Colton First Responder (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 4) Page 7

  He soon was inside the house—and staring slightly down at Savannah, who’d been about to come out the door. She was fully dressed now, even wearing the black slip-on shoes he had seen her in previously. She was equally attractive with her clothes on, and Grayson was glad, for his own peace of mind, that she’d gotten rid of the towel.

  She looked down at the bags he held. “What do we have here?”

  “Groceries,” he said. “I left water and other supplies in the car.”

  “I’ll go get some,” she said.

  “No, show me where you want these and we’ll get the rest together.” He didn’t want her alone out there, even while he was around.

  But his protective instinct was controlling him, and he needed to use it for her as long as they were together.

  “Okay,” she said, fortunately not disputing him, although she did give him a quizzical look. And after he’d put the bags on the kitchen counter where she indicated, she said, “Is everything okay outside?”

  “As far as I know,” he said, realizing that probably didn’t give her a lot of reassurance.

  Even so, she was with him on their next couple of trips outside to bring in the rest. “Wow,” she said as they both put down the bags they’d been carrying. “Why didn’t you get some more?”

  Of course she was attempting a touch of humor. He responded in kind. “Oh, I figured this was enough to hold you through tomorrow morning. I can bring more then.”

  “That’s good,” she said. Then she grew more serious. “I’d really like to have some sense of how long I’ll need to stay here—and what I can do to figure out what happened to Zane. As fast as possible, of course.”

  “Of course,” he acknowledged. “I don’t know what to tell you, other than we need to discuss more of your sense of what happened, and its timing. Then maybe we’ll come up with some ideas.”

  “Not just maybe,” she contradicted. “We have to figure it out. Or at least I do.”

  “We,” he said again. “I intend to help.”

  He went back outside again, this time to retrieve the phone. Savannah was in the kitchen area, standing on tiptoes in her black sneakers, placing packages of paper towels, paper plates, napkins and more into a floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinet.

  “As soon as you’re done there, I have something else to show you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ll see.”

  She seemed to speed up the pace of stuffing the still-sealed packages onto the shelves, stretching to thrust some into the areas above her, then kneeling to also use the lower ledges. He enjoyed watching her lithe form as she maneuvered. Not a good idea, he told himself, but observed her anyway.

  Finishing in about two minutes, she strode over to him. “I can put the food in another cabinet and in the fridge soon. Even knowing nothing will get chilled there, it’ll make a good storage area. But first—what else do you have to show me? I’ll warn you, though. I have an idea what it is.”

  “Of course you do.” He pulled the phone from his pocket. “Let’s go to our favorite place here and I’ll turn it on, then we’ll make sure you know how to use it.”

  In moments, she sat at her usual spot watching him—and, amusingly, batting her eyelashes. She seemed to have a natural beauty that was entirely her own.

  “What’s taking you so long?” she asked.

  He pulled out his chair and sat down beside her. “Here we are.”

  The phone resembled major manufacturers’ equipment—black and rectangular, with a screen in front. He also pulled the new battery-operated charger from his pocket.

  “Okay, here’s how you turn it on. Nothing crazy or unique.” He pushed a button along the narrow side of the phone. “I assume that doesn’t look unusual, though I don’t know what kind of phone you had.”

  “Not much different from that one,” Savannah confirmed.

  She held out her hand, and he placed the phone in her palm as the screen came to life. The wallpaper on that screen showed a blue sky with white cumulus clouds. When he swiped at the screen, a bunch of apps suddenly appeared. One was the play store from which more apps could be downloaded. Another was a camera. Then there were the standard ones for making calls on the phone, getting to the internet, and sending and receiving text messages. And though Grayson didn’t know what internet connection there was at the cabin, there must have been something because everything appeared to work.

  “Looks nice and familiar,” she said again. “Can I get its phone number from you?”

  “Of course.” He pulled his own phone from his pocket and checked his list of contacts. He had added Savannah’s new number at the tech store where he’d bought it.

  Of course he didn’t use her name in his contacts list. Not that he anticipated anyone would be checking his phone for it, but no sense taking any chances.

  No, she was listed there under the name of a girl he’d been buddies with in college, Charlene Farmer. Not a girlfriend, but a girl who was a friend. That number had an area code for Arizona, but there wasn’t anything else that should reveal its owner’s location any more than her name.

  After he explained all that to Savannah, she said, “Please give me a call. That way, I can save your number. I assume it’s okay to use your real name as my contact.”

  “Absolutely. But I assume I don’t have to tell you to be careful and not make calls to anyone you know without thinking it through first. They may not recognize your number or your name on the phone, but—”

  “I understand. No way will I call anyone I don’t trust. You can be sure I’ll be cautious.”

  “Good,” Grayson said, then he did as she had requested and called her from his phone.

  She answered it. “This is Charlene. And who am I talking to?”

  “Some weird guy who wants to know exactly where you are so I can come and hassle you.”

  “Okay, weird guy. I’ve got your number.” And Savannah pressed the button to end the call.

  “I think I’m in trouble.” Grayson made a mock-nervous face and aimed a grin toward Savannah.

  But what was next? He could leave now, but the kind of help he had provided that day wasn’t all she needed.

  To provide an excuse to stay longer, he said, “I think we deserve a late lunch now, don’t you?”

  “I certainly do,” she said, rising. “And since you brought all the food and other stuff we need, I’ll make us a salad and sandwiches. That okay with you?”

  “Definitely,” he replied.

  * * *

  It was an excuse, of course. Savannah was perfectly happy using the things Grayson had brought to prepare as nice a lunch as possible for them.

  But mostly she didn’t want him just to drop things off, show her how to use that critical phone—and then leave her here, alone and unsure what to do next.

  Besides...well, she enjoyed having him around.

  Especially after that kiss.

  Of course, even if he stayed for a while, that moment when he left would come. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, stay here much longer. Yet she hated the idea of hanging out here alone again. Although, now that she had a phone she could use, it wouldn’t hurt to try to do some research on Zane and what was being said about him on the internet. Would she find any answers? Well, she definitely wouldn’t if she didn’t try.

  Without another word to Grayson, she went to the kitchen. She used the cleaning materials he had brought to scrub the sink, then washed some of the utensils she had found in the kitchen drawers.

  She cut the head of lettuce Grayson had brought, along with a tomato, placing them into a clean bowl. Then she made sandwiches from the cold cuts and kept everything on paper plates.

  While she was doing all this, she glanced at him now and then. Which wasn’t a chore. Grayson’s gleaming blue eyes seemed to sparkle when he looked at her, and
particularly when he teased her and helped to keep her mood from becoming completely depressed despite her questionable freedom.

  Plus, he was a first responder. Could he use his skills and help her figure out what really happened to Zane?

  Plus, Savannah couldn’t help thinking about before, when he had first arrived that day.

  When she’d had no clothes on, only a towel around her, and had impulsively hugged, and kissed, him.

  She had an urge to do it again now. In thanks for what he had brought.

  In thanks for appearing to believe in her. For helping her. For bringing her food, and hanging out to share a meal with her. Unlike Zane. Oh, they sometimes shared meals, but that had become a lot less frequent before they separated.

  During part of the time she prepared their lunch, Grayson seemed to be texting someone, maybe more than one. His staff?

  He eventually stood and crossed to the far side of the room, where he conducted some phone conversations, too. Though he was talking to whoever was on the other end, he kept his voice low so she couldn’t hear more than a few words of what he said.

  At least his staying here didn’t seem to prevent him from communicating with people he needed to.

  And her? Who would she dare to communicate with using her new phone?

  She might need to ponder that for a while.

  For now, though...

  She saw Grayson pull his phone away from his ear and cross the small cabin. He wasn’t smiling.

  Was something wrong?

  But as he reached her, he said, “Okay, I’m free for a while. Talked to everyone I needed to. So when do we eat?”

  Savannah waved toward the food she had clustered, still on the counter near the sink. “Right now,” she said. “Take a plate and sit down.”

  She was so glad he was staying. She really enjoyed his company.

  Not to mention the idea that he was the kind of person who just might try to help her prove her innocence.

  Chapter 7

  Grayson sat down to a pretty tasty lunch on a thick paper plate. Of course, it consisted of the stuff he’d bought, nothing even hinting at gourmet. Even so, Savannah had put it together in a way that looked appealing.

  And that was what he told her. “This all looks really good,” he said as he placed a second half sandwich onto his plate.

  “It looks like what you brought here,” she said dismissively, although he caught the smile on her face as she scooped up some salad.

  “Ah, but your serving skills added a lot.”

  She laughed as she aimed her green eyes at him in an expression that seemed both amused and appreciative. “Taste it first,” she said.

  He finished filling his plate and went to sit down at the table. He savored the food, such as it was, partly to keep her amused—and because he wanted to hang out here a while longer. He intended to discuss her situation and what he could do to help her not only survive, but end what was happening to her—and how he could help her uncover the truth about Zane.

  She was most likely being hunted now by the cops. In their phone call yesterday, Chad had indicated that was in fact the case. Chad had heard that the cops, including the few who had K-9 partners, were mostly occupied with checking out damage, though a warning had been issued for people to be careful not only of potential looters, but also of a murderer who might be loose among them.

  He also assumed from what Chad said that there hadn’t been time to look for her...yet.

  Now he took a significant bite of sandwich, watching Savannah watch him as he did so. It actually tasted pretty good, probably because he was hungry.

  “So what’s your favorite food when you aren’t in the middle of nowhere helping an innocent prison escapee?” Savannah asked him. Although the tone of her sweetly feminine voice was light, the expression on her pretty face remained wry.

  “Oh, I like sandwiches, though I’m fondest of really good, thick burgers. Roast beef sandwiches, too. Steaks and—”

  “I get it,” Savannah said, interrupting him with a laugh. “Beef and you are buddies.”

  “You don’t like my faves?” He tried to sound as though his feelings were hurt, and he squeezed his mouth into a pout. He liked the idea of keeping this conversation light. For now. But soon they’d have to start discussing what was really on their minds.

  “In moderation,” she responded. “Along with good, healthy food, like salads and other veggies. Fish and chicken, too.”

  “You sound like a health nut,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Guess what, I prefer healthy.”

  “Well, I actually like sides along with my meats, and that can include the salads and veggies you mentioned. Good fruit, too.”

  “Then maybe your family did bring you up right,” Savannah said. “Even though from what I’ve heard you can afford to eat anything, anywhere, that you want.” Her turn to put down the plastic salad fork and take a bite of sandwich.

  “That’s what I gather about you and your family, too,” Grayson said, and as she stopped chewing and looked down, he knew he’d made a mistake even mentioning them. Even though she had brought up his.

  He had understood, meeting her at elite parties before, that her family had money, too. She was essentially a socialite, he believed, although he knew she helped to raise money for organizations that helped people who were less fortunate.

  But his bringing up her family now wouldn’t call into mind charitable events, or even just her parents and siblings, difficult or not, but also a particularly nasty, wealthy ex who was now apparently framing her for murder.

  Family. Grayson, at age thirty-six, was the youngest of three from Payne’s first marriage to Tessa. He had an older brother, Ace—the one to whom it now appeared he might not be biologically related—and an older sister, Ainsley, plus adopted brother Rafe.

  Ace was still a Colton, genetically or not.

  Then there were three more siblings from his dad’s third marriage, to his stepmother, Genevieve: twins Marlowe and Callum, and Asher. In between his late mother, Tessa, and Genevieve, Payne was married to the sinister Selina Barnes Colton. Although they had been divorced for years, Selina still remained in a prominent position at Colton Oil, leading the siblings to wonder what she held over their father.

  Grayson’s second phone call earlier had been with Callum.

  Callum had confirmed to Grayson that Payne remained in a coma. They still didn’t know who’d shot him. And couldn’t Grayson get a little more involved with helping to figure that out, or working with the authorities more, since he knew them better and interacted with them as a first responder?

  That wasn’t the first time Callum had suggested it. Or had prodded Grayson to get more involved emotionally, too—though he didn’t phrase it that way. Callum had recently uncovered the nurse who might have swapped her own newborn son with a sickly Colton baby forty years ago. That woman, Luella Smith, might be Ace’s biological mother. Callum had also fallen in love with a charming single mom, Hazel Hart, and adored her daughter, Evie.

  But although Grayson was okay with the fact he was a Colton, he wasn’t really close to the family and didn’t intend to change that even now, partly for fear they would try to twist his arm to get involved with Colton Oil.

  Although, close or not, he was really concerned about his father and how he was doing—and whether he would survive.

  With his mind off on that tangent, Grayson had been looking more at his nearly empty paper plate than at Savannah, even though he had last mentioned her and her family.

  While his family and their father’s situation might be important, they weren’t why he was here.

  Or involved with what he wanted to do here.

  He tore his gaze from the boring plate he’d not really noticed as his thoughts flew around. He looked up at Savannah.

  She, too, ap
peared to be studying her empty plate. Her face was pale, her expression pensive but leaning toward sorrowful. Maybe even distraught.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She looked up at him. “Of course. It’s just that you mentioned my family. They’re a good group, my mother and brother. And yes, we have some money. But my father’s gone now.”

  The thought clearly, and understandably, made her sad. It was time to put this lunch behind them and do something else. Something that hopefully would be productive—in improving Savannah’s mood, if nothing else.

  Better yet, they could discuss a bit of the past and hurl it into what they could do in the near future to change things drastically for the better for his lunch companion.

  “Hey, Savannah,” he said. “You ready to take a walk outside? We need to take a bit of a hike to work off some of the calories from this enormous, filling lunch.”

  * * *

  Her family.

  Ignoring the fact that it recently had included—been usurped by—that jerk Zane, Savannah briefly let her mind wander further as she stood up and cleared the table, tossing their plates into the plastic bag she was now using for trash. She also picked up the bottle of water she had been drinking from and placed it beside, though not in, the refrigerator. Why bother?

  She wondered what her mother and younger brother, Randy, were thinking now. Her dad was gone, and of course she was sad about that—but he’d been a major reason she had wound up marrying Zane.

  Oh, she’d had an elite upbringing, despite there being no private schools good enough around Mustang Valley for the Murphy children. Her parents, Randolph Senior and Eleanor, had imported live-in tutors to work with them while they also attended those public institutions, like the local high school, part-time, to ensure they learned everything privileged children of their ages should learn. And their mansion at the fringes of town had plenty of room for live-in help. That had been largely due to her father’s income as chief executive officer of a highly profitable manufacturing company, as well as his inheritance.