AN: Hello dearests!

Yay! We're in the double digit chapters! How exciting!

Happy reading, friends!

Disclaimer: Ally Carter owns Zach, Cammie, and the Gallagher Girl universe.

Zach's POV

I shoved the blade of the shovel into the ground perhaps a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. A single aggressive stomp of my boot pushed it as far as it would go into the soft earth, and a quick swing launched the soil into the nearby wheelbarrow.

When Mrs. Morgan had told me she needed me for gardening, I'd assumed she meant weeding, maybe a pointed lesson or two on what plants not to pick so early in the season. Instead, she had me planting apple trees while she oversaw the work from a lawn chair in the shade.

At least she had been at first. Once she was satisfied that I was digging the holes deep enough and wide enough and far enough apart, and that I was spreading the roots of the saplings to her liking, she'd gone back to the house. That had been fifteen minutes ago.

I didn't begrudge her for leaving, though. I was relieved, actually. It gave me a chance to take out some of my frustration on the accommodating ground and gardening tools. I wasn't mad that I was out here. Dirt and sweat didn't bother me, and I certainly didn't want Mrs. Morgan, or even Mr. Morgan, to be doing this kind of work.

No, I was mad because I was here, intentionally assigned some place out of the way, and Cammie was out there doing who knows what with Ryden.I didn't trust him. What with his flirting and "innocent" touches and nicknames.

Plus, there were his jabs at me. He took every chance he could to make me look and feel like an idiot. I thought back to what happened the day before and strangled the shaft of the shovel as I speared the ground angrily again.

"What did Nebraskan land ever do to you?" said an amused voice behind me. I turned to find Mrs. Morgan walking toward me. She was smiling knowingly and carrying two glasses of lemonade.

I wiped dirt and sweat from my brow with the back of my dirty and sweaty hand. "Hit me really hard yesterday. I was just returning the favor."

She chuckled. "Fair enough. Though I don't think we can blame the ground entirely for that mishap. Here."

She handed me one of the glasses. I thanked her and downed half of it. It was cold and refreshing, the perfect mix of sour and sweet, and clearly homemade. I slowed down and took smaller sips from the rest. It dawned on me that I'd never had homemade lemonade before, so I wanted to savor it. Catherine hadn't exactly been the make-lemonade-out-of-lemons type. She'd been more of the when-life-gives-you-lemons-squeeze-the-juice-in-your-enemy's-eye type.

"It's delicious," I said, and she smiled proudly before returning to the lawn chair. Though the air was hot and humid, the sky was quickly becoming overcast in preparation for the night's storm. No longer in need of shade, Mrs. Morgan pulled her chair from beneath the maple tree and closer to me.

"So," she said once she'd gotten comfortable and had taken a drink from her own glass. "What are your intentions with my granddaughter?"

Despite having years of intense physical and psychological training on how to remain calm and how to regulate my body when being interrogated—not to mention actually having completely good intentions when it came to her granddaughter—Mrs. Morgan's words still made my heart beat faster and sent a cold sweat across my hairline.

"Honorable ones?" I'd meant it to be a statement, but it sounded more like a question.

Mrs. Morgan waved my feeble answer away. "Don't give me that. I can see Cammie as clearly as you can. I know there are some dishonorable ones tucked inside you too."

I flushed and was about to apologize for something I hadn't even admitted to when she said, "Zachary, I have more past behind me than future ahead of me, but the opposite is true for my baby. I need to make sure she's taken care of, that she's happy. Intentions imply a future. And a future implies a certain amount of care. So, what I want to know is what Cammie means to you?"

I took a sip of lemonade to revive my suddenly parched throat and marveled a bit at how an old woman was able to invoke a nervous reaction in me when some of the hardest and most well-trained operatives of the CIA couldn't. It was clear that Mrs. Morgan wasn't messing around, but what she didn't realize yet was that when it came to Cammie, neither was I. So, I took my time and genuinely considered my answer as I pictured Cammie in my mind's eye. Her smile. Her goodness. Her touch. Her fierceness. Her laugh. Her resilience. Her unique ability to heal me.

"She is the most important thing in my life," I said, and every other truth I'd ever told seemed like lies in comparison.

Mrs. Morgan leaned back in her chair, satisfied. "I can tell. I can tell by the way you look at her. Virgil and I look at her the same way." She narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Though without those dishonorable intentions in the mix."

I coughed. "Mrs. Morgan–"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, young man," she said with a laugh. "Virgil and I were your age once. Through everything, though, he was a good man. Still is a good man. I expect the same from you."

"You can count on that, Mrs. Morgan."

I finished off my lemonade, and she held out her hand to take the glass. "Good," she said when I gave it to her. "Because this farmer's wife has a 20-gauge shotgun, perfect aim, and zero inhibitions where her granddaughter is concerned."

There was no doubt in my mind that she would try to follow through on the implied threat if I ever messed up. I didn't have the heart or the clearance to tell her that if I ever hurt Cammie, some of the best agents in the world would have killed me several times over before she even had a chance to grab her gun.

So, I just smiled and said, "Yes, ma'am."

AN: Thanks lots for reading this here chapter! If you liked it, leave an encouraging comment. If you hated it, tell me what I can do better in a helpful critique. If you felt indifferent, forget leaving a review and go get yourself a cookie or something. Why? Because you can. No need to justify eating a cookie:)

I know there wasn't any direct Zammie in this most recent installment, but even so, this is one of my favorite chapters in the story. I mean, how cute are Zach and Grandma Morgan?! I just think they would have the best relationship in the GG canon, particularly since Zach (as far as we know) doesn't know his grandparents on either side. That's why this scene is so special. It's like Grandma Morgan is officially accepting Zach into the family as her grandson. Don't worry. Grandpa Morgan will get there too...eventually.

Have a great week, y'all!

Much love, Rachel