Page 33 of Taken By the Pack

“Do we look like we’re kidding?” Jake asks, crossing his arms.

Grace leans back against the counter, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

“Believe it,” I say. “You’re safer this way.”

She looks up at me, then at Jake. Her shoulders slump. “Fine. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m holding both of you responsible.”

“Deal,” Jake says.

I smirk. “Guess we’re a pack now.”

Grace rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath. But I catch the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

“Okay, how about we test this new dynamic out in public…” Jake says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“This town is known for gossip,” Grace says, rubbing at her knuckles. “I think we should be seen out together as evidence that we’re together. That way no one will get close enough to… me.”

I nod.

“That’s what I was thinking. We can do lunch at Rhys’s place?” Jake asks.

“I have to go fishing right now, so how about later in the day? Does six work?” I ask. I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I need to get away from here, but I can’t stay away.

This is insane.

This is an insane plan.

And I started it.

Then Grace says, “Six works. Thanks again for doing this.”

Suddenly, the plan doesn’t seem as insane.

“Perfect. I have to leave, but how about we all meet there?” Jake asks.

I nod.

Jake looks from Grace to me one last time before saying goodbye and heading out.

I’ve known him for years, but our interactions were limited to work. He’s an unusual guy, but he does seem to be truly committed to her. I wonder how long she’s been ignoring his obvious interest in her.

As the jingle fades, we realize we’re alone again. There’s a weird silence.

Grace is standing there, looking like she’s not sure what to do with herself. I drag a hand through my hair and decide to just rip the bandage off. “About what happened…”

Her gaze snaps to me, those hazel eyes already a little too good at reading me. “I overstepped,” she says quickly, like she’s trying to cut me off before I say something worse.

“You didn’t,” I say, which is technically a lie. She absolutely fucking did. But I’m the one who let it happen, so… who’s really to blame here?

“That picture…” I pause, trying to get the words out without choking on them. “It belonged to someone I knew. Someone I loved… and lost.”

Her eyes widen, and she whispers, “Oh. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“No one does,” I mutter. And I hate how raw it sounds coming out of my mouth. I clear my throat and try to shove the conversation in a different direction. “Anyway. Thanks for last night. And I’m sorry for leaving you like that.”

Her cheeks flush, and I know damn well she’s not thinking about the blanket or the tea. “Uh, yeah. You’re welcome.”

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