Free Pushed by Corrine Jackson

night.”
    “I’ll keep you awake,” he said.
    I raised my brows at him, and he flushed, his cheeks turning pink.
    “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
    “Damn,” I muttered, to tease him.
    He got that look in his eyes, the one that said I’d thrown down a challenge he would accept all too willingly. For two seconds I thought about the sparks that might fly where people could see them, and then my mind shut down because Asher’s lips touched mine.
    I thought, I love you , and he smiled.
    We didn’t speak for a long time after that.
     
    I took the escalator alone with Asher trailing a good twenty feet behind me. My grandfather would meet me at baggage claim, and Asher and I had decided that he and my grandfather shouldn’t meet until we knew more. We’d kissed good-bye at the gate, and it had been difficult to let him go.
    A group of people waited at the bottom of the escalator, a few holding up signs. Nerves had my hands shaking, and I rubbed my damp palms against my jeans. Would I know my grandfather? Would I recognize him, or somehow feel a pang of kinship because we had the same blood running in our veins?
    I studied the crowd, but no one person stood out. Then, a man with a tuft of white hair shoved his way to the front. Larger than any man I’d ever seen, he was at least six and a half feet tall. The span of shoulders would easily force him to turn sideways to pass through doorways. I imagined if his skin were green, he could pass for an aging Hulk. He had the presence to go with his appearance, too. It wasn’t just his size that made people get out of his way. The man had a commanding air about him that demanded it.
    Without a doubt, this scowling man was François Marche, my grandfather.
    He took one look at me and his scowl melted into a huge grin that transformed his entire face from slightly menacing to mischievous overgrown child. My foot had scarcely left the escalator step when he took one ginormous step toward me and swooped me into his arms.
    The air pushed out of me in a whoosh, and my grandfather immediately loosened his grip, allowing me to step back. I tossed a quick look over my shoulder in time to see Asher settling back into a casual stance. For a moment, he’d mistaken my grandfather’s aggressive greeting for an attack and gone into Protector mode.
    “I hope you are Remy, or I’m going to be very embarrassed.”
    My grandfather rested a hand on my back and steered me away from the escalator so other people could pass. His gravelly voice suited him, and the warmth in it helped me to relax a little.
    I smiled. “I’m Remy.”
    “Well, then,” he answered. He clicked his tongue and held out his arms, indicating I should spin. “Let me have a look at you.”
    I spun about. “Will I do?”
    He folded his arms, pretending to think about it, but I could see his eyes twinkling with hidden laughter.
    “Too skinny by far. Sadly, that won’t change while you’re under my roof. I’m a lousy cook. But I guess you’ll do.”
    I waited, tapping my foot impatiently. He cocked one eyebrow at me, and I made a spinning motion in the air with my finger.
    “I do believe you take after your mother,” my grandfather muttered, but he spun about like I had a moment ago. “Will I do?” he asked.
    I shrugged. “Aside from your appalling lack of skill in the kitchen? I suppose we can eat out.”
    We stood there, grinning at each other like idiots.
    And I realized that I liked my grandfather a great deal.
     
    My grandfather had to be in his sixties but, except for the shocking cloud of white hair, you never could have guessed it. He refused to let me help with my bags, lifting them with ease. I hadn’t known a lot of old people, but when I thought of them, I guess I expected them to be crabby. François Marche laughed a lot, and he had a booming laugh that made me smile in response.
    The short drive from the airport to the city passed quickly and with none of the awkward small talk I’d