The Hero I Need: A Small Town Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  The side door sliding open has me leaping to my feet.

  “Hey,” Grady says, watching me as I grab the side of the wall. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I hold up my phone. “Just got the call I knew was coming.”

  Frowning, he asks, “From who?”

  “My father.”

  We lock eyes. In those quiet moments after the best loving of my life, lying together in bed, I’ve told him a lot, including who my father is and why he’s in Africa.

  “Exotic Plains sent him a message saying I was missing.”

  His eyes widen into mocha pools, anger rippling through them.

  “And?” he asks.

  I shove the phone in my pocket. “And he’s doing fine. I’m doing fine. All’s good. Dad doesn’t know about the FBI probe or the Fosses trying to set us up. And I’m hoping we can keep it that way while he’s still off the grid. What are you doing?”

  “Hank just got here to pick up the girls for the rodeo tonight. They want him to see Bruce before they leave.” He glances at the pen, where Bruce is still pacing around. “Is that all right?”

  I haven’t seen Hank since the night he helped with the barn door, but I know the girls text him constantly.

  “Yeah, they’ll just need to stand back. Even though it’s safe enough with the metal fencing you put up, he’s awfully restless today. I think he knows I’ve found him a new home and he’s getting worried.”

  “He’s not the only one right to fret over that,” Grady says with a snort.

  He knows how worried I am about it, too.

  “Go ahead. Let them in.”

  He looks at me for a still moment, quickening my heart rate.

  I have to glance away. Otherwise, I might walk closer and hold my face up to his, expecting a kiss.

  For shame. I can only do that in private, and it’s getting harder all the time to remember it.

  “Come on in,” Grady says.

  I walk to the enclosed pen, putting myself between Bruce and the door behind me. This will only be the second time since Grady installed the chain-link that we’ve let the kids in the barn on the main level—with very clear instructions to stay at least eight feet back from the enclosed pen at all times.

  So far, they’ve behaved like little angels.

  A moment later, Hank follows Sawyer and Avery inside. He’s got a tall black cowboy hat on today, the remnants of a cigar hanging from his mouth, and gives me a quick nod before his gaze lands on Bruce. He takes an instinctive step back the second the massive tiger looks up.

  “Shit!” he whispers, slapping his thigh.

  The girls both giggle and try to urge him closer. They’re still a good fifteen or twenty feet back.

  “He won’t hurt you, Uncle Hank!” Sawyer says, tugging at his arm.

  “Uh, yeah, Thing One, you’ve got that right.” Hank’s feet are glued to the floor. “I ain’t giving him the chance.”

  “Come on, Uncle Hank, he’s friendly! You can come just a little closer,” Avery says.

  “No sirree, I can see all the black stripes and teeth I need to from here,” Hank says with a nod. “Damn. He looks even bigger than that night I saw him in the trailer.”

  “That’s because he’s standing up!” Sawyer says, smiling so hard her nose scrunches.

  Curious, Bruce walks toward us with a loud yawn, and then he lets out a small half-interested rawr.

  “That’s his way of saying hello,” I tell Hank, who looks like he’s about to run for the hills.

  Bruce comes closer for a better look, propping his head above the wooden wall around the pen, his furry orange and white face pressed to the mesh. His tongue flops out like a big dog for several seconds, before he lets out a grunting yawn.

  “Uncle Haaank! Come back!”

  I hear the shuffle of feet and by the time I turn around, only Grady stands behind me. Hank has already flown the coop with the girls close behind him.

  With a grin and a shrug, Grady laughs. “Hot damn, I don’t think I’ve seen Hank move that fast in years.”

  “Well...Bruce takes some getting used to.” We exit the barn together and I wait while Grady secures the locks.

  Hank leans against his truck, looking like he’s just survived the headless horseman. The girls are both busy trying to explain there’s nothing to be afraid of.

  “That was just his way of saying hello!” Sawyer insists.

  I suppress a laugh.

  “Yeah, little ladies, if you ask me that was one big-ass hello,” Hank says, looking up as we approach. “Dang, man. Can’t believe you’ve got a full-grown tiger!”

  “This is news?” Grady chuckles. “I told you, and you saw him that night we fixed the barn.”

  Hank laughs. “Yeah, well, it was dark that night after the storm. I barely got a glimpse of him lying down in his trailer.” He pats each girl on the head. “You two go get your stuff so we can head on out to the rodeo. Least the Selleck bulls are still the scariest critters there.”

  The girls run to the house.

  “Only ’cause Joyce got all her cheating husband’s bulls in the divorce,” Grady says with a smirk. “I left my wallet in the house. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

  As he walks away, Hank looks at me.

  “That’s some cat, Miss Willow. Hope you’ll excuse me for turning into a cowardly lion.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t know how you did it, neither, but thanks!”

  Frowning, I ask, “Thanks? For what?”

  “Oh, you know...Grady’s been dead set against having any furry friends around here since before Brittany died. You sure turned his butt around, big-time.”

  “Well, it’s not like Bruce will be staying here permanently,” I say. “It’s just temporary. A freak accident.”

  “I feel that, but it’s more than just the giant cat. He’s almost back to his old self with the way he is around you. I knew it’d take time—a helluva lot of time—but well...all I’m saying is it’s good to see him livin’ it up again. He’s focusing on his own life, not just the bar and the twins. Before the other night when your boy went on a tear, he barely spoke to me.”

  “Oh, I...” I trail off, lifting my brows, wondering where this is going.

  “Yeah. I think he always thought I blamed him for my sister’s death. I never did. Not for one hot minute. He did everything he could for her, and more. Fixing that barn door with him was just like the good old times, and it’s all thanks to you, Willow. I’m hoping to see a whole lot more of ’em.”

  “Of what?” Grady asks, approaching us.

  “Ah, tigers, man. What else?” Hank says with a wink for me. “But hell, I prefer it when they’re at a zoo behind glass. A nice thick big old slab of window.”

  Grady slaps Hank’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s pretty intimidating, even for a rough-riding cowboy.” Grady then takes several bills out of his wallet and pushes them toward Hank. “For the rodeo,” he explains.

  “Huh? Keep your cash, Grady, I’ve got it covered,” Hank says. “I already bought the tickets.”

  “You don’t get it.” Grady stuffs the bills in Hank’s breast pocket. “They’ll eat this much worth of fried cheese curds, corn dogs, and cotton candy—probably the first hour you’re there.”

  The girls come flying out of the house then, both dressed in jeans, boots, plaid shirts, big belt buckles, and cowboy hats that match their shirts and boots. One pink and one purple.

  Hank climbs into his truck and throws the passenger door open. “Thing One and Thing Two, let’s go!”

  A short time later, as they’re driving away, I ask Grady, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the rodeo, too? Looks like a nice time to have fun with family.”

  “I’m sure,” he says. “You remember what Faulk said the other day.”

  Oh, right.

  It’s my fault he’s stuck here with me.

  Cue the nervous laughter.

  Faulk made it clear that with everything goin
g on, I should stay out of sight as much as possible, and always have someone around to protect me. Apparently, other messy situations that happened in Dallas always wound up with the damsel in distress coming too close for comfort to an ambush.

  And though I’m no damsel—perish the thought—there’s no denying the distressed part.

  “I’m glad Hank was able to take the girls, at least. They were really looking forward to it and they shouldn’t be cooped up here with us just because...you know.”

  “They love it,” he rumbles. “You would, too, I’m sure.” Winking at me, he says, “We’ll go another time.”

  I smile and nod, knowing there won’t be another time.

  As much as I think I like it here, it’s not where I belong. I’m a zoologist. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be, and there isn’t a zoo here or any exotics besides Bruce for miles.

  No place for my career.

  I wish that wasn’t true, but I can’t just up and abandon everything I’ve ever wanted. And even if I wanted to, Grady wouldn’t let me give up on my dream.

  There’s a buzzing noise. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, looks at the screen, and the canyon of a frown on his face sends a shiver up my spine.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

  “The cameras at the airstrip. They’re picking up motion.”

  “Another animal?” I ask.

  That’s happened several times. Other than the night when Priscilla sold that poor lion cub, there hasn’t been any activity besides the occasional deer or a bloated raccoon skittering past.

  “No, I don’t think so. Let’s get a better look on the screens downstairs.”

  “It can’t be another exchange,” I whisper, following him into the house. “They always happen in the middle of the night.”

  Head down, he’s still staring at his phone. “Looks like someone walking around. I’m not sure. It’s too small to tell on this screen.”

  “A hiker?” I ask.

  “We hope,” he growls, this protective snarl in his voice.

  We head for the basement, and I try hard to keep my eyes off the futon. The girls never come down into his man cave, nor have they noticed the extra bedding I’m washing on a regular basis.

  It feels odd, this secret love affair.

  Not that I want them to know.

  I don’t.

  But a small part of me wishes we could kiss in the open. Foolish, selfish, and a thousand other bad things. I know.

  “Do you recognize them?” he asks, pointing at the screen as the app syncs to cast the footage.

  I take a good look, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

  “No, I don’t think—wait.” I lean closer to the screen. “Oh, crap. That’s Wayne Bordell, the scummy conservation officer. Looks like he’s back.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Grady agrees. “And it looks like he’s found one of the cameras, snooping around the edges of the airstrip.”

  “Great,” I whisper, trying to fight the icy chill sweeping my blood.

  I plop down on the other chair and hold my breath as Bordell examines the camera up close, a sneer on his face. Then the feed from his camera goes black.

  “Do you think he’ll find the rest?”

  “Guess we’ll just have to watch and see.” He picks up his phone and stabs at the screen.

  “Are you texting Faulk?”

  “Damn straight. We need to know if the camera feeds are traceable.” His eyes meet mine, bearish and dark.

  Oh, Jesus.

  I hadn’t even thought about that.

  My heart thuds with weighted fear. There’s so much about this insanity that keeps surprising me. So many ways to suffer, fall into ruin, or worse.

  His phone pings almost instantly.

  “Faulk says no. The feeds are blocked. Untraceable, no matter what kind of equipment that fuck has.”

  “Um, he just found another camera,” I say, feeling thwarted, watching another screen go black.

  “Let him. He can’t hurt you here, I promise, darlin’.”

  Grady rests a hand on my knee, as if he knows just how to make me feel better.

  Together, we watch as Bordell frantically searches the area, and finds all but one camera. He comes close to uncovering the last unit several times, but never touches it where it sits, half covered behind a few long stalks of grass.

  After about ten minutes of no movement, Grady leans back in his chair, heaving a sigh.

  “Looks like he left empty-handed. We’ve still got one set of eyes, even if this one isn’t the best quality,” he says.

  “Did you see a vehicle?”

  “Nope, but he must’ve had one. It’s not on the road, though—our last camera still shows part of the service road and nothing ever came by.”

  I nod. “And most of the runway. We’ll see if something else goes down tonight.”

  “We will, and we’ll capture every second if it does. That’s more hard evidence Faulk can give to the FBI in our defense.”

  “You mean mine,” I say weakly, turning to meet his eyes.

  My mouth goes dry at the way he’s looking at me.

  His gaze drips this odd mix of empathy and desire and promises.

  I tell myself not to think about what’s been on my mind ever since we entered the basement. My body might as well be a hungry dog subjected to Pavlov’s conditioning.

  Being down here puts one thing on my mind, no matter how much bad news hits us in the face.

  Actually, it’s been on my mind well before then.

  Hard, sweaty, all-too-addicting sex with Grady McKnight.

  “You’re okay, woman. Looks like you need a reminder,” he growls, holding out a hand.

  God help me, I move from my chair to his lap, straddling him, loving the rush of instant heat blazing up my legs to the apex between my thighs.

  Our communication goes rough and primal then.

  His thick hands slide under my shirt, pushing it up as his lips capture mine in a long heated kiss.

  Our tongues dance with need, fencing each other in a contest to see who gives out first, who needs it right the hell now.

  When our lips part, I’m definitely the loser.

  Too drunk on him to even consider not continuing what we’re craving.

  He’s already unclasped my bra, so I grab it along with the hem of my shirt and yank them both over my head. He catches them in his huge hand and hurls them against the wall.

  “Perfect.” His mouth finds my nipple, raking his beard against my skin.

  Oh, God.

  I’m already a whimpering mess.

  “And this other one? Heaven,” he growls, twisting my other bud between his thumb and forefinger.

  My panties were already soaking wet for him, but now I can’t even feel how drenched they are behind the dull ache.

  The need to be under his piston hips as he fills me to my limit.

  He’s so damn good at foreplay. Half the time I wind up coming at least once before we get to the main event.

  It’s just amazing and different from anything I’ve ever had and I love every second.

  Today is no exception.

  He sucks, licks, and lashes my breasts with his animal mouth until I’m squirming against his thick thighs, and then he plunges one hand between my legs, flicks my lace aside, and feels what’s already his.

  “You want more?” he teases, knowing full well I do, stuffing two fingers in my hot cunt. “Say the magic word.”

  Slayed.

  I force myself to stop biting my lip so I can actually obey this beast.

  “Yes,” I whimper. “Grady, please, you...you know I do.”

  “You want me to take you right the fuck here? On this chair?”

  I nod, too far gone for words, a low, sultry moan escaping my mouth.

  “You’re lucky I agree,” he says with a heavy chuckle.

  Holy hell.

  My body is a shrieking mess, my hips rolling, pleading for more.


  I stand up just long enough to jerk down my shorts and panties.

  He does the same, fishing a condom package out of his pocket. I grin at how well armed for action he is lately.

  But I guess that comes with the territory when we can’t stop flinging ourselves at each other like wild rabbits.

  Rather than slide the rubber over his length, he sets the package on the desk and pulls me forward, straddling his lap again as he sits back down.

  “Want me to help put that on?” I ask, burning with need.

  His cock is so perfect, the sight of it alone nearly has me feeling his thrusts.

  “Not yet. I’m not done warming you up,” he growls in my ear, threading his fingers through my hair, all hot breath as he stamps his lips down my neck.

  I. Am. Dead.

  I suck in a breath as his fingers enter me again, this time stroking with feral intent.

  “You good with this, Willow Wisp? You know how bad I get it every time you come for me,” he rasps, his needy voice booming against my ear.

  Oh, God. Yes. I know.

  I grasp the base of his cock and give it a long, slow, winding stroke.

  “Just...as long as I can play with you, too,” I whisper, trying to keep control against the intense stroke of his fingers.

  “Remind me what that mouth does,” he demands, pressing his forehead to mine, filling my eyes with his fire. “Suck me, woman.”

  I almost lose it right there, my walls tensing around his fingers.

  Oh, I’m always down to demonstrate my skills.

  I’m so in love with how rock-hard he gets while still feeling velvety soft, and use both hands in devotion, playing with his balls at the same time.

  His hands are just as busy.

  One huge palm gives my tits full attention, along with his mouth, while his other hand owns my pussy, raking pleasure out of me in quickening strokes, and teasing my clit with his thumb until I’m a tight, shaking mess trying to keep control.

  “Bring it,” he whispers against my skin. “Come on my hand. Let it fucking go.”

  Just like that, I’m so flipping gone.

  My body arches and I throw my arms around his shoulders, rocking into his strokes. White-hot bliss slams my brain as I go into convulsions. His grasp keeps me grounded while his hand squeezes everything he can get from me, his lips stealing every soft, shaking sigh.