The Hero I Need

He backs out of the doorway and opens a cupboard.

“How long have you been up?”

“About an hour and a half, probably. I’m not the kind to lie around. Once I’m up, I’m ready to rock and roll,” I say, looking at the ground. “And honestly, when I’m nervous, I like to clean. It takes my mind off the things I’d rather not think about.”

No easy confession, and I don’t tell him I think I could clean ten more of his houses right about now.

I walk out of the pantry then, closing the frosted glass door before looking at the clock on the microwave again. Grady looks up, beaming a warm smile at me.

He’d taken two cups out of the cupboard and finishes filling them both. Handing one off to me, he asks, “You did all this in an hour and a half?”

“I mean, there wasn’t that much. Just a little dusting and—”

“Dusting? You dusted, too? Shit. Because I see you did dishes, folded clothes, swept, mopped, organized the pantry, and made coffee. You must be a morning girl on steroids.” He sits down at the table near the sliding glass door and does a double-take that makes me grin.

“It was nothing. Really.”

“Jesus. You even got the fingerprints off the door, too,” he says slowly, his eyes flicking over the glass in awe.

“Guilty,” I whisper, nodding as my cheeks flare with heat.

I swallow a long sip of coffee, amazed by how observant he is, before saying, “The dishwasher’s still running. There’s some work I can’t take credit for, if it makes you happy.”

“Happy?” Grady tosses his head back, releasing a laugh that shows off his straight white teeth. “I owe you an hourly wage, woman. My crew at the Bobcat doesn’t work half as fast as you.”

“Keep it. I think I owe you, remember? Bruce is sleeping like a kitten, by the way,” I say, slurping more coffee.

“Had time to check on your cat, huh?”

“That’s the first thing I did. Well, after I showered and made my bed.”

He chuckles again, a deep, resonate, weirdly pleasant sound.

“My girls could take lessons from you.” A frown forms as he stares at me. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-four.”

“And you’re a zoologist? Licensed and educated?” He nods at a chair across from him, motioning me with his big hand to take a seat.

I cross the room and do it.

“Yep. I have my master’s degree. I was going to keep going and snag my PhD, but my father suggested I should spend a few years in the field. Practical research working full time with animals before I commit myself to four more years of college.”

“You already did four years?”

“Six. My first four were for the bachelor’s, and the next two the master’s. I doubled up on courses that would count toward my PhD, so it’ll only be four more years instead of five to finish it.”

If I ever get the chance with an arrest record, I think glumly.

Grady lets out a loud whistle.

“That’s commitment. Major respect,” he tells me.

I shrug. To me, it was just life. I did what I had to.

He traces a thick, calloused finger around the top of his coffee mug, intermittently staring at me.

God. His gaze alone feels like an interrogation—or else I’m just primed to go to pieces around single men carved out of pure boulder.

“So, with that education, how the hell did you wind up in North Dakota?” he asks gently.

I hold in a sigh and set my coffee cup on the table, wondering where to start.

“I’ve called Weston, by the way. He’s checking on an alternator now,” Grady says.

Oof. Does he think he needs to guilt me into telling him?

“Thanks,” I say, then add, “I appreciate it. And I wasn’t trying to avoid telling you the dirty details. I was just trying to figure out where to start.”

“How about at the beginning?”

His grin is so cocky, I have to retaliate.

“Well, there are a lot of stories. Some start with 'Let there be light.' Others think there was a great Big Bang at the beginning of time and—”

“Very cute, smart-ass,” he blurts out, chuckling so much his chest rumbles. “I’ve heard those beginnings.”

“Have you?” I ask, secretly enjoying the good-natured way he flings my humor back at me. Some people don’t get it. Heck, sometimes I don’t get it either.

Also, he called me cute.

Sort of.

“Yes. And I deserved that one,” he tells me, shaking his head.

I touch my finger to the edge of my lips and hold it up in the air.

He bows his head, signaling his acceptance of the score.

Sassy Chick in Peril: 1.

Big Daddy Hotness: 0.

“Start with Bruce,” he says, his tone turning serious. “What made you steal him?”

“Love,” I answer instantly. “Seriously. It was love at first sight. He was my baby since the day I started at the refuge. I took extra time to treat him well, always making sure he got everything he needed. I don’t care what he is. I think he appreciates it, too.”