by Snow, Nicole
“I...I think I can do that,” I tell him, desperate to collect myself again.
His booming laughter snaps me out of my funk.
“No second chances, Willow. You already agreed.”
Great.
At least I’m laughing too, even while I say, “I don’t remember signing any contract.”
“Verbal agreement.” He starts up the steps. “It was implied.”
“Implied?” I bound up two steps to be even with him.
“What’s so funny, you guys?” Sawyer asks, perched near the doorway above us.
A hot flush knifes through me, and I wonder if she’s old enough to sense when two adults are flirting like playground kids. Eep.
I glance at him.
Grady nods.
Looking at Sawyer with her little face scrunched up, I take a deep breath.
“Your dad and I were just laughing about a cat,” I say carefully.
“A cat? What cat? Do you have a cat? Where is it? Is that what you went to pick up today?” Her face bunches, every sentence firing off faster than the last.
Welp. She’s basically jumping up and down now.
Before I can say anything—or find the off switch—she’s yelling with both hands cupped over her small mouth. “Avery, hey, Avery! C’mere, you’re never gonna believe this!”
A second later, her feet echo on the stairs overhead, pounding as she climbs up.
“So much for implied. That just went to confirmed,” Grady growls, humor flashing in his eyes.
Smiling, I shake my head.
“I already agreed to the nanny thing yesterday, and I’m not one to back out. So fine, mister. Until I leave, I’m your full time live-in nanny, and if you’re really nice, I’ll even try my hand at cooking.” I skim past him up the last few steps while saying, “But don’t you come whining at me when you end up with food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning?”
I run faster, afraid he might catch me as I head for the kitchen.
He rounds the corner and stops. Feet braced. Arms at his sides. Totally eyeing me, assessing if my next move will be left or right.
I shift left.
So does he.
I bounce right.
He mirrors me.
Then I just start laughing like a crazy person.
“You’re nuts, Grady McKnight.”
“Nope. I just don’t want to be poisoned, Willow Macklin.”
I flip a hand at him and add a nonchalant sigh. “You won’t be. Bruce never complained.”
“He likes his meat a hundred percent red. I take mine medium rare.”
He’s way too charming.
I suppress a laugh, planting both hands on my hips.
“Careful. I said I’d try to cook, remember? Cook. Not fancy foods, not steaks seared to perfection, and no grilling. You might end up with food poisoning if you expect that, and this time I’m not even joking.”
“Deal.” He grins, holding out one massive hand.
This time, when I take it, I’m ready.
The electric heat that grabs me every time we touch feels so much softer now, so much more additive. It’s not even a flirty, magic, meaningful touch.
He just shakes my hand like we’ve just made the deal of the century.
“Is it true? Is it true? Oh, Willow, please say it’s true!” Avery slides around the corner, much like her father did a minute ago. “Say that you brought us a cat!”
“Tell her it’s true!” Sawyer belts out as she flies into the kitchen—too fast.
The poor thing loses her footing and hits the floor, skidding on both knees.
Grady springs into action before she even tears up, grabbing her off the floor before any real damage is done. But her knees are red and she’s fighting hard not to cry.
I find a towel, toss it under cold water, wring it out, and meet Grady at the table as he sets her on a chair.
“Best slide into home plate I’ve ever seen,” he says with a dad-smile, taking the damp cloth from me and pressing it to Sawyer’s knees gingerly, one at a time.
I go to the sink, pull another towel out of the drawer, and run it under more cold water. After wringing it out, I carry it back to Sawyer.
“Here you go, hun.”
She gives me a half-smile and uses it to blot the tears away from the corners of her eyes. I’ve been there before, that awkward age where you’re almost a teenager on her way to womanhood, but not quite.
Still a kid, yet too old to want your dad fussing over you.
My heart goes out to Grady. His little girls are growing up fast and he’s not sure if he should treat them like five-year-olds or fifteen-year-olds.
He lets them ride around on ATVs all by themselves, but when they skin their knees, when they hurt and need him? Then he’s all over them like they’re just learning to walk.
It’s a beautiful sticky sweetness that plucks at something deep inside me, this human chord that could make me too fond of him if it’s strummed too many times.
“How are you doing, kiddo?” Grady asks her.
“Fine, Dad.” Sawyer hands me the cloth I’d given her.
“You sure? That was a tumble,” he says.
“Slip,” she corrects. “I just slipped.”
For a split second, my eyes find his and we share a knowing smile.
Looking at me, she perks up again.“Sooo do you have a cat or not?”
Very slowly, I nod. “I do.”
“Here?” Avery asks, scurrying around the room like it’s an Easter egg hunt.
“Not in the house,” I tell them. “He’s in the barn, and I think in a little while, he’d love to meet you.”
8
Claws Out (Grady)
Walking into the shed, I lean against the doorframe for a minute and try to screw my head back on.
Gotta let my mind catch up with my heart.
Mostly because I’m sure that I’ve lost it today somewhere in between dealing with my girls, a too-hot-for-life tiger thief my hands keep wanting to touch, and—oh, yeah—a secret four-legged monster that could peel my face off.
And it looks like said monster is about to become a little less secret.
Insanity.
That’s the only explanation for deciding to let my daughters inside our barn slash tiger’s den.
Obviously, they’re keeping a safe distance and I have a plan so Bruce can’t ever get to them, but hell...
There are times in a man’s life when he blunders back and has to ask himself, what the ever-loving fuck are you doing?
Willow’s endless courage around the beast still amazes me and lends a little more courage suggesting this isn’t a godforsaken dumb idea. It’s a weird contrast to see such a small, pretty woman next to a behemoth.
I can’t unsee what we’re dealing with every time I look past the orange fur and white scruff of Bruce’s lazy face.
One claw is over four inches long and sharp as a thug’s stiletto knife.
Hell, I’d rather run into a big-city thug than Bruce on any dark night.
Probably would’ve been better off colliding with a man in a knife fight than crashing into Willow Macklin, too.
No denying she’s got me knotted up in ways I haven’t been for years.
My back still feels blistered from her hot, tight body pressed against me on the four-wheeler.
And dummy me just keeps getting in deeper with every glance, holding her like I did in the basement, and telling myself it was just for her comfort.
Yeah, bull.
My heart might be bursting with empathy, but my dick has an appetite.
I have to stretch my hands high over my head, flexing long and hard, ignoring the pulsating agony below my belt. I have to avoid the devil on my shoulder, the darker side of my conscience who keeps whispering how good it’d feel to pin this woman up against the nearest wall, own her lips long and hard, and then take everything else she’s got.
Fuck.
No, I can’t s
top looking at her.
Not when the simple act of shaking her hand and hugging her left my senses reeling. Her sun-kissed skin is too soft and her sea-blue eyes quench my thirst the longer I stare, and I want to touch more of it.
More of her.
Reason number one hundred why I’ve lost my shit, every last marble gone.
When they wrap me up in a straitjacket and bar the door, I think I’ll have Willow’s name on my lips.
Snarling, I push off the doorframe and pull the extension ladder off the hooks on the wall, remembering what I came here to do.
My girls are gonna get the shock of their lives, but from a safe distance.
Just because I’m a crazy man now doesn’t mean I’m stupid.
Thankfully, the barn has a second story loft with an outside door, but we’ll need the ladder to get up there. Because my girls are adventurous, I always keep it in the storage shed. Safely out of reach and far away from the barn.
I haul the ladder out and bring it to the side of the barn, then extend it up to the platform for the door and secure it to the ground before walking back to the house. The girls and Willow are waiting near the sliding glass door with bated breath.
After Sawyer’s wipeout earlier and their happy rush over learning we’ve got an animal, I’ve decided we’ll go see Bruce before supper.
As if I’d have any luck getting them to do anything else when they’re this keyed up.
“Dad, Dad, are we ready?” Sawyer asks, giving me bulging eyes straight out of a cartoon and teething her lip.
Avery has her hands clutched to her chest like she might fall over, a hopeful expression filling her face. She’s trembling.
It’s hard as hell not to burst out laughing.
They’re both animal crazy to their souls, but I appreciate how their giddiness leaves me with a cute moment I’ll never forget.
The older they get, the more I realize how precious they are and how fast they’ll grow up.
“Almost ready, girls. But first, before we go to the barn, we need to have a talk,” I say, folding my arms.
“Why?” Sawyer asks, her smile sinking. “We’ll be so good to the kitty. You know we will! We’ve been around so many farm cats at Uncle Hank’s.”
Smiling, I kneel down in front of them, unsure how to begin.
“Well, this is a very special cat. An insanely rare cat who needs to be loved a certain way.”
“Bruce!” Avery gushes. “His name is Bruce, Daddy...isn’t it?” Eyes full of worship, she looks at Willow like she just hung the moon and the stars.
My eyes flit to my annoyingly sexy guest. She blushes.
I should’ve known she’d tell them something while I spent ten minutes rummaging around with the ladder.
Willow nods, still looking at me, her eyes lit like stars.
The girls are damn near glued to her.
Christ.
The fact that they already adore her this much is even scarier than what her fuck-hot looks do to me. And I’m already bracing for impact, knowing it’ll just get worse after the twins get one good look at the biggest surprise of their lives.
“There are rules when it comes to Bruce,” I say, my voice on full dad-tone. “Whenever you want to see him, you have to promise me you’re gonna follow them to the letter of the law. Okay, kidlets?”
“Yeah, sure! But...but why?” Sawyer asks, tilting her head. “Is he like one of those kitties with no hair so you have to be careful how you pet him or something? Is that why he’s in the barn?”
Willow and I share another slow, uncertain look. I clear my throat.
“He has fur,” I say.
“Oh, good! Those Sphynx cats scare me,” Avery says, hugging her arms around her. “What color is he?”
Damn.
No way to answer that without giving too much away.
“Look, before I answer any more questions, you both have to pinky swear that you aren’t going to tell anyone about this cat. You’ll want to when you see him, but you can’t. Not even Uncle Hank. Promise us both, me and Willow.”
My dad game is stronger than it’s ever been today.
They both know the pinky swear is sacrosanct.
Frowning, the girls look at each other, shrug, then look at me and nod.
“Okay, Dad. We’ll do it,” Avery says first.
“Yeah, pinky swear!” Sawyer chimes in.
“And you also have to follow every single rule Willow and I put in place. No buts, no exceptions, and no complaining.”
Again, they look at each other with a weight I only see when they’re worried, which means it’s sinking in.
Good.
They silently whisper their agreement before they both look at me and nod several times.
Now the moment of truth.
I hold up my hand for a pinky swear. It’s a thing we’ve done occasionally for years, and they’ve never broken a pinky promise.
Someday when they’re older and trying to stay out past curfew with boys, they’ll think it’s too corny to work, but that day isn’t today. One at a time, they hook their pinky fingers with mine, and then with Willow.
“All right, now for the ground rules. No messing around the barn. Ever. Not without Willow or I present. And when I say none, I mean it, girls. You can’t go within ten feet of the barn without us. If I catch you, you’ll be grounded for life, and that’ll be pretty miserable for everyone, so...don’t do it.”
They look at each other gravely again, and then their gazes go to Willow.
“You heard the man, kids.” She nods, her mouth pulled into a tight line even though she’s trying to smile. “Forever.”
They both sigh and slowly bob their heads.
It’s now or never.
“Okay, hold on to Willow, please. We’re going for a walk.” I stand up straight as I slide open the door and lead them outside.
They each grab hold of Willow’s hands—one more precaution so she can jerk them back if they can’t contain themselves—and the four of us walk to the barn.
I head for where I’d put the ladder and step on it, testing its grip, before looking back at them.
“Heads-up, I’ll be putting this ladder away the instant we all climb down. No one except me is allowed to haul it out here. Understood?”
“Gosh, Dad, it’s a cat! Not some kinda wild beast,” Sawyer says, rolling her eyes.
I hide a grin, loving how wrong she’s about to be.
Willow leans down and gently bumps her head against the side of Sawyer’s. “He’s a very special cat, remember? Please be patient. This safety talk will make a lot more sense soon.”
“Is he like...priceless or something?” Avery asks, her eyes flitting around. “A rare breed like a Burmese or Savannah cat?”
“Yes,” Willow answers quickly.
I look at her. “I’ll go on up first, open the door, then you can send them up one at a time, okay?”
The girls are good climbers and always safe with heights, so I’m not worried about them finding their way up to the loft.
“Okay. Ready when you are, big daddy,” Willow says eagerly.
I climb the ladder and open the door, reminding myself that I need to put a padlock up here for good measure. Sawyer follows me up first, enters, and I tell her to stand next to the wall. Then it’s Avery’s turn, and Willow comes last.
The loft space covers about three-fourths of the barn. I know the perfect spot where they’ll be able to see Bruce, even if he’s tucked inside the trailer.
The railing is almost up to their shoulders, so there’s no chance of anyone tumbling over the edge.
My gaze meets Willow’s, and the way she grins turns my blood molten.
“This way, ladies,” I say, ripping my eyes away.
We finally reach the railing and I hold the girls tight, pointing down. “Go on. Be very quiet. Take a nice, long look.”
At first sight of the tiger, the girls freeze, tensing in my arms.
Their little
chins fall, awestruck wonder shining on their faces.
“Dad. That’s...that’s not a cat,” Sawyer whispers, gawking at Bruce in disbelief. “Dad, that’s a—”
“Shhh. I know, baby. Believe me, I know.”
Avery trembles, so fixated on seeing Bruce that she’s speechless.
As if the king below knows he has an audience, his tail twitches, slapping the hay where he’s sprawled out in a huge orange-and-black heap. A muffled snort billows out of him, just loud enough for us to hear.
Sawyer grips my forearm and squeezes for dear life, wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
I’d better give them fair warning.
“Listen, girls, he’s only with us for a short time. Enjoy it while you can. I’m helping Willow find him a new home.”
“W-why?” Avery stammers.
She never takes her eyes off the otherworldly cat tucked in the straw, his huge green-gold eyes half lidded.
“He couldn’t stay at his old place.” Searching for an excuse, I add, “This big old barn your grandfather built is the only one in the area secure enough to hold him. We’re lucky he’s here, and so is he.”
“Oh, Daddy. Were they mean to him?” Avery asks, her voice hitching. She looks at Willow. “At his old home, I mean?”
Nothing gets past my little detective.
My throat tightens.
“Yes,” Willow says softly. “It just...it wasn’t a good fit. He deserves a better home.”
At the sound of her voice, despite the fact that she’d whispered, Bruce lifts his head, his eyes peeling wide open. The girls stiffen in my arms, their breath stuck to their lungs.
Then the furry hulk lets out a bellowing yawn, followed by a low growl, tilting his head up to watch us.
“Dad...is he mad that we’re looking at him?” Sawyer asks nervously.
“Nope. That’s his happy sound. It means he’s really content,” Willow answers sweetly, just as Bruce settles his head on his paws again and goes back to sleep. “He likes it here. He’s very comfortable.”
“But he’s a wild animal,” I remind them.
I can’t let Willow’s gentle giant talk go to their heads.
“Why can’t we tell anyone?” Avery twists to look at me. “Why the big secret?”
My jaw clenches.