Page 39 of Faking the Pass
Wilder took good care of his employees, and they were usually doing much more important jobs than clandestine grocery runs.
The man walked into the kitchen then pulled off his hat. It was Gray Lupine.
I’d known him for a while. Like most of the other guys Wilder employed, he’d served with him on the same SEAL team.
Gray no longer worked for Wilder, but he was one of his closest and most trusted friends.
The last time I’d seen him was when the two of them had come to watch the Nauticals’ summer training camp.
Gray gave me a big smile, holding up the grocery bags.
“Anyone ever tell you that you live like a monk? I mean, where are all the trans-fats and partially hydrogenated seed oils? Where are the Ring Dings? You might think a pro football player lived here or something.”
He set the bags on the counter, and we gripped hands.
“Thanks man,” I said. “I literally don’t know what we would have done.”
The way Gray raised his brows and looked side to side, I could practically hear the silent questions he sent my way.
We? And where is she?
“You can sit up,” I said to Rosie. “He’s a friend. We can trust him.”
She’d been lying flat on the couch, obscured by its side panels. Now she sat up, her hair mussed, looking fucking stunning in my old t-shirt.
Giving him a sheepish grin, she raised one hand in a wave.
“Hi. I’m Rosie.”
“Good to meet you,” Gray said in an admirably unawed tone.
Of course he’d met plenty of famous people, so it probably didn’t affect him.
Blushing, she lifted her hands to her cheeks. “I’m sorry about my appearance. All my makeup and hair stuff is in there.”
She pointed to her suitcase at Gray’s feet then slid off the couch and came toward us. When she reached him, she extended a small hand to Gray.
“Thank you, Mr….”
“Gray,” he says.
“Mr. Gray.”
He laughed. “No. That’s my first name. Though back when we were on the SEAL teams together, everyone called me Wolf. My wife Scarlett thought that was my real name for a week after we met.”
“Sounds like an interesting story,” Rosie said.
“It was an interesting week.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, and we all laughed.
Reaching for her suitcase handle, Rosie said, “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna take this back to the room and put on some real clothes—not that your t-shirt hasn’t been a lifesaver, Presley.”
“Sure,” Gray and I said in unison, then we both watched her walk away and turn the corner toward the bedrooms.
After hearing a door click shut, he let out a low whistle. “You poor bastard. No wonder Wilder said you were in distress. It must be torture being trapped here withthat.”
He was being facetious, but it was true. It was just a different kind of torture than he imagined.
I admitted to nothing.
