Page 9

Chapter

Nine

GRACE

O ur first morning in the hotel dawned gray, wet, and early. Goblin nuzzled at me, pawing the side of the bed. Everything hurt as I sat up and blinked slowly. When had I gone to bed? I hadn’t even remembered going to sleep.

Another soft plea from the puppy had me rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m coming,” I murmured. “Sorry.” After my shower, I’d put on clean clothes, t-shirt and leggings and I was still in them.

That was something. The half-light from the windows seemed muddy. Probably street lamps still. There was no clock in the bedroom. The light in the bathroom’s water closet was on. The dim illumination was more than enough to make my way from the bed, to the sitting room.

It seemed even darker in the sitting room, when I nailed my little toe on the corner of something , I swore. “Mother. Fuck. Ing. Puss. Buckets. Shit. Damn.”

Each word fired off like a bullet as I tried to not scream. Holy shit that hurt. Bones rolled off the sofa and to his feet, a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. I barely had time to register him before the halo of light blinded me.

He swung the light from me to the door, then back. Still dazzled, I blinked as he lowered the weapon. It was hard to see anything now with a big white blur seared into the center of my eyesight.

Abruptly, the light dipped. “What happened?” The soft question in Bones’ gruff tone soothed more than it should have.

“I kicked the chair.” Sad fact, but true.

“Probably shouldn’t do that.” The deadpan response had me glaring at him, mostly so I wouldn’t laugh.

“Really? Captain Boy, that’s what you have for me?”

“I could have said maybe curse quieter next time unless you need me to shoot the chair. If the chair needs shooting, I’ll do it.” The offer startled me nearly as much as it entertained.

Maybe because he made it as he sounded serious about it, I shook my head. “Not the chair’s fault.”

“Right.” The light was on my foot now. “No blood.”

Goblin bumped against my leg, a not so subtle reminder as to what had gotten me up in the first place. “Good, I just need to get my shoes and his harness. Goblin wants to go out.”

“I’ll take him,” Bones said, and I blinked over at him. He was in boxers and very little else.

“You’re not dressed,” I told him, smothering a yawn. “I’ll take him down the stairs the way we did last night.” No elevators, because that meant the lobby. The stairs opened next to external doors away from the reception desk.

The location was about fire safety, but it also offered us privacy.

Bones didn’t want anyone tracking us coming or going while we were here.

A part of me was certain the only reason he’d chosen a hotel was me.

They offered room service that could be delivered to the door and we never had to open it to them.

“You shouldn’t go out by yourself,” he said, the rustle of him pulling on his jeans followed me as I tracked down my shoes. Once I slipped them on, I lifted Goblin’s harness. He let me slide it on him without any argument.

I smothered another yawn, as I glanced back to find Bones dressed and ready before I finished snapping Goblin’s leash on. “Okay. Then come with. Can you grab me that hoodie?”

He brought it over and held it up so I could slide one arm, then the other in. I meant to hand him the leash so I could zip it up, but he did it. Then slid the hood up over my hair.

“Cute,” he said and I blinked.

Wait… had he just said cute?

But he didn’t give me time to ask before he opened the door and stepped out ahead of us. I struggled with another yawn, but followed him down the steps. It was definitely looking like a dreary day by the time we got downstairs.

Damp. Chilly. It seemed so utterly at odds with the past few days on the Riviera. We walked in a comfortable silence along the sleepy streets. There was a park not far from the hotel where we could let Goblin do his business.

One perk to Bones coming, he totally took care of cleaning up the poop. We were circling the far side of the park when the scents of fresh baked bread wafted out like on some cartoon cloud to wrap alluringly around me and tug.

My stomach registered its interest with a very noisy gurgle. Yeasty goodness and sugar twinned with the buttery notes to just make me hungrier. Not just bread, but pastries.

“We can get some pastries and coffee before we head back,” Bones offered, already detouring away from the route that took us back to the hotel. In no time at all we arrived at the boulangerie. “What do you want?”

When he opened the door, the sweet and savory rushed out to surround us. “Just coffee,” I said as Goblin and I stepped in. There were no other customers present, and someone called out from the back to wait just one moment.

Bones frowned at me. “You need to eat.”

“This is just a lot of carbs and sugar and we’re—” I broke off as a woman bustled out. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair a little frizzy. She was clearly in the middle of baking, but she had a warm, wide encompassing smile that was irresistible.

At her welcome, I greeted her with a good morning. Bones was still staring at me then he said, “Let’s do two loaves of the bread, then we’ll do two of each of these…”

I ordered the bread but frowned at the different pastries he was discussing. That was almost too much for one person and too much sugar altogether. When I didn’t translate, he shook his head.

“Deux de ceux-là, s’il vous pla?t.” He tapped against the case and held up two fingers as he gestured to each item.

He spoke French?

The corner of his mouth curved upward when he spared me another look as the shop mistress began to load up bags. “ Je voudrais deux grands cafés, s’il vous pla?t — un clair et sucré, l’autre noir. Et s’il y a quelque chose pour le chien, je prends aussi .”

I swore my mouth fell open as I continued to stare at him. If he spoke it, why had he made me translate? The woman beamed at him and she had the pastries and breads boxed up, then added the coffees before she slipped into the back, then returned with another box that she told us was for Goblin.

After Bones counted out the cash for the purchases, he picked it up, coffee cups and all and nodded to the door. A part of me wanted to be irritated, but I was too busy being flummoxed by his charming tone and smile.

Once we were back on the street, he passed me the coffee he’d ordered for me. Sweet and light. It was—perfect. Not a flat white, but definitely worth the walk and the wait. “Thank you,” I murmured.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “As for whether the food is too sweet or has too many carbs, you need to eat when food is available.”

The brisk tone demanded I pay attention and when I glared at him, he just met my gaze blandly.

“You need to eat, Grace. You starve yourself far too often.”

“I don’t,” I protested.

“You do,” he countered without hesitation nor did he raise his voice. “A lot of models do. I used to think it was a stereotype and you shouldn’t judge others based on an idea.”

“So why are you doing it?” Great, now I was a stereotype . Oddly, that stung. Especially since I thought we’d been getting along.

“Because I’m judging based on my observations of your behavior. You turn down meals more often than you eat them. When you do eat, you choose very small portions. You’ve protested sugar and carbohydrates. You don’t want to risk gaining any weight even if you are far too spare as it is.”

Far too…

I snapped my mouth shut on my own retort. Too spare. So now, I was too skinny. No, I couldn’t keep quiet on this… “The camera,” I began.

“Adds five pounds,” he finished for me. “I understand. It’s likely something you’ve heard from photographers, your managers, everyone.

Here’s something they don’t tell you—starving yourself might be good for the camera, but it’s absolute shit for your health.

You need your strength. One way to keep that up is to eat.

You need energy, something we collect through eating and sleeping. Right now, you’re limited on both.”

He wasn't wrong and didn’t that just grate even worse. I took another sip of coffee as we walked through the misting rain toward the hotel. As we let ourselves in that side door, then made our way up the stairs, he continued to say nothing.

Though the torture of inhaling the luscious treats all the way to our floor and suite made my stomach gurgle almost rudely. No amount of coffee sipping managed to shut it up. At all.

In the suite, he set the food down, then we stripped out of the jackets and hoodies. Finally, he grabbed a towel to wipe down Goblin before he removed his leash but left him in his harness. Once all of that was done, he stepped right into my path.

“Grace…”

There was just something in the way he said my name that had me freezing before he touched a finger to my chin, nudging it upwards until our gazes met.

“You have very little you have been able to control over the past few weeks. Even less these last few days. I may not agree with your reasoning, but I understand why you want to maintain here. You want to eventually go back to your work, to what you know.”

I swallowed. Because that was extremely true. I did want to go back to my life. “I get that it might not happen.” It was the first time I admitted it to myself.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged, letting the barely there contact of his fingers to my face fall away. “I can’t answer that. What I can tell you is that starving yourself seems to be more than a habit for you and that concerns me.”

I glanced down at my coffee. “It’s not starving myself, it’s just…” A sigh escaped me. “I don’t have an eating disorder.”

“Are you sure?” The blunt question jerked my head back up. “No judgment here.”

“Are you sure about that ?” Because it sounded like judgment to me.

That rare, faint smile returned. “I’m certain that you need to eat.

That each person needs a standard number of calories per day to survive.

The more you undercut those, the more likely it is you will lose energy, and muscle mass.

It can also affect your internal organs and more.

If you continue to do so, even if you are aware of how it affects your health because you’re compelled by some drive to do so—what would you call it? ”

Between the silence ballooned, filled with all the things he wasn’t saying and I wasn’t arguing. I didn’t have an eating disorder. I didn’t.

Except…

“If I eat something will you let this topic go?” Wow that came out petulant. This time, I raised a hand before he could say anything. Eyes closed, I clamped down on the irritation at being called out because I could see why he was doing it.

Goddammit, he was even being nice about it.

“Sorry,” I said, as I opened my eyes and met his gaze. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I can handle you,” he murmured, but went quiet when I glared again.

“Maybe you can. The point is—you are making a good argument for me to eat, so, I’ll eat something because I am hungry. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stuff myself with sugar.”

“I wouldn’t presume,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving upward again.

“Oh yes, you would,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

“Not as long as you do eat.” He motioned to the boxes. “Help yourself. Pretty sure a couple of those were stuffed breakfast sandwiches. So if you don’t want to go for the sweet, go for the savory.”

With that, he toed off his shoes then picked up the box she’d packed for Goblin. The smell coming off those was downright divine. Meat pies.

Goblin was already sitting up and looking eager. Bones took the time to feed Goblin and let me pick out what I wanted. I did get a breakfast sandwich, and I chose a raspberry tart looking pastry with cream cheese. It was small, terribly sweet, but small.

I told myself I’d only eat it after the breakfast sandwich if I was still hungry. Once I moved over to a chair and sat to eat, Bones helped himself. He carried almost a full box over and tucked right into it.

“How long are we going to stay here?”

“At least another day,” he told me, after wiping his mouth. “We’re holding here to give them time to catch up.”

My head snapped up. “Really?”

He nodded. “If we have no word by tomorrow, we move again.”

My heart sank.

“There’s a plan, Grace,” he said almost gently. “They know where I’m going and where I’d take you.”

That… helped. “Why can’t we call them?”

“Because we don’t know their status. If they aren’t secure and I call, it could endanger them.”

Oh.

I took another bite of the sandwich. It definitely helped to fill my growling stomach. “You think they’re all right then?”

Because I needed that hope.

“I think they’ll get the job done, then we’ll rendezvous.”

While the answer evaded some, it said we would see them again, not if .

Once I finished the sandwich, I washed it down with the last of my coffee. While the sandwich had been good, it was the coffee that really tasted like more, even if we didn’t have the option to make more here.

“Bones?”

He flicked his gaze up and it wasn’t hard to read his surprise. If he could use my name then I’d use his. “Grace?”

“Thank you.”

Not asking me for what, he just said, “You’re welcome,” and oddly, that really was enough right now.