Page 27 of Guarding Grace

Millie looked over her glasses at us. “I can call an ambulance, if you need one.”

“No need. I just need to rest a bit.”

“Key?” Terry asked.

I pulled it out, and we probably looked hilarious as he leaned over so I could reach the lock.

“Nice to meet you,” he told Millie as we slid inside. He kicked the door closed.

Clyde ran up to us.

“Trip me and you’ll regret it, cat,” Terry warned.

Clyde took the hint and bolted for the bedroom.

At my pathetic excuse for a couch, Terry set me on my feet, which caused Bonnie to jump down and run to join Clyde under the bed.

Terry pointed to the cushions. “Pull your pants down and lie on your stomach.”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted. “Are you sure you don’t want me completely naked?”

A sly grin took over his face. “Want, yes. Need, no. Strip down as far as you feel like.”

Normally callous Terry had somehow morphed into joking Terry. After coming to my rescue twice in twenty-four hours, insisting on taking care of me, and now joking about wanting me naked, it seemed the surprisingly nice Disneyland side of him had resurfaced.

“Really?” I shimmied my pants down a few inches, adding a wide smile—a genuine one because I liked this side of him. Disneyland had been a wonderful day.

“Don’t be a tease. Lie down.”

Had it been a joke or not that he wanted to see me naked? Facing him, I impulsively pushed my pants down a few more inches. “Or what?”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes flared. Had I just waved a red flag in front of the bull? Yes, and I’d gotten to him.

“A nice girl like you shouldn’t want to find out,” he growled.

He’d never before referred to me asnice. He turned away. Yes, the nice Disneyland Terry was back. There was an actual gentleman hidden in there somewhere.

“Do you have any super glue?” he asked, still turned away.

I waited a few seconds to see if he’d turn back for the view he’d said he wanted. I found his question odd. “Sure. Top drawer to the right of the fridge.”Come on, turn around. Show me you’re human, dammit.

He cast a quick glance my way. “You best get on the couch now.”

Feeling I’d won this round, I flopped down on the couch, getting a few cat hairs in my mouth in the process. I wiped them away.

He strode into the kitchen. “I’ll also need alcohol, antiseptic ointment, Band-Aids, and a razor.”

“You won’t need the razor. I don’t have a hairy butt.”

He didn’t laugh.

“Okay. Razors are in the top left drawer in the bathroom. First aid stuff is one drawer lower, and isopropyl is under the sink.”

When he returned, I added, “Knives are two drawers to the left of the fridge.” My own words made me cringe. The idea of intentionally getting cut made me want to puke. At least this would be happening behind me, and I wouldn’t be able to see the blood. Just thinking the wordbloodmade my vision constrict for a moment.

Terry returned and, with a snap, broke open the head of the razor. “A razor blade is sharper and will hurt less.” He pulled needle-nose pliers from his pocket and settled on the couch by my knees.

I shifted to the side, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my naked butt. Was I really going to let him slice me with a razor blade? “Maybe I should go to the hospital for this…”