“I won’t.”
Papa waited, but Greer wouldn’t run from Emery and go stay at Papa’s house. He somehow trusted she wouldn’t try to kill him. He had no idea why she was here, but he did know her story of being Taylor, running from her ex, and somehow ending up at his ranch didn’t add up. He was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain she was Emery Reeder. He was also ninety-five percent sure she wouldn’t set him on fire in the night.
The five percent doubt should worry him more.
When he said nothing more, Papa finally grunted, “I’ll have everybody set alarms and come check on you.”
“Please … nobody else.” He didn’t need the entire family knowing about Emery. Not yet. He had to let Papa dig through his intel and then somehow figure this out with Emery first. She might be the key to the information they needed about who’d hired Travis Reeder and his buddies. Not that he would use Emery for info, but maybe when she trusted him she would willingly share. It might take a while for her to learn to fully trust him.
Papa groaned. “You realize I’m old and need my sleep.”
“Sleep, please.”
“You know I won’t. Love you, son. Be smart. I’ll be praying and I’ll be checking on you.”
“Love you,” he pushed out. He loved his grandfather. It was just hard to say those words.
The phone clicked off. Greer stared at it. Then he peeled off his dirty clothes, dropped them in the hamper, and climbed in the shower. He rested his head against the granite tile. His thoughts bounced around, wondering why Emery was here, what she knew about him and her brother’s death, and the slim hope that she really was Taylor and not Emery.
He groaned in frustration. It was a really slim hope, and it was going to be a really long night.