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She stiffened. I retreated and leaned back in the seat. If she thought I’d let her out of sight again, she was mistaken. We pulled up to her house, and Grace marched up the porch steps, pulling on my wrist.
“No need to be hasty. We’ve got time.”
She stopped and turned around. “You mean,you’vegot time. I don’t. My eggs are shriveling, and my uterus is getting more hostile every day.” She stretched out her arm with the cuff. “Take these off. I’d like to freshen up.”
“Fine, but step outside this house again without me knowing, and they’re going back on.”
I unlocked the cuffs and watched her ass sway back and forth as she walked upstairs, sending all the wrong signals to my dick. I heard the faucet turned on, and I dialed Scar’s number. “Your mother’s coming for dinner this evening to speak with Grace.”
“Cancel it. She can’t tell her the truth. Not yet. You know Grace. If she realizes how important a target she is, she’ll freak.”
“I don’t think she’s freaking out enough.”
“Then it’s your job to ensure she does. Chad gained access to Beth’s medical records. It’s a matter of time before he connects the dots.”
“I think he’s connected them already. I don’t know how, but he already knows. Otherwise, the salon wouldn’t have been attacked. I’d bet my balls on it. Did you get an ID on the unmarked SUV?”
“No. We’re checking local surveillance for an ID on the driver. You just keep Grace out of the way. Oh, and do me a favor?”
“Yeah?”
“Get close to her. She’ll need you once she learns the truth.”
“Yeah. Talk soon.” I spewed a breath out of my nose and hung up.
The shower continued upstairs and my stomach threatened to cave in. I opened the fridge and pantry and gathered the ingredients to make a vegetariancasado, a traditional Costa Rican dish I’d become fond of during my time there. I was setting the table in the solarium just as Grace walked in.
“Smells delicious.”
“It’s the sautéed veggies. I know you like avocado, beans, and, well, pretty much everything on that plate. Hope you’re hungry.”
She smiled widely. “Thank you. I’m starving.”
“Good. Wine? Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t drink anymore.”
She straightened her frame. “You know what? I think I need a glass after this morning.”
I poured her favorite sparkling rosé. She held the glass under her nose and closed her eyes. Her cheeks quickly took the wine’s shade, and her shoulders relaxed. “It’s been so long.”
I lifted a brow. Her eyes flew open as if she’d just heard her hypocrisy. She was scarred, and I was the one who’d caused the pain. Grace had every right to question my drinking.
“This won’t hurt my chances of maturing eggs, will it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”
She took a tiny sip, then another, instantly relaxing into the chair. “How did the pool cleaning go?”
“Good. A couple more days and we’ll take a dip.”
“You know, I could hire a company.”
“Yet you haven’t in five years.”
She returned to her food.
The fresh scent of cilantro and lime wafted around my nose, but I set my fork aside and leaned forward on the table. “When couples struggle with infertility but take care of their mental health and their personal needs first, their chances of conceiving increase. They stop worrying about daily temperatures, cycles, positions, and PH balances. They enjoy the process and all the sex in the world, lose track of time and place, relax, and become pregnant. You should try it sometimes.”
She took another sip. Her brows drew together and her mouth slowly lifted into a smirk. “Well, it’s not like I can have sex with a turkey baster full of sperm three times a day.”
