by Tawna Fenske
“Grady.” Her thighs clenched around him as her hips rose up off the bed and she arched tight and sweet against him. “Oh God.”
He toppled over the edge with her, losing himself completely. What was it with this woman?
When he came back down, Willa curled against him like an animal seeking warmth. There was something tender in the movement, something achingly vulnerable, a side to her he’d never seen before.
“You okay?” he murmured as he planted a kiss along her hairline.
“Perfect.” She laughed softly. “My hero.”
And there it was again. The hero thing. He didn’t really believe it, but it was a part of him, just like the job.
These pangs of terror, they didn’t mean anything. Who the fuck cared what the future held, as long as he had moments like this?
Moments with the world’s most beautiful woman cradled against him, her heart thudding fast and solid with his, reminding him that whatever lurked ahead didn’t matter. Not in relationships and sure as hell not in life.
As he stroked a hand down her bare back, he almost believed it.
…
Grady woke up alone and not 100 percent sure where he was. He blinked a few times to clear his head, grateful to find himself in an actual bed and not on a forest floor with a rattlesnake wrapped up in his sleeping bag. What was that on his feet?
He sat up and looked at the foot of the bed where a black and white tuxedo cat lay curled in the tangle of blankets.
“Hey, kitty.”
The cat didn’t move and appeared to have all its legs, so this must be the deaf one. Earmuff? He reached down to scratch its ears, and the cat opened its eyes and stretched. After studying Grady a moment and finding him uninteresting, the cat lay down again and went back to sleep.
“Where’s your owner?” he asked.
No response. Not that he expected one from a deaf cat. He patted the other side of the bed, surprised to discover it cool to the touch. Willa had been gone awhile.
He located his pants and boxers and pulled them on, not bothering with a shirt or shoes. A rustling in the corner caught his attention, and he glanced over to see Stevie the blind dog heaving himself to his feet.
“Hey, Stevie,” he murmured as the big dog lumbered over to snuffle his hand for snacks. “Do you know where she is?”
If Stevie knew, he wasn’t telling, but he did turn and walk out of the bedroom. Grady followed, impressed that the sightless beast didn’t bump into any doorframes or even graze the towering bookshelf at the end of the hall. Grady slowed his pace, conscious of the fact that he hadn’t been invited into this part of the house yet. Would Willa be pissed he’d gone wandering?
Unconcerned, Stevie ambled past the bookcase and disappeared around the corner. Grady hesitated, not sure he should wander this far. Then he heard a sniffle.
And another. And a soft hiccup that was almost a sob. No, it was a sob. He hurried around the corner where he saw Willa—crying?
She sat on the floor with her legs crossed and her face tilted down. Her hair made a curtain around her, and through it, he glimpsed tear tracks on her cheeks. He stepped forward to comfort her when he heard the noise.
“Rarrrrrrrrr.”
The low growl snapped Grady’s attention to the corner, where a massive gray cat sat perched on the end of a file cabinet. Even with its left front leg missing, the creature looked ready to strike. Willa jumped to her feet, swiping at her eyes.
“Grady.” She dashed the heels of her hands across her cheeks again as she ran to the still-growling cat. “Barrow, stop it.”
She swooped in and grabbed the animal, burying her face in its fur. The cat growled again, looking dismayed at being used as a Kleenex.
Grady stood there like an idiot, not sure what to say. “Are you okay?”
Of course she wasn’t okay. Any moron could see that. He stepped forward to comfort her, but Willa stepped back.
“I’m fine.” She pasted on a cardboard smile and tossed her hair as the cat snarled again. “Just watching one of those sad animal videos on YouTube, you know?”
Grady didn’t know, since her phone was nowhere in sight. And her laptop was on the other side of the room, a screensaver flickering its evidence that no one had touched it for a good long while.
She must have seen him notice because her shoulders slumped a bit. “Fine,” she said. “It wasn’t that. I just—I didn’t get a job I really wanted. This RFP I submitted recently, I thought for sure I’d get it, but I didn’t, and I was bummed. Okay?”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” He watched her face, pretty sure that wasn’t the whole story but also sure he shouldn’t push. Not now. “I know you work hard, so that must be disappointing.”
“It’s fine,” she said again. “I’m totally fine.”
“Do you need a minute alone or—?”
“No, I’m good.” She forced a shaky-sounding laugh and held out the cat. “This is Barrow,” she said as the cat growled again. “He’s—uh—a little protective.”
Barrow stared at Grady and hissed his greeting, so Grady kept his hands shoved in his pockets. He ached to reach for her—Willa, not the cat—to offer comfort or tenderness or anything else she might need.
But she didn’t appear to need anything. Not from him, anyway, so Grady kept his distance. “I think I met Earmuff,” he said. “That’s your other cat, right?”
“Right.” The look she gave him was almost grateful, and he sensed he’d done the right thing by pretending everything was okay. “Wow, so I guess you’ve met everyone. Well, everyone except Carl the fish. Here, he’s right on my desk—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’d rather wait.”
She blinked at him. “You want to wait to meet my fish.”
“Yes.”
“Um—okay.”
The look she gave him was like he’d just stuck lit firecrackers in his ears, but Grady didn’t care. He leaned against the doorframe, taking in her rumpled hair, her sex-flushed skin, and wanting her all over again.
But mostly he wanted to know her, to be the kind of guy she’d confide in, who she’d invite into her life for more than just a few rolls in the hay. It was dumb, since this no-strings-attached thing had served him well forever.
That was before he met Willa.
He raked his fingers through his hair, conscious of her staring at him like he was nuts. “You said meeting cats and fish is second-date stuff,” he said.
“I was kidding.”
“Nope, you said it.” He offered a sheepish smile as the cat in her arms growled again. “And right now, I haven’t met the fish.”
She cocked her head at him, her puzzled expression shifting to amusement. “I suppose that’s true.”
“So I’m better off saving Carl for another time,” he said. “To make the second date really count.”
“That seems wise,” Willa said, clearly not buying it any more than he did.
But she didn’t argue. And right then, that seemed like the biggest win he could hope for. That and pulling her against his chest.
“Come here,” he said, holding his arms open. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I can at least give you a hug.”
She hesitated, and Grady could see the conflict playing through her mind. Needing someone, accepting comfort from another person—that wasn’t in her wheelhouse. Handling everything on her own was more her style.
But he saw the moment she relented. Saw it in her eyes that she knew he wasn’t a threat, and a hug wouldn’t make her weaker. It might even help.
“Sure.” She set Barrow down on the floor, and the three-legged cat scampered away as fast as a three-legged cat could possibly scamper.
Some of her timidity was back as she stepped forward, almost like they hadn’t hugged before. Like he hadn’t been buried inside her more tha
n once.
And then she was in his arms, burrowing against him. “Thanks, Grady.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, holding her to him, feeling her heart beat against his.
It felt like his biggest win so far.
Chapter Ten
Willa rubbed her lips together in the mirror, then felt like a dummy for putting on lipstick to go mini golfing.
Which was not a date. Everyone knew mini golf wasn’t a date, at least according to Grady. She’d threatened to Google it on the phone with him last night but got distracted when she typed in “is miniature golf” and autofill came back with “foreplay.”
“You’ve been messing with my computer,” she’d accused as she retried the search with the same results.
“I never touched your computer,” he’d promised. “Speaking of touching things that belong to you—”
“Seriously, this is weird.” Willa had gone through the rest of the search results again. “The second autofill suggestion is ‘is miniature golf a profitable business?’ Are there really a lot of people googling that?”
“Can we get back to the foreplay one?” he asked. “Because I just realized I totally missed my chance at a golf/foreplay joke. You know—fore?”
“Good Lord, I’m dating a twelve-year-old,” she’d muttered even though the joke made her laugh.
“We’re not dating,” he insisted. “And miniature golf isn’t a date. It’s about as romantic as bowling. Which also is not a date.”
“I know, I know,” she assured him, secretly thrilled he was so eager to spend time with her that he’d make up these ridiculous rules so that she didn’t have to break her rules. Or his. “Pick me up at noon.”
Willa glanced at her watch now, aware that she was ready a full thirty minutes before he was scheduled to arrive. Might as well get some work done.
She sat down at her desk and pulled up the spreadsheet for Visit Hart Valley, the city’s tourism bureau. One of her longest-standing clients, they made up almost a quarter of her income. That was scary. Her dad always warned her never to put all her eggs in one basket, surprisingly sound advice from a guy with the business acumen of a cactus.
Scrolling through her docs, her eyes landed on the RFP for Tranquility Villa again, and she had to force herself to keep breathing past the tightness in her chest. Dammit.
She’d wanted that job so badly. It wasn’t the money, though that would have been nice. It was the chance to develop a website for one of the foremost providers of drug and alcohol rehab centers, a company she’d researched back when she tried to get her father into treatment.
“I don’t have a problem,” her father had insisted when she came to him at twelve years old with a brochure from Tranquility Villa. “And even if I did, I could handle it myself. I wouldn’t need some damn facility.”
But all the literature Willa had read said he did need professional help. That detoxing could be fatal without medical supervision and that odds of recovery were slim for alcoholics who tried going cold turkey on their own.
She never did convince him to go. They didn’t have the money anyway. And now she’d failed at landing them as a client, which would have given her access to super-discounted services for family members—
“Stop it,” she told herself. “Just keep working. Focus on the next client and the ones you already have.”
Her little pep talk kept her going until she lost track of time. When the doorbell rang, she jumped in her chair and bumped Carl’s fishbowl.
“Sorry.” She straightened the glass globe and made a beeline for her front door while Stevie barked his fool head off.
“Hey,” she said as she opened the door, her heart fluttering only a little at the sight of Grady standing there with a bouquet of—
“Beef jerky,” Grady said, thrusting it out to her. “Because real flowers suggest it’s a date, and this isn’t a date.”
Willa took the bizarre bouquet, marveling at the workmanship required to twist strips of beef jerky into a dozen perfect rosettes mounted on wooden skewers.
Stevie danced with joy at her feet. He might not be able to see, but he could definitely smell the treat to end all treats. Willa laughed. “This might not be a date, but Stevie’s already half in love with you.”
Proving her point, Stevie nudged Grady’s hand with his big snout. Grady obliged, and Willa couldn’t help envying the gentle stroking. “He’s in love with my beef jerky,” Grady said. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
Willa turned from the door. “Let me just put these in…um, what kind of vase do you use for jerky flowers?”
“Beats me.” Grady kept scratching Stevie’s ears with those long, strong fingers. “Someplace the pets can’t get to them.”
She ran back to the kitchen and tucked the jerky flowers in the fridge. After grabbing her sweater off a chair, she hustled back to the front door where Grady waited.
“Ready?”
“Yep.” She bent to scratch Stevie one last time, assuring him he was the best dog in the world before following Grady out the door to his rig—
“Where’s your truck?” Willa stopped in the middle of the driveway and stared at the big, shiny motorcycle.
Grady grinned as he turned to face her. “I always wanted a Harley.” He swept a hand toward the gleaming piece of machinery. “Before you freak out, a buddy of mine was selling this for a great price. I couldn’t resist.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, I have an extra helmet. I even splurged and added the Bluetooth intercom so we can talk to each other if we want. Here you go.” He slid the helmet onto her head, gently adjusting the chin strap as he looked into her eyes. “Are you okay?”
Not in the slightest. “Of course,” she said, forcing a smile.
“I’m a safe driver, I promise,” he said. “I took a motorcycle safety course last year, since I knew I’d be doing this someday.”
He helped her onto the bike and showed her how to wrap her arms around him and lean with him on the curves. “I probably shouldn’t have worn a skirt,” she said into the intercom as he turned onto the road leading to the amusement park.
“What’s that?” he shouted.
Huh. Maybe her voice hadn’t triggered the intercom. “I said I want to marry you and have your babies.”
She meant it as a joke, pretty sure he couldn’t hear her anyway.
But he slowed just enough to send her heart racing, to have her thinking what if? Not what if he’d heard her, but what if she really could have that—
No.
That was stupid, almost as stupid as getting involved with someone who splurged on expensive meals or motorcycles, which was fine for him, but Willa broke out in hives whenever she wasn’t cautious and frugal and saving and—
“Here we are,” he called as he pulled into the lot. He brought the bike to a halt, then swung himself off and helped her do the same. As his hands slid from her waist, he skimmed his palm down and back up under her skirt, giving her butt a quick squeeze.
“The skirt was a great idea,” he said, grinning at her. “So was the thong. We’ll talk later about the marriage and babies.”
Aw, crap. “I was kidding.”
“I know.” His grin didn’t waver as he took her hand and pulled her toward the entrance.
The lobby of Hart Valley Fun Center buzzed with joyful clamor. The crash of bowling pins, the laughter of children running past with lopsided party hats, the cheerful chirps from the video arcade—all of it combined to form a melody that was somehow familiar and foreign.
Willa never had a birthday party here, but she’d been to one once. She’d collected soda cans for weeks to save for a Dollar Store teddy bear that earned her admission to Lacey Simpson’s tenth birthday festivities. Even now, she could taste the root beer on the back of her tongue, feel the buzz of excitement
at having Lacey’s mother check her seat belt and pay the friendly attendant for the go-karts.
“Two rounds of mini golf, please,” Grady told the bored-looking teenager behind the counter.
“Pick your balls,” the kid said without a hint of humor.
Willa chose pink, while Grady grabbed green. “To match your eyes,” he said, winking at her.
She glanced at the ball and snorted. “If my eyes are neon green, I need to visit the ophthalmologist.”
“Grab a putter and let’s go.”
He led her outside to the course, holding her hand the whole time. They made their way to the first tee, a pretty little Astroturf-covered spot with a windmill and a puddle she guessed was meant to be a pond.
“Would you like to go first?” He gestured to the tee, and Willa stepped up with her putter in hand.
“Absolutely.” She got into position, even though she’d only done this a couple of times before. Not like anyone played mini golf seriously, so she might as well have fun with it.
“Fore!” she called, though they were the only ones on the course. The ball bonked off the windmill and meandered across the turf until it settled at the edge.
“Nice shot,” he said, rubbing his palms together as he adjusted his grip on his own club. He stepped up to the tee, assuming a stance that told her he’d done this a time or two. His brow furrowed, and the look of intense concentration on his face told her he was taking this way more seriously than she’d expected.
Thwack!
The ball bounced easily off the windmill, then tumbled down the chute and around the water feature, almost like he’d planned it that way. Which he had, she realized, as he followed the ball with his eyes, frowning the whole time.
“Come on, come on,” he murmured under his breath. “Shit. There’s a breeze—”
“Oh no.” Willa stared at him. “You’re one of those guys.”
He blinked at her. “What guys?”
“The kind of guy who treats every sport like he’s a professional athlete.”
He frowned. “No, I don— Ah, come on! Damn.” Glaring at his ball, he grumbled something unintelligible and looked back at her. “What?”