Page 80 of Until Joy

“Always listen to Mama,” Pattie said with a watery smile. “She's never been wrong yet.”

Little Grandma's gaze shifted to me, and I felt like I was under a microscope. Her eyes lit up with curiosity that made me want to squirm.

“Now tell me a little bit more about this young man.”

I felt Joy's tension increase under my hand.

“This is Graham Wallace, Little Grandma. He's the one who's been taking care of me.”

“Is that so?” Little Grandma tilted her head, studying me intensely. “Tell me about yourself, Graham. What do you do for work?”

I straightened under her scrutiny, though I couldn't help but be amused. Joy's family was exactly what I'd expected.

“I do a lot of things around motorcycles and cars. I sell parts, renovate, and work on them.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Little Grandma's eyes narrowed. “And before that?”

“I was in the Navy for twelve years.”

“Regular Navy or something special?”

I glanced at Joy, then back at the screen. No point in lying to this woman.

“I was a SEAL, ma'am.”

Little Grandma's eyebrows shot up, and she sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile.

“Well, I'll be. A Navy SEAL.” She looked at the other women on screen. “Girls, our Joy's got herself a real protector.”

Joy's mother had stopped crying and was studying me with new interest.

“A SEAL? Really?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Aunt Lettie leaned closer to the camera.

“That explains why you look like you could bench press a truck.”

Heat crept up my neck. Joy's family had a way of making even the toughest men squirm, and I was no exception.

“There's something else we need to discuss.” I forced my voice to turn serious. Time to get to the real reason for this call. “The reason Joy's staying with me isn't just because of what happened in London.”

The women on screen went quiet, their faces tense.

“What do you mean?” Joy's mother asked.

I looked at Joy, waiting for her nod before continuing.

“Someone sent Joy flowers and texts here. We're not sure if it's connected to what happened in London, but we're not taking any chances.”

Little Grandma's eyes sharpened to laser focus.

“What kind of flowers?”

“An anonymous delivery to her workplace,” I said. “Not quite the same pattern as what started in London, but close enough to be concerned. She’s also received some concerning text messages.”

Joy's mother pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh my God. It's happening again.”