Page 30 of The Rented Bride

Confusion played across her face, then understanding melted into a narrow-eyed look. “I sure do remember,” she said. “But let’s not disagree like that again. You won’t win any better now than you did then.”

His grandfather laughed a rusty laugh. “She beat you at an argument, lad? That’s no easy feat.” He coughed harder.

“Granddad—” Trent began.

Ms. Adams leaned forward and picked up the glass of water from the nightstand. “Here.”

She placed the glass in his hand, but kept her fingers wrapped around his as she helped him lift the glass to his lips. He took a sip, coughed again, then took another sip. He coughed again, but not so violently. He took another sip of water, then nodded he’d finished. She set the glass on the nightstand.

He relaxed back against the pillow. “Thank you, Cassandra.”

She grimaced. “The only person who calls me Cassandra is my mother. Call me Cassie.”

“Thank you, Cassie.”

“I’d say you need some rest,” she said. “You’re looking tired.”

He nodded, his eyes beginning to close. “I am very happy to finally meet you.” He looked at Trent. “You enjoy the party, Grandson,” he said, and closed his eyes so suddenly that Trent had to grasp his wrist and check for a pulse. Strong and even.

Trent pulled back the blanket, gently laid his arm on the mattress, then pulled the covers up over him. “Ms. Adams,” he whispered, and motioned her to leave with him.

She hurried past him, and Trent cast a final glance at his grandfather before following. They reached the door and she stopped.

“Mr. Weston—”

“In the hallway,” he said.

She shook her head, and whispered, “You don’t understand, the closet.”

“Please, Ms. Adams.”

“The iguana,” she said. “We have to get it out of the closet.”

Had he heard right? “Did you say iguana?”

She nodded.

“How the hell—” He broke off and cast a glance at his grandfather. He was sound asleep. Trent leaned close and said, “You’re telling me there is an iguana in my closet.”

“I think so.”

“What the hell are you doing bringing an iguana in here?”

Her expression darkened. “Well I didn’t invite him, if that’s what you’re accusing.”

Trent stared for two heartbeats, at a loss for words then said, “What makes you think it’s in my grandfather’s closet?”

“I chased it in here.”

A hundred questions ricocheted around his brain, but he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

“Wait a minute,” she began.

“Do you want to catch it?” he demanded.

Her eyes flashed. “I can catch it.”

“Stay put.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue, but stepped into the walk-in closet and pulled the door closed behind him.