Page 85 of Tate
Gilly frowned. “Didn’t you come with Tate?”
“Yeah, but…well, he’s actually on my mother’s security staff. He’s my security detail.”
Silence between the two ladies.
Then Gilly smiled. “So. Tate Marshall is going to keep you safe?”
What did that mean?
“Sorry. It’s just…well, Tate has a reputation with his brothers for getting into trouble. I’m sure he’s a fantastic bodyguard.”
“He saved my life already. Twice.”
“And he was a Ranger, don’t forget that.” The voice that emerged from the screen door as it opened belonged to a younger, darker version of Tate, someone Glo had never met before. He wore a black T-shirt, faded jeans, flip-flops, and a smattering of dark whiskers along his strong jaw. His dark hair was cut military short, and from her quick assessment, he didn’t possess an ounce of body fat on his work-honed body.
“Ford!” Gilly said. “I didn’t know you were going to make it home.”
Ford gathered her into a hug. “Hey, future sis. Long time no see.”
Something panged inside Glo as she watched the exchange, the way Gilly so easily slid into the Marshall family. Like Kelsey, she simply belonged. Glo’s throat tightened.
Ford let Gilly go and was turning to Glo when his eyes widened. “Hey—the grill’s on fire!”
Black smoke puffed out of the grill, flames licking under the cover. She opened it?—
“No!” Kate shouted and turned, shielding the baby’s face.
The flames whooshed up, engulfing the grill.
Glo screamed.
The screen door banged open and a bigger man came out—he filled the porch with presence and intensity that could only belong to the oldest Marshall—Reuben. He took two steps andslammed the cover down, then turned off the gas. “Ford—get some baking soda?—”
But before Ford could obey, Tate came out of the house with a fire extinguisher. He opened the lid and sprayed down the fire still clinging to the charred chicken strips.
The hiss of the foam rose above the silence.
The fire died, the chicken coated in white.
He stepped back.
“Well. Okay then,” Reuben said. “That chicken is dead.”
“So is the grill,” Ford added.
But Glo could only stare at the foamy mess, now dissolving and running off the grill onto the porch.
Oh no.
She hadn’t even heard Gerri come out, but now the door closed behind her and every eye turned Gerri’s direction. Her mouth was a thin line, and she looked first at Reuben, then Tate.
Finally, “I hope you all like tuna.”
Then she turned back inside the house.
Silence. A beat. Then Gilly giggled, and Reuben smiled and closed the lid on the grill. “I’ll get this cleaned up.”
Glo couldn’t breathe. She walked off the porch, her hand to her chest.
