The Hero I Need

Oh, God.

I almost faint, a thousand dark thoughts whipping through my head like a spinning slideshow. The people who come at night are the dirty ones—or else the people who let the monsters make this their playground, who turn a blind eye to innocent animals vanishing in the darkness.

“Yeah, okay!” I whisper, already backing away as he stares after me.

“Keep up the diligent work, and I’m sure we’ll see you among the stars.”

I’m down the hall when I break into a run and hot tears come stinging down my cheeks, my thoughts in a crashing panic.

Like hell, you demon turd.

I’m not just going to stand by hating you.

I’m going to run, first chance I get, and you’ll have to murder me before I ever let you lay a claw on that beautiful tiger baby.

“Bruce!” I jerk up in a panic, calling his name, slick with sweat despite the almost frigid air-conditioning overcompensating for the muggy heat.

Just a nightmare.

He’s safe.

Thank God, and thank him again for sending me Grady, too.

I sink back into the couch, a pillow under my head and a thin blanket covering me.

The full light filling the room makes me blink several times, trying to decipher if that’s what woke me, or if it was something else.

I’m guessing it’s noon, if not later, by the brightness.

A deep breath brings in the smell of rich coffee. I sit up, stretch, and yawn. The mantle clock above the fireplace shows it’s after eleven in morning. Earlier than I thought.

An odd noise comes from outside, and I throw back the blanket, stand, and walk to the window.

A crew of men with a boom truck are busy putting in a new yard light pole. Grady is out there, too, talking to one of them.

I wonder if he’s gotten any sleep.

My cheeks flush as I recall what was about to go down right before Bruce escaped.

Holy hell.

If that wasn’t a true sign that naked times shouldn’t be happening, nothing is. I’m here for one reason, and it doesn’t include doing the horizontal mambo with Grady in every deliriously hot position known to man and woman.

What was I thinking?

I wasn’t.

Bingo, there’s my problem.

Leaving the window, I pad through the house to steal a cup of coffee on my way through the kitchen, slugging down half of it before heading for the shower.

Luckily, I washed a second load of laundry last night, so I have plenty to wear, including a fresh bra.

The girls are in the kitchen when I come back, French toast and sausage links stacked high on their plates. Grady is there, too, pouring coffee from a fresh pot he must’ve made.

“Did you get any sleep?” I ask as I set my empty cup on the counter. “Hit me with another round, sir.”

His grin is enough to remind me how I wound up downstairs on his futon.

“Here you go, darlin’. Welcome to the land of the living.”

Good Lord, he’s a sight for sore eyes, even at the butt-crack of noon after a frenzied night out tiger hunting.

I don’t have the defense to fight off the magnetic pull he has on me.

Guess I need to work on that.

“As for sleep, I snuck in a couple hours before the power company showed up.” He taps the end of my nose. “You were so conked out on the sofa, you didn’t make a single sound when I got you a pillow and blanket.”

“Oh, jeez, thanks for that. I meant to stay awake until you got home.” My cheeks burn again.

He probably thinks I’d wanted to stay awake and join him on the futon again.

“I’m so sorry I missed brunch. I would’ve helped you,” I say, changing the subject to get his mind, and mine, on something more boring than our missed opportunity for death defying monkey-sex.

“You needed to sleep in, and breakfast duty’s my gig, remember?” He leans against the counter. “They should be done with the repair job in an hour, then I have to go to the bar and check it for damage. Gotta stay on top of anything worth the insurance claim. From the sound of it, those winds wreaked havoc across the whole county last night.”

“Can we go with you, Dad?” Sawyer asks between bites of syrupy toast. “We haven’t been to the bar in ages.”

He flashes her a dad smile that blows my ovaries into confetti.

“You mean you haven’t played the arcade games for a couple weeks,” he says.

“Almost like a month!” Avery says. “Not weeks.”

“I stand corrected. Sure, you can tag along.” He takes a full drink of coffee while looking at me. “You’d might as well come, too. We’ll eat a late lunch there and save you the trouble of fixing something. It’s bar food, but it’s decent. The Bobcat lives up to my favorite celebrity chef’s standards.”

My mind is still in the past, remembering the smoldering looks from last night, the heat of his kiss, the want that’s beginning to spark in my veins.