Page 14 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
“What are you up to, Grammy?”
“Me? Oh, nothing. Just helping a friend paint her house. Us Golden Girls need to stick together.”
She paused, then coughed dramatically.
“The fumes aren’t great though. Can’t even get high off them.”
My stomach sank.
“What the heck, Grammy? Why didn’t you ask me or Caleb to help?”
“I couldn’t get ahold of you. I tried.” Her voice dipped. “Anyway, I’m going to call you back, dear… I’m feeling a little dizzy.”
I ran inside, grabbed my truck keys.
“Where are you?”
She rattled off an address while I jammed my phone into the holder and fired up the engine.
?? ?? ??
I took the stairs two at a time, heart thumping harder with each step.
Fumes. Dizzy. Couldn’t reach me.
She’d said all the right things—just enough to activate every emergency protocol in my brain.
And now I was about to find Grammy Mercer face down on someone’s lounge floor because she thought she could still keep up with women half her age.
The door was open. I didn’t bother knocking.
“Grammy?”
I stepped inside—and stopped dead.
There she was.
Not on the floor. Not slumped over.
No.
She was perched comfortably on a cream armchair, ankles crossed, sipping tea from a dainty teacup like a queen.
Across the room, a woman in black leggings and a splattered T-shirt stood on tiptoes, paint roller in hand, coating one wall in warm eggshell white.
“Hello, Kade. What a pleasant surprise,” Grammy said, smiling over the rim of her teacup before taking another sip.
I opened my mouth to speak—
The woman turned.
Gasped.
“You!”
Juliette Morgan.
I looked at her.
