I help her into it and place a hand on her back to steer her to the door.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells the nurse.
“No worries, I’m sure he’ll sleep comfortably all night,” Owens says. “If not, I’ll be here. That’s what you’re paying me for.”
Grace nods and walks out the door.
“Seriously, I’m not hungry, Ridge,” she says the second I shut the door behind us.
“You will be. We’re not waiting up for Tobin. I make a mean sandwich. Grilled onions, cheese, and bacon that’ll knock you on your ass. Ass, baby.”
“Um, I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day.” She spits out what sounds like a half laugh. “Is there anything the infamous Ridge Barnet can’t do?”
“No,” I say, because I want her to believe it. “There’s a whole team of quacks still trying to discover my kryptonite.”
I want her to believe that I’m going to get her out of this mess.
So fucking far out of it that they’ll never have to deal with a vicious little troll like Grendal again. I texted his info to Faulk a little while ago, and I’m waiting to hear back.
Once we’re in the house, she leaves the room to use the bathroom.
I wash my hands and dig the ingredients out of the fridge to make us a couple of my death-by-decadence sandwiches. I also pull some hot cocoa out of the cupboard, this imported stuff Tobin buys.
Can’t say I have much of a sweet tooth, but it’s done the trick in the past when he serves guests who do.
I go easy on the chocolate. Caffeine will only keep her awake, and she needs sleep after what we’ve been through.
“I said I’m not hungry,” she pouts, standing at the entryway to the kitchen.
“Too bad, you’re eating, woman, so get over here,” I tell her, sliding a plate across the breakfast bar along with a glass of water. “Have a seat.”
She takes a stool at the counter and plops her chin in one hand. A heavy sigh sizzles out of her as she looks at the sandwich and takes a bite.
“It’s tasty, I’ll give you that. Happy now?” she whispers, still chewing, taking another good-sized chomp.
“Now I am. Clean your plate before the cocoa or we’re gonna have issues, darlin’.”
“I don’t know what to do, Ridge. You’re in real danger. So is Tobin, and Jackie, and…everyone who gets mixed up in this. We’re tainted.”
“Jackie?” My hand pauses as I finish assembling my own dinner.
“Miss Owens, the nurse?” She huffs out a breath. “The lady you must be paying a fortune for, instead of me. I don’t know how you can—”
“Grace. Money’s the least of my concerns. Look around,” I tell her, spreading the mayo thick before setting the knife down, loading onions over the bacon, and pressing my bread together. “I learned a long damn time ago life isn’t always about chasing more coin.”
“Says someone who’s never had to do without it. Money’s why we’re in this mess with Clay.” She slaps a hand over her mouth, suddenly wide-eyed. “Um, sorry. That was rude of me. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s understandable,” I say. “I was set real pretty from the day I was born, even without Mom’s career adding to the family coffers. My grandfather co-founded an airline, one with the first big commercial routes to Hawaii and the rest of the Pacific. Dad inherited his seat on the board, and then it was merged into a major carrier. Never had to do without it, but I have been without it.”
She looks at me like she can’t imagine how.
“The Army,” I explain. “My bank account was still full, but in Afghanistan, that didn’t do me a lick of good. I couldn’t spend a dime. We had to stretch everything with whatever the good old U S of A supplied us.”
Her eyes flash in the mellow light, something like respect shining brightly.
“How long did you serve?” she asks softly.
“Just a couple tours.” A heaviness settles in my chest. “My mother didn’t want a son in the military, always risking his neck overseas. She wanted her boy on the silver screen, following in her footsteps.”
I don’t realize how bitter I sound until I see the way she’s looking at me.
Fuck.
Holding in the hot air scorching my lungs, I realize just how true that statement is and how it irritated me, even back then.
I’d left Hollywood and enlisted because I’d hated that life already, but because of Mom, I’d returned. Let her have her way because she was my mother.
I loved her, and I didn’t understand then why the life had gone out of her, why she sounded so sad, so defeated, every time we’d talk about my future.
If I’d only known how desperate she was to stay in the limelight, while there was still time…
“I’m rambling,” I say, severing that train of thought. “Back to more important shit than my Army days.”