The Hero I Need: A Small Town Romance

by Snow, Nicole

That’s all I’ve ever hoped for, and this fiasco isn’t helping me accomplish that.

  I’m half zoned out, too in my head, listening to Grady and Faulk tossing details back and forth like two generals strategizing a war plan.

  I catch snatches of conversation about the town, the shit that keeps happening here. That’s what they call it, even if they don’t elaborate.

  “I’m telling you, man, I’m not gonna be the guy to bring another flaming bag of crap to our doorstep,” Grady growls. “I’m not getting any of my friends hurt, especially you. I think having a whole tribe of goats to bail our asses out was a one-time deal.”

  Goats? Huh?

  Faulk bursts out laughing before his tone turns serious. “Yeah, well, whoever’s doing the driving out to that place...they’d better be mighty careful. There’s no telling what’s hanging out there, or who. Anybody playing scout needs to look like they belong in those parts, not snooping around, you feel me?”

  “I know. I’ll take precautions. Maybe break out my gear and the big gun, if I need to,” Grady continues, leaning toward his friend, speaking in this low whisper I think is meant not to worry me.

  It does.

  All in all, their somewhat heated exchange makes me feel like crap on a cracker.

  “Guys? Surely there’s a vehicle I can rent,” I pipe up when I can’t take it anymore. “What if I get one that makes me look like a vacationer? A clueless hiker checking out the area, or something...”

  “Hm. I like the subterfuge idea. We’ll bring my four-wheeler along for the ride and make it look like we’re just out exploring,” Grady says before he turns to Faulk again.

  I walk to the door while the two big men talk and slip outside.

  Bruce should be waking up any time now. While walking to the barn, I scan the pasture, looking for plumes of dust. When I see the girls are still far enough away, I quickly run across the property and enter the barn.

  Just like I thought.

  Bruce is coming around, but he’s groggy and lethargic, this sleeping orange giant with lidded eyes and yawns like a backfiring exhaust. My heart goes out to him.

  He’s so beautiful, and even though he could swallow a moose, he’s helpless.

  He’s counting on me, and I’m counting on Grady McKnight.

  Honestly, I don’t know who to feel worse for, Bruce or Grady.

  Definitely not me.

  I’m saving my pity party for a time when I know my favorite tiger won’t be killed.

  Grady enters a short time later, and I know another spontaneous apology right now will probably be hollow. Talk is cheap with the expensive trouble I’m causing.

  “The beef’s here,” he tells me, entering the storage room with a large crate. “Come on in, Tobin.”

  My eyes go up at an unexpected sight.

  A well-dressed man wearing a full suit follows him, a determined look behind his spectacles, carrying another large box. Either this weird little town has some really fancy butcher shops, or else the guy dropping it off is somebody’s butler.

  Regardless, I leave the pen to go help them.

  Grady stops me near the edge. “You keep an eye on Bruce. Tobin and I will bring in the meat, special delivery from my buddy, Ridge. His guy was good enough to bring it out here. Faulk said he’d make sure the girls keep away if they come back to the house early.”

  My first instinct is to argue, but if I can smell raw meat, then so can Bruce.

  He stands up with another yawn like a small hurricane, stretching as he flicks his tail and licks his chops.

  I have to give these guys credit, they’re not used to this like I am.

  Very few people would be comfortable carrying boxes full of dinner with a hungry tiger in sniffing range. It doesn’t take long to have all the meat stuffed in the freezer, and several fresh bales of hay carried into the barn for good measure.

  Once again, I’m slayed by how much trouble Grady goes through for me, which only deepens my guilt.

  The stranger, Tobin, leaves with a dramatic bow, just as mysteriously as he arrived.

  A short time later, Faulk’s truck drives off, after he tells Grady he’ll be in touch soon.

  Our timing couldn’t be closer.

  Seconds later, the girls come racing into the yard, jabbering back and forth like little birds and laughing.

  “Hey, Dad. Why did Ridge’s truck have hay in the back of it?” Sawyer asks, pulling her helmet off as her eyes go wide. “Did he drop if off here? Are we finally gonna get a horse?!”

  Oh, boy.

  The shimmering hope in her eyes has me looking nervously at Grady.

  “No, baby,” Grady says. “I’m just busy with some renovations on the barn. You know how old it is.”

  “With hay?” she asks with a snort. “Daaaad. If you’re trying to surprise us, it won’t work!”

  She’s a sharp one and doesn’t miss much.

  That worries me.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I say, chiming in. “But hay actually helps make deep cleaning old floors so much easier. It’ll absorb any moisture in the floor so everything can be swept up easier.”

  Sawyer nods with a sigh, disappointment in her eyes.

  That was close.

  And it still is when Avery speaks up again.

  “But, Dad, why are you renovating the barn if it’s not for animals?” she asks, her brows knit together in adorable confusion.

  “Storage,” Grady says. “You know I’ve got plenty more to clean out of the back room at the bar from sprucing things up. We just need space for the stuff first.”

  “Oh.” Avery’s little face falls and she looks as let down as her sister. “I still don’t see why we can’t have an animal or two. We live on a farm.”

  “We’ve had this talk before,” Grady says gently, more for my benefit than theirs, I think.

  “We know. And we’ve had the discussion about keeping a pet at Uncle Hank’s house, too. He always says he’d be fine with it,” Sawyer says matter-of-factly, clearly not ready to surrender. “I don’t get why you won’t agree to let us try.”

  “Because then you’d have to go over there every day to take care of it,” he answers with a sigh.

  “Oh, Daddy. That wouldn’t be so bad!” Avery says.

  “Okay.” Grady levels a look at the two pint-sized lawyers making their case. “If you feel that way, I’ll ask Hank to make you help clean out his barn tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

  I smile at the clever response, though the tone in Grady’s voice when he mentions Hank makes my spine quiver slightly. Weird.

  I get the feeling this Uncle Hank isn’t one of his favorite people...

  “Aw, tomorrow?” Sawyer asks, rubbing one eye.

  “Yep, you’re both going over there then, so here’s your chance to impress me.” Grady gestures at their ATVs. “Go put those away. It’s time to start supper. We’ll eat early so you two can get some rest for a whole lot of cleanin’.”

  He walks to the house while the girls drive their four-wheelers into the shed, and I look around bewildered.

  It’s a shock to find out hiding Bruce isn’t the strangest thing here.

  I can’t help but wonder what else is going on.

  Despite everything I’ve seen today, it seems there’s a whole lot more to unravel about Grady McKnight.

  6

  Easy, Tiger (Grady)

  That does it.

  Trying to pretend like having a woman in my house is normal is enough to tip me over the edge.

  No, fuck, this scenario is so completely not normal.

  Neither is keeping Shere Khan happy and fed in the barn—or knowing that the choice I’d made last night might put all sorts of friends and family in danger.

  Trying to keep my girls’ curiosity under wraps isn’t easy when it comes to anything, but this whole situation has them both asking a lot of questions.

  Luckily, I keep them busy with chores, cleaning everything in our kitchen Willow didn’t get to. T
hat keeps them distracted while she sneaks out to check on her beast again.

  I have Aunt Faye to thank for their well-organized chore list on the fridge. It hasn’t changed much for years except a little rotation, plus adding new tasks for them as they’ve gotten older.

  Alone, I might not have realized just how important chores are for developing responsibility.

  Faye sure taught me plenty about parenting.

  Later, when we’re all in the living room, gathered around the TV, my phone rings. As if my aunt’s ears are burning several states away, I see her name lit on the screen when I lift it off the coffee table.

  I pick up the phone and step away from the teeny-bopper movie the girls picked out. While they’re watching the show, Willow runs a tiny comb through Avery’s hair, checking for bugs. She’d already checked Sawyer.

  “Hello,” I say into the phone as I enter the small library that doubles as my office off the living room and close the door behind me.

  “Grady, my dear, how are you holding up?” Aunt Faye starts. “I have a question...”

  I can almost see the disappointment in her eyes just from the way she says my name.

  She’s my ma’s sister, and they sound so much alike, at times her voice takes me back decades. Especially the way she can reprimand me with a single word in just the right tone.

  “Anything. Shoot,” I tell her.

  “I know the girls are coming home from camp tomorrow so I called Linda. She said that apparently you declined her help?” Faye asks.

  Shit.

  Busted.

  But can you blame a man when taking favors from Linda Wood means inviting her to dry hump my goddamn leg?

  “You’re right, I did. Everything’s under control, Aunt—”

  “Grady!” she says sternly, cutting me off. “You know you can’t take care of them all summer by yourself. Linda works at the school, so she has summers off. It was the perfect solution. Why would you ever say no?”

  My jaw pinches shut.

  Because I don’t want any shit with that woman or any woman.

  Because the juice is so not worth the squeeze, I’d rather stick with my hand for life.

  Because I’d rather stay a sexless, overgrown monk than play with a stick of human dynamite.

  Yeah. I’m only exaggerating a little.

  If I had a list of Hell Noes, Linda Wood would be a solid second. Right after Carolina Dibs, the town’s resident thief and queen of shady hookups.

  And at least with Carolina, you know there are a dozen ways you might get fucked over. Linda hasn’t even pretended to hide the fact that she’s on the hunt for a new husband.

  I don’t tell Faye any of that, of course.

  “How’s Gennie doing?” I try changing the subject.

  I think it works, but I’m not exactly happy about it. She lets out a pitiful sigh.

  “Not good, dear. She doesn’t have much time. The cancer’s everywhere.”

  “Damn, I’m so sorry. I’m glad you’re there with her,” I offer, sincere as ever.

  Gennie was a schoolyard friend of Aunt Faye’s and they’d stayed close for over sixty years. They’re as tight as family, which is a good thing because Gennie doesn’t have much. Her husband died years ago. Long before Brittany had.

  Just like me, Gennie only has daughters, but they haven’t been the closest.

  “Listen, if there’s anything I can do, you tell me,” I say.

  “You’re sweet, but you already know the one thing I’ll ask,” Aunt Faye says. “Focus on you and the girls. That’s why I arranged for Linda to help out. Her daughter’s the same age as the twins, so they’d have someone to play with while she’s there. You can’t take care of them and run the bar at the same time.”

  “I’ve taken a few days off. We’ll be fine,” I insist.

  “A few...days? Did I hear you right?” Her voice bristles with surprise, knowing how rare it is for me to take time off. “Don’t tell me it’s because of me?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I just needed help renovating the old barn, and Faulk had time off, so...”

  “Oh, no. Not more work. Listen, sonny, I’ll see if I can hire someone to take care of Gennie so I can come home sooner and—”

  “No way,” I interrupt. “I also took a few days off to train in the new nanny. I posted an ad online and hired someone today.”

  “You did? Who? Online? A stranger? Oh, Grady.” I can hear her worries ramping up to turbo.

  Too many questions for comfort, and her tone seeps pure disappointment.

  “Faulk knew her. She’s trustworthy,” I say.

  I’m fibbing, obviously, and playing on my aunt’s mad respect for Quinn Faulkner—mainly because he married the granddaughter of another close friend—and his approval of Willow will go a long way in calming her near-grandmotherly butt down.

  “Really?” Faye croons. “My, my. If Quinn trusts her, then I suppose—”

  “Exactly. Don’t you worry, and don’t even think about coming home a second sooner. Gennie needs help and you ought to be with her.” I hear a doorbell in the background. “Sounds like you have someone at your door?”

  “That’s the hospice nurse,” she tells me with a deflated sigh. “But this conversation isn’t over. I’ll call you later so I can hear all about this nanny.”

  “Will do, Aunt Faye. Take care.”

  She clicks off, and I have zero doubt she’ll be dialing me sooner than I think.

  I open the door and head for the living room, not expecting the scene on the couch.

  The girls are packed in close to Willow, one on each side of her. They’re all laughing at something on the show they’re watching.

  Interesting. My girls don’t normally take to strangers this fast. It’s also the perfect medicine for my aunt’s jitters.

  Opening the camera app, I carefully snap a picture from around the corner and open my messenger.

  See? New nanny’s working out great. Everybody’s happy as a lark, I text her, adding, no reason at all to worry.

  I hit send before walking to my recliner, wishing that last part were true.

  I’ve got to make damn sure it stays that way, once I’ve figured out how to get a big mess of teeth and claws off my property.

  The girls are still laughing like chipmunks, glued to the TV.

  I don’t get it. What’s so funny about the girl on the screen washing her hair?

  “Oh, Dad!” Sawyer says, no doubt catching my frown. “You just missed it. She tried putting some green stripes in her hair with food coloring—look at it!”

  I manage a smile, but I still don’t see the humor.

  The girls try to explain it a few more times, but I’m just fucking lost and glad when the show finally ends.

  On their way up to bed, Avery and Sawyer help Willow carry the last of their clothes, including the freshly washed stuff from their duffel bags. She’s been busy washing and drying their camp clothes all day.

  When she comes back down, I head up to say good night to my girls.

  What I don’t expect—what hits me like a bullet—are the hugs.

  Hugs and sweet praise for “finding Willow” in their words.

  Shit.

  I’ve tried not to notice how much they’re already connecting to her. Hadn’t dwelled on it with everything else going on.

  Not till I close their doors and plod back downstairs.

  Willow’s just walking in the sliding glass door when I enter the kitchen.

  “How’s he doing?” I ask, ignoring the emotional shock in my gut.

  “Sleeping like the big fat fluff he is,” she says with an impish grin.

  I have to fight not to smile back.

  She’s goddamn cute by default, yeah, but when her eyes sparkle with so much easy blue-tinged humor...their shine reaches down inside me and touches something buried.

  Something it shouldn’t.

  Something that’s been black as night for a long time like a starless s
ky over a beach with onyx sands.

  “Don’t worry, I double-checked the locks. Everything’s secure.” She locks the sliding door and walks toward her room. “I’m going to hit the hay myself.” She yawns, stretching her arms overhead. “The lack of sleep is really catching up with me...”

  “Good night, darling,” I whisper, hating how I stare when she stops and turns.

  “’Night, Grady. And for what it’s worth, thanks again. I can’t possibly repay all you’re doing.”

  I remain silent.

  Once the door to her room closes, I release the fierce breath I’d held in and start moving.

  Shut off the kitchen light. Lock the front door. Then go kill the rest of the lights before making my way up to my room.

  The thirty-hour exhaustion should be catching up with me, too, but even as I settle into bed, my mind won’t shut up.

  Snarling, I roll over, cupping my hands behind my head and crossing my legs at the ankles.

  It’s not like the first time there’s a guest under my roof. Aunt Faye slept downstairs for years in the same converted porch when she was here for heavy duty babysitting, or we were hit with bad weather.

  Guess it’s just different knowing it’s a blue-eyed angel with sinful wine lips and a body I’d like to turn my inner Viking loose on.

  Damn.

  Yeah, it’s different, and I’m an idiot for letting it be.

  Knowing my daughters have already made friends with the tiger thief doesn’t sit well.

  In fact, it’s pretty damn disconcerting.

  Unleashing a slow sigh, I brace for the avalanche of shit pouring through my head.

  * * *

  The girls were so young when Brittany died.

  They don’t remember how her illness stole her memories, her mind, her soul...

  They don’t remember how she didn’t know who they were, how the disease took that from her, or how she didn’t know who I was, either.

  The disease obliterated our love.

  Neurological conditions are no fucking joke. Hers hollowed her out, left her little more than a brittle shell of a person when she finally passed.

  I say finally because it was a long, grueling road for her.

  For us.