Keep Her Safe(98)

Klein grimaces, and I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sympathetic or it’s all part of the act.

Meanwhile, Mantis walks with a slow, easy swagger, his hands tucked casually in his pockets, like he’s got nothing to hide, not a worry in the world. But before he disappears behind the door, he looks over his shoulder at us.

At Gracie.

His eyes narrow in challenge.

“I am just like my father, you son of a bitch,” she growls, too low for anyone but me to hear.

I loop my arm around hers and guide her out before she starts screaming profanities.



* * *



“We didn’t need that . . . or that . . . Five lemons?” Gracie dangles the fruit in the air in front of her before stuffing it into the fridge drawer. “We can’t possibly eat all this, Noah.”

“You’d be surprised how much I can eat.” I grin, patting my belly. I’m starved, my appetite having come back with a vengeance.

She groans, fishing out the bag of avocados. “You said you don’t eat these. Why would you buy them then?”

“Because I thought you wanted them?” I say slowly, warily.

“I hate avocados!”

I don’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. “Well, if you’d tell me what you want instead of playing your little game, I wouldn’t have had to guess.” I don’t think I’ve ever been more confused in a grocery store than I was today, trailing behind Gracie in the local HEB, watching her fondle fruits and vegetables before quietly putting them back on the shelf. What else was I supposed to do besides scoop them up and put them in the cart?

“It wasn’t a game. It’s . . .” Her voice trails off with a sigh of exasperation.

“It’s what?” I toss Cyclops a dog bone as I rifle through the bags on the counter, looking for a quick snack. She’s right. The two of us can’t eat all this. We shouldn’t have gone shopping while I was hungry.

“It’s stupid. It’s just something I do when I go grocery shopping.” Her cheeks flush.

I settle on an apple, giving it a rinse as I watch her pointedly, waiting for her to explain.

“We couldn’t afford fresh stuff. When I was younger, I’d watch people squeeze avocados and check tomatoes and peppers for bruises, before picking the best ones to put in their cart. So I started pretending I was doing the same thing.

“Then we’d head over to the canned goods aisles, to buy whatever was on sale. Sometimes, when no one was looking, my nan would ‘accidentally’ knock an expensive can off the shelf with her elbow, just so it’d dent, ’cause you can get a discount on dented cans.”

“So you never had fresh food?”

“A special treat, here or there. On my birthday and for Christmas. Nan would buy those little Christmas oranges—”

“Clementines?”

“Yeah, those. And a frozen turkey, that she’d bake. Just a small one. But we mostly ate canned tuna. Or Spam. Have you ever eaten Spam?”

“Can’t say I have.” I hide my cringe by biting a chunk out of my apple. My mom likened Spam to the canned dog food we’d feed Jake.

Gracie smiles, but it’s bittersweet. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. I’ll bet the grocery stores around this neighborhood don’t stock a lot of it. Anyway, like I said. It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not.” I reach over to give her slender forearm what I hope is a comforting rub. I let my hand linger there for a long moment, the feel of her silky skin against mine too hard to resist. Thoughts of this morning—of her warm, soft body in my arms, of her pliable lips opening for me—flood my mind and set my heart racing.

But the mood has shifted since this morning, in those brief, intimate moments where there was just her and me. Klein invaded, and then we went to The Lucky Nine and the stark reality of why Gracie’s here in the first place came crashing back. I haven’t had the nerve to kiss her again.

I’ve thought about it a hundred times, though.

And just the thought of Gracie struggling to pay her bills or having to eat canned meat, or living next to a lowlife like that Sims guy, ever again has me panicking. “Hey, so I was thinking, you should move back to Texas.”

She frowns as she pulls away from me—from my touch—to unload more groceries. “Why?”

“Because I have this big house to myself. Why not stay here? You don’t have to pay rent. You could get a job, and save your money.”

“You’re not obligated to pay for what others have done to us, Noah,” she says quietly. She leans over to stuff meat into drawers in the fridge, giving me a view I could sit here and appreciate for days.

“That’s not why I’m doing this,” I insist.

She seems to consider it. “Is it even a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because of—” She cuts herself off, her brow furrowing. “Things are getting complicated.”

Complicated because of what’s happening between us? This thing that’s come out of nowhere, and yet has probably been here all along? At least, it has on my end.

Or complicated with the investigation? With what Silas might know, what he may be lying about?

A soft, shaky sigh sails from her full lips. “Let’s see if Kristian can clear my dad’s name, first. Okay?”