her a small grin before stepping to the side and a few inches closer to the door.

My plans are halted, probably indefinitely, as I focus on preserving my life.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is this?” Machlan asks.

He and Peck stand shoulder to shoulder. Lance and Walker are behind them, whispering. I’m not sure which set of men I’m more worried about at the moment. The two in the front, ready to throw tantrums, or the two in the back who are whispering back and forth.

“Machlan, I don’t care that we’re in your bar,” Nana says. “I still won’t listen to that mouth.”

“You’re about to hear a lot worse than that,” he says. “What on earth are you doing here? Please, someone tell me.”

Nana’s face breaks into a smile. And I know she’s going to do it. She’s going to out me. She’s going to throw me under the bus.

“Well, I can’t really say because I think it’s a surprise. But when Dylan invited me tonight, I had to come.”

And dead.

All four of their heads, six if you count Nana and Dave, whip around to face me. Machlan is seething. Walker isn’t amused, but Lance is. I think. And Peck …

I can’t tell if he’s happy to see me or not. He starts to smile and then realizes his grandmother is two feet from him in a place where we dirty-danced not that long ago.