“No, ma’am, we’re here to help him move,” I said, gesturing at the home in front of us.
“Huh. Harold didn’t tell me he hired movers.” Her eyes narrowed, shifting between Williams and me. “Do I know you two?”
“Maybe?” Williams said. “We both—”
I reached up and pinched his side. Hard.
“Ouch, fuck. Why did you do that?”
“Shutup, Williams.”
She crossed her arms, eyes still narrowed in suspicion, and I saw the moment she realized it. Her mouth fell open, eyes took up half her face. “You—”
“Maude, quit harassing these two. Go watchWheel of Fortune.”
The man who came out from the house in front of us was tall, with a proud bearing and thick white hair combed off his face. Dressed in a white, short-sleeved button-down and a purple bow tie, he looked more like he was about to officiate a wedding.
“Harold, do you know—”
“Maude,” he interrupted, “I told you to keep your nose out of my business.”
She pulled a disposal camera out of the pocket of her robe, brought it to her face, and snapped a picture, immediately cranking the little plastic wheel to take another one.
When I glanced over, Williams was giving her a big toothy grin.
Idiot.
“Maude, go inside,” Remi’s grandfather said more loudly. “And don’t you go calling everyone to gossip.”
She tightened the belt on her bathrobe with a haughty sniff. “You’re not my boss, Harold.”
“No, but you need one,” he muttered. “Damn busybody.”
When she disappeared into her house with an angry slam of the front door, he shook his head before giving me his full attention.
“Sir, I’m Archer.” I held out my hand. He eyed it for a moment, his gaze sharp and knowing, then clasped it firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Harold Sinclair. I’ve been a Buffalo fan my entire life, but I’ll circle back later on whether it’s a pleasure to meet you two.” He brought himself up to his full height, trying as best he could to straighten his shoulders. “I like watching a game of football, especially with my great-grandson, but I won’t blow smoke up your asses because you make more money than I do.”
“Fair enough.” I elbowed the rookie. “This is Grant Williams.”
Harold’s eyes widened. “The new receiver from Michigan? You had a hell of a senior year, kid.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How’d he get you to come with?”
“Blackmail,” Williams answered easily. “I embarrassed the hell out of him the other day with your granddaughter, sir. He’s got quite a crush on her, and this is my punishment if I ever want to catch touchdowns this year.”
Tongue slicking over my front teeth, I gave Williams an unamused look. “Thanks,” I said tersely. “That’s an excellent way to start off on the right foot.”
The rookie shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I believe in telling the truth whenever you can.”
“Maybe not with this,” I snapped.
Remi’s grandfather’s bewildered gaze bounced between the two of us. I sucked in a breath, waiting to see how he’d react.
He started laughing.