The Hero I Need

I’m trying hard not to laugh.

This isn’t a laughing matter.

The girls could get hurt if they somehow snuck in the barn and surprised Bruce. But it’s how he’s worried about the slim possibility of being one-upped by his precocious ten-year-old daughters that makes it kinda funny.

People never give kids the credit they deserve until there’s trouble.

Grady just might be saving himself some major heartache.

As our gazes remain locked, I sense that wildfire tingling under my skin.

His eyes are these glowing fires, brown eyes lit like flaming coals. I can’t ignore the intensity, or the fact that his touch feels like a furnace.

If I hold on too long, if I get closer, he’ll burn me right now.

“You’ve raised them well,” I say, desperate to shift the subject.

“If you say so.” Eventually he grins. “I’ve also taught them not to lie.”

Relieved, I let my laugh out.

“I’m sure you have, and I agree wholeheartedly that they’ll come skulking around the barn sooner or later. I know I would at their age if my dad started installing locks that weren’t there last week.”

“Same,” he admits, finally peeling away from me.

“When do we tell them? And how?” I ask, walking with him through the man cave.

“You tell me. When’s Bruce going to be up for some company with his hurt paw?”

Oof.

I act like I’m considering my options, tapping my chin with one finger. Honestly, I’m buying time because I hardly have a clue.

He’s watching me as we walk, and I have to admit, I haven’t felt so nervous in a long time. I haven’t spent a lot of time dating, not with a full load of school, internships, and fieldwork, but if I had the time, if I wasn’t just complicating his life...yeah.

He’d be a breathtaking man to enjoy alone.

Over a nice glass of wine or completely naked.

“Well?” he asks, nudging me along.

Half afraid he’s been reading my mind, I say, “How about after supper? As long as we keep a safe distance, I think his paw’s on the mend. New people won’t freak him out. There were visitors all the time at the sanctuary.”

“Our dinner or his?” Grady asks with a smirk.

“He’s already had his, so ours.”

“Do you know how to cook?”

“A little bit, why?”

“Just thinking that goes along with being a nanny.” He shrugs. “Aunt Faye cooks for us.”

“I thought we were coming clean?”

“We are, darlin’, but look...I still need a nanny. I’ve got a bar to run, kids to raise, and the big fat mess with finding a tiger a home.”

I’m not offended, and it’s given me an opening.

I bite back a smile. “You sure about that? Part of me thinks it’s just because you don’t want Hailey Wood’s mother taking the nanny job.”

“Hell no!” he snaps.

“Why?”

“Because I’m never getting married again, and I don’t fancy beating her off me with a stick,” he growls, a defiant scowl on his face.

I burst out laughing. Is it really that bad?

When I look at him again, I have my answer: yes.

Not that I can blame Miss Wood. Grady has strongman good looks and a fierce attitude that invites lust to make logic into roadkill.

“Her mom’s that desperate?”

“Yeah. Buckshot to the face would be less subtle than Linda Wood trying to stake her claim on yours truly.” He thumbs his chest and gives me a frustrated grin.

I laugh again.

We’re almost to the stairs, so I slow my pace.

“Poor baby. Should I feel bad for you?”

He stops and looks at me for several heated seconds.

“Will it make you be a nanny for my girls?”

My lips turn up again.

“Probably.”

“Then, yeah, woman. Feel sorry as hell for me. I’ll be your lion with a splinter in its paw.”

Holy Toledo.

The urge to kiss him flares right down to my toes.

It must be those wild eyes like melted chocolate rolling down a sundae, or the way he towers over me, or the patchwork of military ink and intricate tattoos running down his arms.

Or maybe I’m just on the verge of being dangerously smitten.

The verge, I said.

Don’t take that as a confession that I already am.

Because I know what happens if we start crossing lines that should be carved in stone.

If I let myself get closer to this lunk, if I start treating him like he’s more than just a kind small-town stranger who came to my rescue...

It won’t end well.

It’ll probably end with my smitten heart blown to smithereens and all seven winds.

“I...I think I can do that,” I tell him, desperate to collect myself again.

His booming laughter snaps me out of my funk.

“No second chances, Willow. You already agreed.”

Great.

At least I’m laughing too, even while I say, “I don’t remember signing any contract.”

“Verbal agreement.” He starts up the steps. “It was implied.”

“Implied?” I bound up two steps to be even with him.

“What’s so funny, you guys?” Sawyer asks, perched near the doorway above us.