“So will you.”

“Not if I don’t get married.”

“Of course you’ll get married.”

“Grandma. I’m thirty-three. Melanie was probably my best shot. Give the brooch to Katie.”

“You are the eldest.”

“Olav the Third came up with that rule in 1075. A few things have changed since then.”

“The important things haven’t.”

“Wake up and smell the bridal bouquets. We’re well into the twenty-first century. The British royal family is even talking about pushing girls up in the line of succession.”

“We’re not the British royal family.”

“Well, thank God for that. I’d hate to have the crown jewels on my conscience.”

Grandma rolled her eyes at his irreverence. She started down the stairs, and Cole automatically offered his arm and matched his pace to hers.

She gripped his elbow with a blue-veined hand. “Just because you’re too lazy to find a bride-”

“Lazy?”

She tipped her chin to stare up at him. “Yes, Cole Nathaniel Walker Erickson. Lazy.”

Cole tried not to smile at the ridiculous accusation. “All the more reason not to trust me with the family treasure.”

“All the more reason to use a cattle prod.”

He pulled back. “Ouch. Grandma, I’m shocked.”

“Shocked? Oh, that you will be. Several thousand volts if you don’t get your hindquarters out there and find another bride.” Then her expression softened and she reached up to pat his cheek. “You’re my grandson, and I love you dearly, but somebody has to make you face up to your weaknesses.”

“I’m a hopeless case, Grandma,” he told her honestly.

“People can change.”

Cole stopped next to his pickup and swung the passenger door open. He stared into her ageless, blue eyes. “Not me.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated. But if he wanted her support, he knew he had to be honest. “I make them cry, Grandma.”

“That’s because you leave them.”

“They leave me.”