The Hero I Need

I bark out a laugh. Andrew the Weather Man has become an idol for women of all ages around these parts.

The kid’s in his early twenties with a slick tongue. He’s good-looking enough to catch a lot of eyes and spikes his hair with gel. Sawyer and Avery have pointed that out more than once.

No complaints here. Let him fight his admirers off with a stick. Fewer ladies who’ll come gunning for me.

“Already hot as blazes out there,” I say with a groan.

“Oh, I know! I rode my bike in.” She blows me a kiss while grabbing her cart and scurrying off.

I have to chuckle, even if I’m a little worried about heat stroke at her age.

Her tandem bike’s built for two. She’d bought it when Tory, her granddaughter and now Faulk’s wife, first came to stay with her last year so the girl could work her injured knee.

Ever since Faulk and Tory shacked up, Granny keeps riding that big-ass bike all over town whenever weather permits. With her flowered, pointy bike helmet, she’s a pint-sized riot, always pedaling fast enough to keep up with traffic.

Back to meat shopping and some peace—hopefully—I add some ribs and hamburgers to the pile of steaks. If we’re in for this damn heatwave continuing till kingdom come, I’m gonna grill my way through it after sunset.

Then I check out and head home.

On the way, I will myself a thousand different ways to ignore Willow.

I don’t want a repeat of this morning.

Yeah.

Good fucking luck.

The instant I’m home, my eyes whip to her like she’s magnetic, and that’s when I know.

I know how hard I’m about to get whacked by ignoring that manic voice in the back of my head, jumping up and down and screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

About as hard as I already got smacked by Granny’s words, her plea for me to lay claim to a good woman.

Every damn part of me tingles like a dowsing rod over a geyser.

My body knows it better than my mind: I’ve found one.

As I pull into my long driveway, I see what’s keeping Willow busy today besides staying pretty.

The girls are hauling shovels, and she’s pushing a wheelbarrow around the side of the house.

I park my truck and climb out.

“What are you three up to, now?” I yell, wondering if this is their latest project. They’ve cleaned and reorganized every closet in the house over the past few days.

The girls have always been good helpers and handle their chores well, but Willow’s influence on them is next level. I’m almost expecting them to start busting out hard hats and toolboxes for home remodeling.

“Planting flowers, Daddy!” Avery tells me, beaming with delight.

A bolt of guilt knifes my stomach.

She loves flowers more than oxygen.

I think Avery was born to spend her summers hunting down perfect specimens, picking wild colors fresh off the stem, and then drawing them in her notebooks. My mother used to have flower beds surrounding the house, but over years of half-assed effort and neglect from yours truly, they became overgrown. I let wild grass take over, finding it far easier to just mow everything rather than weed and tend to flowers Avery would love.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Willow says, separating herself from the girls. “Avery was showing me some of her flower drawings and told me they were growing wild along the fence near the short track.”

She’s wearing a pair of my work gloves and reaches up to brush a splash of chestnut hair out of her eyes, leaving a thin streak of dirt on her cheek.

Fuck, I’m ended.

The Army never taught me how to resist being flayed open by one look from a woman too gorgeous for life.

“Don’t mind what?” I ask absentmindedly.

“The flowers, I mean. If we transplant a few closer to the house, they’ll probably grow beautifully. We found a few old stepping stones that were overgrown, too. Looks like they used to separate the yard from the flower beds near the foundation. So far, we’ve found wild roses, irises, and tiger lilies.” She pauses and snickers. “The girls thought the last ones were extra fitting.”

“I’m sure they did,” I say with a growing smile.

“Don’t worry. We only cleared out a small patch near the side of the house so far, so if you don’t like it—”

“I don’t mind, it just sounds like a lot of work in this heat.”

Her blue eyes ignite, pulling me apart by the second. Her hands go to her ample hips, causing a deadly sudden weight in my pants.

“So you’re saying you’re willing to help out?”

Damn. Knowing I’m being duped, I shake my head.

It’s got nothing to do with the ferocious summer heat rays, either, and everything to do with her playfulness.

That shit awakens a part of my anatomy I’ve kept leashed for far too long.

Undaunted, Willow steps closer and touches my bicep with her gloved hand.