There was a sudden rush and a popping noise in his ears as all the air in Grady’s lungs was expelled. He hadn’t been expecting the question. He’d stupidly opened the door to it, but considering it hadn’t come up earlier and he’d been able to avoid personal questions all night, he’d been lulled into a false sense of security. He could feel the heat of Suzanne’s gaze flashing across his face like a lighthouse beacon.

“No, they don’t,” he said, trying not to sound tight-lipped and forbidding because it had been a friendly inquiry from his girlfriend’s mother. Grady was so used to everyone in Credence knowing his backstory, knowing that he didn’t talk about his backstory, he forgot that not everybody in the world knew.

It just felt like it sometimes.

But these were typical getting-to-know-you questions, and telling Simone St. Michelle to mind her own damn business would not go down very well. Three sets of eyes were looking at him expectantly for more, and he knew it would be both rude and strange not to elaborate. Still, he steeled himself for the incoming platitudes.

“Grady’s from Seattle,” Suzanne said, jumping in.

She sent him a small smile, and even in that stupid elf sweater with her cheeks flushed from the fire or maybe the eggnog, he was glad she was standing right there. He may be here talking about stuff he didn’t want to talk about—he never talked about—because of her and her over-the-top lie, but she’d obviously sensed his hesitancy and was prepared to run interference.

“That’s right,” he said. And he could have changed the subject and left it at that. Have them think that his parents were still alive and kicking back home. But there were bound to be follow-up questions at some point like, Will your family be joining us for Christmas? So it was better to just get it out there now when it fitted naturally into the conversation.

And then change the subject.

“I’m from Seattle. But my parents were killed in a car accident when I was seventeen. That’s when I came to Credence. To the ranch. To live with my aunt and uncle.”

A soft gasp escaped Suzanne’s mouth, and he looked at her as her blue eyes softened, went glassy, and her brow furrowed in consternation.

Christ, she’d be lousy at poker.

Simone looked from Suzanne to Grady and back to Suzanne again, frowning. “You didn’t know?”

“She does,” Grady covered. “She just knows I don’t like to talk about it very much.”