Page 77 of Guarding Grace
Grace looked up from petting Bonnie. “That’s a cat tracker, in case he gets out. I can find him with an app on my phone. Do you have any coin batteries? The one in his collar just died.”
“Not here, but I’ll get you one. Okay to take this with me?” When she nodded, I unsnapped his collar and pocketed it.
Constance lifted a bag. “Pardon the way everything is stuffed in plastic bags, but that’s what you get when you send a man to pack.”
They both giggled.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Grace said.
“They’re so cute,” Constance gushed as Bonnie disappeared under the sectional.
Grace picked up Clyde. “Thank you. I love them, but sometimes they drive me crazy.”
Constance looked at me. “Where should I put her clothes?”
I pointed. “Guest room is the first door on the right.”
Grace picked up a bag and followed her, and I brought the rest. As soon as unpacking morphed into discussing where to hang things and how to organize them, I left the room. Sorting blouses by color was not my thing.
“Hey, Constance, would you like anything?” I called from the kitchen.
“Just water, thanks,” she called back. “Now this is cute,” I heard her tell Grace.
Clyde appeared in the kitchen. Seems sorting wasn’t his thing either.
A moment later, I heard Constance again. “You really are on a serious campaign against VPL.”
“What do you mean?”
“You only have thongs here. My God, these are sexy. Where did you find these?”
I almost swallowed my tongue. I couldn’t stop an image from forming in my head of Grace in a tiny red thong.
“No, that’s not right,” Grace said. “Most of my panties?—”
“Cover more than these?”
“Of course.”
Constance laughed. “This is what you get when a badass SEAL packs for you. He only includes what he wants you to wear.”
I should have been the one going through Grace’s underwear drawer, not Zane.
“Is there any way I can get my other underwear from my apartment?” Grace asked. “I mean, I’d rather not have to order more online. Terry’s like a rabid guard dog. I doubt he’ll let me go shopping. He doesn’t even want me to go in to work.”
“He’s just looking out for you,” Constance said. “Would you rather have him be less serious about your safety?”
Right on.I pumped my fist at Constance’s support.
“Maybe not, but a little less like my jailer would be good,” Grace mumbled.
“I’ll see if I can get your things, or I can go shopping for you.”
“I’d like that.” Grace’s voice sounded lighter.
Less like her jailer—I’d have to remember that. Leaning against the counter, I imagined telling Constance to take a hike and going lingerie shopping for Grace myself. No,withGrace would be better. Now there was an idea that was less jailer-like.
I poured myself a glass of water while I waited.
