Page 50 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

“Grayson? Are you awake?” Savannah was moving now beside him, though she still remained close against him.

Which caused a certain part of him to react, despite how busy it had already been that evening.

“Yes,” he said in response to her question.

“I—as much as I’ve enjoyed our time together, I’m worried again. Still. I—I can’t just stay here and wait and maybe be found this time. Did you get any of the things we discussed?”

“Some, but—well, I heard about what happened to Wright while I was shopping and just headed here. I figured you might need the company.” And he needed to see her, too, out of his caring for her, his concern for her.

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded low. Humble, even. He turned to pull her tightly into his arms as they remained lying there. Her body heat, and the feel of her flesh against him once more, turned him on again.

But what they had done before, as wonderful as it was, had been somewhat inappropriate. He realized that adding to it now would only be more so—and they needed to focus on her case, not their chemistry.

“Hey,” he said. “Let’s get up and have some of that wonderful food I brought tonight and I’ll show you what disguise stuff I’ve already bought. And then—well, we can talk about what comes next.”

Grayson had some ideas about what should come next—but wished he could just whisk Savannah out of this place and...

Hey. He did know of someplace he could potentially move her if necessary.

More to think about, more to discuss, he thought.

“Sounds good,” was Savannah’s reply. Sadly, but not unexpectedly, she moved away from him and got out of bed on the other side.

And started pulling her clothes on. So of course he did the same.

* * *

After leaving the bed, they ate dinner. It consisted mostly of a couple of sandwiches already put together and purchased in town by Grayson—roast beef, pretty good. She enjoyed hers.

She enjoyed the company even more.

Her mind kept hopping back into bed with him, though they had put that behind them, at least for now.

And every time her thoughts started back on what had happened that day in town, what the possible consequences to her might be, she forced them back on the good things that had happened today instead.

Or at least she tried to.

Once they’d finished their meal, Grayson went back out to his car for some additional bags, which he handed her. “Sorry, not everything is there since I didn’t have time to get it,” he said, “but you can start working on your disguise with this stuff. I’ll try to find the rest tomorrow.”

Which meant he would leave tonight, of course. She would be alone again—with her thoughts.

She could handle it. She had to.

Forcing herself not to think about that, she looked inside the bags, took some contents out and laid them on the table. They included a lot of the eye makeup she had asked for but not all of it. Nor were the cream and foundation there.

“I think I’ll wait right now to see if you are able to get the rest before I start experimenting,” she told Grayson, although if this was all she acquired, she would make the best of it.

“I want to get some of the clothes you mentioned, too—the droopy, casual kind of things that you’ve likely never worn before—but no one you know is likely to reco

gnize you in.”

“Right,” she said. “After all, I’m a society girl and always looked that way.” She shrugged. That was the truth, after all. She figured her casual clothing generally cost more than a lot of women’s dressiest stuff did. She’d sometimes wondered if she should start dressing “normally” but was glad now she hadn’t.

Not when she didn’t want anyone to know who she was. Except Grayson.

Grayson. Was she trusting him too much? She certainly was relying on him a lot. But what else could she do—at least for now?

After she went through the things he had brought, they jokingly discussed it, trading ideas on how she could change her appearance the way actors were changed—into zombies or superheroes or gorillas or anything other than who they were.

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