a hair out of her face, looking at me beneath long lashes. “What?”
I looked away, caught staring. There seemed to be no safe way to appreciate Grace. If I let my eyes rove her body, she’d know me for a creep. If I drank in the details of her face, she shied away. “Lunch. My aunt cooked fish for us.”
Grace rose, leaving a mound of notebooks in her wake.
“Did you already translate all of those?” My Egyptian wasn’t good, but that was incredible.
Her musical laugh made me smile. “Hardly. There’s no organization, so I have no idea which ones came first or last. I want to start with the last ones, if possible. How many of these did he keep?”
“All of them. Dad always had a journal. Drew maps, wrote instructions. If it was in his brain, it’s here.” I looked around at the stacks of boxes. “Somewhere.”
Grace followed me out to the kitchen, taking a place at the end of the table.
Aunt Emelia untied her apron and hung it on the rack, then sat with us. “We’ll go down to the clinic after lunch, Brynner. Get those X-rays done. Catch up on your records.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, can’t leave Grace alone with Dad’s journals. I’ll stay here just in case she needs anything. Plus, if I get any more X-rays, I might start glowing in the dark.”
“I don’t mind going. I could use a break to clear my head.” Grace put down her fork. “If you don’t mind the company.”
“I do.” While spending more time with Grace was my number one priority, I was not taking her with me to my checkup. Embarrassing wouldn’t begin to describe that. Of course, having a checkup from the woman who raised you through puberty didn’t exactly fit on my list of “things I can’t wait to do.”
“Well, if you trust Grace with your father’s journals, I’ll trust her.” My aunt watched me over her bifocals.
Clearly a test, one I’d normally fail. If I said no, Grace wouldn’t speak to me again. If I said yes, it might be a lie. Or even worse, the truth. Because the nagging part of me I usually ignored told me Grace wasn’t here because of me.
I could live with that. “I trust her.”
I must have waited too long to answer. She’d read my face. Knew the conflict inside, or at least suspected it.
Emelia looked away. “Then it’s settled. Grace, you are welcome to spend time on the porch swing if you need to get away. If you leave, just pull the front door closed.”
I’d rather have gone back to bed after lunch. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need you to drag me into the office for a checkup.”
Aunt Emelia held up her palms. “Men are just bigger boys. Take care of yourself like a man, and I’ll treat you like one.”
I glanced over to Grace, who didn’t move fast enough to hide her smile. Not by a long shot. Then she reached over and touched my arm, her fingertips cool and smooth. “The sheriff wanted to know if you would check out a dead horse.”
I didn’t respond, being more focused on the chills where she’d brushed against me. When her words finally sank in, they frustrated me for many reasons, not the least of which was I didn’t want to stop thinking about Grace, and her fingertips, and deep blue eyes.
Which I was staring at again. Must focus. Focus. Not focus on Grace. “Sorry. Let’s say it turned out that it really was a meatskin. I seem to recall direct orders not to expose you to anything dead. I’m not sure you should even be eating that fish.” I forked another bite of my own.
Grace shrugged. “You didn’t have a problem disobeying orders before.”
Nothing was worth risking my operative status, or dragging Grace back into a danger zone before I got to know her very, very well. “That was the old me. I’m turning over a new leaf, at least until you are off my team.”
“Excellent,” said Aunt Emelia. “In that case, you’ll cooperate completely.”
Grace and Emelia exchanged a knowing grin. Conspiring against me together.
So I went to the clinic, rubbing my fingers over the spot on my arm where her skin had met mine.
Ten
GRACE
After Aunt Emelia hauled Brynner away, I went out to the porch to work. I rocked in the swing, savoring a soft breeze. How on earth would I make sense of the jumbled mess in even one of the journals,