leaned over to kiss her wrinkled, rouged cheek. “You’ve been making men speechless for the last forty years, Ducky. What do you think?”
Ducky snorted. “I think it’s a shame you never went into the con game, girl. You’re one smooth talker.”
“Then I should be able to talk you into two ice-cold beers—on the house.”
Ducky cackled. “You’ve got ’em. Go on and sit at my special table. I’ll be right there.”
Trace watched her grandmother bustle off toward the bar, a dazed expression on his face. Coping with more than one D’Onofrio at a time tended to have that effect on people. Especially when one of those D’Onofrios was Ducky. Chloe loved her spry, unconventional grandmother, despite her flirtation with the wrong side of the law.
Ducky had been there after Chloe’s mother went to prison, providing advice and comfort. Intensely loyal to everyone in the family, Ducky had taken a special interest in Chloe. She’d encouraged her granddaughter’s dream to go to design school and even cosigned her college loan papers. Ducky might not be your typical grandmother, but Chloe loved her fiercely.
“She’s really your grandmother?” Trace whispered as they seated themselves at the secluded table.
She nodded. “My father’s mother. Only she doesn’t allow her grandchildren to call her anything but Ducky.”
He scowled at her. “You might have told me sooner.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “But, Trace, I thought you already knew everything.”
Before he could reply, Ducky arrived at the table with three frosty bottles of beer in her hands. She held Trace’s bottle just out of his reach. “I don’t serve a drink to a man unless I know his name.”
“I’m Trace Callahan,” he replied.
Chloe leaned forward. “Ducky, we can’t stay long.”
Ducky sat down at the table. “You’ll stay long enough for this Callahan to tell me what his intentions are toward you.”
“My intentions are strictly honorable,” Trace assured her.
“That’s too bad,” Ducky replied with a disappointed sigh. “A man with strictly honorable intentions isn’t much fun. Have you even kissed her yet?”
“Ducky!” To Chloe’s consternation, a hot blush crept up her neck. “This is only our first date. Besides, we’re not here to talk about…kissing. We’re here about Ramon.”
“What’s that boy done now?”
“He’s in trouble,” Chloe replied, glossing over the finer details. “I have to find him. Has he been here this evening?”
Ducky shook her head. “No, but he was here last night. Had some bimbo with him, too.”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “A girl?”
“More like an Amazon,” Ducky said with a cackle. “Ramon definitely had his hands full.”
“Who was she?” Chloe asked.
Ducky shrugged. “Beats me. I was busy in the back. I just got a glimpse of her.”
“What about Cousin Viper,” Trace asked, “didn’t he ask to see her ID?”
“Nope.” Ducky tipped up her beer bottle. “He was too busy checking out her other vital statistics. She was one of those flashy blondes who wear too much makeup and look more than a little shopworn. I was afraid Ramon might be in over his head.”
Chloe slowly shook her head. “I didn’t even know he was dating anyone.”
“I’m not sure I’d call it a date,” Ducky said. “She flirted all night with Virgil. But your brother looked too nervous to notice.”
“Poor Ramon,” Chloe murmured. “He hasn’t had much luck with women. No wonder he’s been acting a little odd lately.”
“How can you tell?” Trace asked.
She ignored him. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Ducky set her beer bottle on the table. “I shouldn’t have told you that much. It’s time to let him go, Chloe. Ramon is a big boy now and he doesn’t need you to look after him anymore.”
Chloe blinked, surprised by the vehemence in her grandmother’s voice. “But he’s family.”
“Of course he’s family. But there’s more to life than work and cleaning up Ramon’s messes. Just look at you.” Ducky’s mouth drew down in a frown. “Out on a date with this mouthwatering man and you’re wasting it by worrying about your little brother.”
Her words pricked. How could Chloe enjoy a date with Trace or any other man if her brother was headed for trouble? How could she not lift a finger to stop it? “If you want to know the truth, Trace believes Ramon hit him in the head this evening when he came to pick me up.”
“Impossible,” Ducky said, without a flicker of her false eyelashes. “That isn’t Ramon’s style. He’s not a violent person.”
“He almost cut off my toe yesterday,” Trace said dryly.
“And tonight he answered the door with a carving knife in his hand.”
Ducky shook her head. “The sight of blood makes him hysterical. You must be mistaken, Mr. Callahan.”
“I have stitches to prove it,” Trace insisted. “But that’s not all. We found a bag full of—”
“Potato chips,” Chloe interjected, before Trace could spill the beans about the diamonds. “They were lying on the kitchen floor and Ramon had disappeared. I thought maybe something had happened to him.” She was lousy liar, which was evident by the expressions on the faces of her audience. But it was too late to backpedal now. “You know how Ramon loves potato chips. He wouldn’t leave a bag just lying around, especially on the floor. But maybe I am overreacting just a bit.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Ready, Trace?”
He looked at the untouched beer in front of him. “Uh…sure.”
“’Bye, Ducky.” She leaned over and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “Be good.”
“I’ll be good if you’ll be a little bit bad,” Ducky replied. Then she turned to Trace, her brown eyes serious. “I want you to promise that you’ll take good care of my granddaughter.”
“Ducky…” Chloe muttered.
“Promise me,” Ducky said, her voice more intense now and her bony fingers squeezing his forearm.
He winced. “I promise.”
Ducky’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.” Then she turned to Chloe. “I like him. I think you should keep this one.”
“Ducky, like I told you
