Keeping our problems a secret had become second nature. No one at school knew. The neighbors weren’t asking, and I hadn’t volunteered the information to anyone. We’re broke and hungry wasn’t something that I liked bringing up in casual conversation. “If you’re really a supernatural being, why can’t you read minds?”
“We can, but we don’t. It raises privacy issues.”
“Too bad you can’t Google information like humans.”
His lips thinned. “That is an option, actually. My boss failed to suggest it.”
Grant was mad at his boss, but he was taking it out on me. It was more than I could bear. I popped out of my chair and drew so close to him our noses were mere inches apart. “Now you know my reality. The house is falling apart around us. We eat salad and spaghetti ’til we’re sick of it. My brother is outgrowing all his clothes. And my mother is a total case of arrested development. It would be really nice if you would lose the attitude and help me.”
“Got it.”
“Good.” I took a step back, surprised and kind of pleased by my own boldness. “My family will be home soon. I’d like you to change clothes before they get here.”
“Do you anticipate introducing us?”
Where had this guy learned to speak? At Buckingham Palace? “No, but it’s a possibility and you look like an idiot in those sweats.”
“They aren’t sweats. My clothing is a … uniform of sorts.”
“You’d look better in jeans.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Can’t you snap your fingers?”
“For my wishes. Not yours.” His smile appeared out of nowhere. “I have no wish to change.”
A smile from Grant? He should do that more often. It was breathtaking.
Okay, time to refocus. “If I gave you some regular clothes, would you wear them?”
His face softened thoughtfully. “I would.”
I led him down the hall to my mother’s room, and then reached under her bed for a suitcase full of men’s clothing. All likely to be about the right size.
“Permit me.” He dumped the contents of the suitcase onto the bed. Items fell out into neatly sorted piles. Loose buttons had tightened, frayed hems had mended, holes had been patched. “Your stepfather’s things?”
“They are.” I laid a hand on the stack of shirts and drank in the memory of spicy cologne. “If my mother notices you wearing Josh’s clothes, she’ll fall apart,” I said around the lump in my throat.
“I’ll disguise them, Chief.” Grant pulled out jeans, shirts, and sneakers.
“Here’s a tie.”
“I don’t do ties.” He gathered the clothes into his arms. “I have what I need to keep from embarrassing you.”
I hadn’t meant to insult him. “Sorry.”
“No need to be. I’m here to serve.” He bowed his head and faded away.
I perched on the edge of the bed, staring into the empty space where seconds ago he had been, and wondered how I was going to survive a month of Grant.
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