Page 62 of High Value Target

It was a forty-five-minute drive out to his place.

He turned down a long drive out in the country and stopped at a split log house with a porch. She could see some outbuildings in the distance and a coral with a couple of horses.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she leaned forward to peer out the windshield. “You have horses?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, so youdo ride.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Every time you’ve been around Pharaoh, you’ve been acting like it’s all foreign to you.”

“Well, that English-style shit is foreign to me.”

“Shit?”

“Sorry, babe. I’ve got no filter. Stuff just comes out of my mouth sometimes. Come on.”

He carried the cake and card under one arm and the flowers in his other hand as they walked in the front door. “Ma? Your boy’s home.”

Tinsley couldn’t help smiling at the way he said it.

“Grady?” His mother came around the corner, wiping her hands on an apron. She was small—really small in comparison to Grady’s height—and her hair was pulled up in a bun. Tinsley could tell it was blonde, but it was turning gray, especially in the front. There were wrinkles around her cornflower blue eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you. Or company. Hello there.”

Grady set the box down and held the flowers out to his mother. “Happy birthday, Ma.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, my. They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“Ma, this is Tinsley Wyatt. Tinsley, my mother, Ellen.”

Tinsley came forward, holding her hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Steele. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, dear. I have a feeling my boy had some help picking out these flowers.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Well, thank you. They’re beautiful. Come to the kitchen. I made a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Good, because I also brought you a cake.” Grady held out the box.

Ellen put a hand to her cheek. “Flowers and cake? My, my.”

“And a card,” Grady added.

“Well, let’s all have some.”

Tinsley unboxed it, while Ellen got some plates and silverware, and Grady got three mugs down.

“Sorry, Ma. I don’t have any candles, but we can still sing.”

“Oh, hush. You will not. I’m sixty-two, for goodness’ sake. No one needs to sing about that.” She picked up a knife. “My, it sure is beautiful. I almost hate to cut into it.”

“You better. I’m starved,” Grady said.

“It’s red velvet,” Tinsley tempted with a brow waggle.

“In that case, let’s dive in.” She cut three pieces and served them up. “This is the best surprise I’ve had in a long time. Flowers, a beautiful cake, and my son brought home a lovely girl.”

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