Grace leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “So what happened with the vehicle?”
“We told command it was enemy action,” Arthur said.
“Enemy action?”
“The sheep were very aggressive.”
Merlin’s mouth twitched. “One of them did try to eat Arthur’s bootlaces.”
“See?” Arthur pointed at Merlin again. “Hostile.”
Grace shook her head, still grinning. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“That’s the secret to Arthur,” Merlin said. “Nobody can.”
I reached for my water glass, hiding what might have been a smile. The afternoon had included three hours of mapping out contingencies for tomorrow’s authentication after Grace had left to make her calls. We’d brought in Tristan and Lance with updates, while Morganna confirmed she hadn’t learned more than she’d already reported.
Grace had stayed in Arthur’s room while the rest of us talked. When I’d checked on her at dinner time, she was curled up on the bed with her phone, reading. She’d looked up at me and smiled, and I’d stood there like an idiot for a full five seconds before remembering why I’d come to find her.
“What about you, Garrett?” Grace turned those green eyes on me. “Do you have any sheep stories?”
“No.”
“No embarrassing convoy incidents? No questionable map-reading?”
“I don’t read maps. That’s what GPS is for.”
“He’s exaggerating,” Arthur said. “Galahad was the best navigator on our Legacy team. He just doesn’t like admitting he’s good at things.”
“I’m adequate.”
“He guided us through a sandstorm once using nothing but a compass and spite.”
Grace raised an eyebrow at me. “Spite?”
“Merlin bet me I couldn’t do it.”
“No, no. I bet him he couldn’t do itblindfolded,” Merlin corrected. “He declined that part.”
“Because it was stupid.”
“It would have been impressive.”
“It would have gotten us killed.”
Grace’s ear-to-ear smile softened. “You guys really are a team, aren’t you? Like, not just coworkers. You’re family.”
The table went quiet for a beat.
“Something like that,” Arthur said.
Merlin raised his Scotch. “To family. The kind you choose.”
As I drank my water, Grace caught my eye over the rim of her wineglass. She’d redone her makeup before we’d left for the restaurant, doing what she called a smoky eye that she claimed was required for a nice meal at an expensive restaurant. I’d told her it was just us and the guys, but she’d insisted.
It was fucking sexy. But no more sexy than her with a clean face and her hair tied back when she was getting ready for bed. Hair up or down, makeup or none, pretty blouse or ragged sleep shirt, Grace was?—
Stop it, Garrett. This isn’t your life.
