The Hero I Need: A Small Town Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Half an hour later, after we’ve both changed our clothes, we leave for the bar.

  “What’s going on, Grady? What did Faulk say?” she asks as soon as we’re on the road.

  “Our time’s up. We have to get Bruce out of here ASAP,” I answer, holding no punches. “The Fosses are closing down those accounts in your name and your dad’s. Plus, there’s some real unusual crap happening at Exotic Plains.”

  “Define unusual?”

  “He didn’t go into a deep dive on details, but we’ll meet tomorrow morning to hash it all out. The bottom line is, we have to fucking move.”

  “Then why are we going to the bar?”

  Good question.

  My mind is a chaotic stampede. Fifty unruly thoughts hoofing it in different directions, trying to figure out how I can save everybody’s skin.

  Willow. The girls. The Bobcat.

  Not to mention making sure the Fosses have their day in court, exposing their sins to the light of day.

  It doesn’t feel like we can win it all.

  I have to make us.

  There’s no other choice.

  “Grady?” She looks at me nervously.

  “We’re having dinner like I said. Also, I need to talk to Weston,” I answer, just as I’m able to rustle up a few of my loose ideas.

  “Weston? Why? Is it the truck?”

  “We’re calling in his help to take Bruce to Wyoming,” I say, nodding because it just makes sense.

  “I have to take Bruce to Wyoming,” she says, straightening in the seat. “I have to make sure it’s a good fit for him, once they call and say they’re ready for him.”

  “Whether they’ve called or not is a moot point. We have to get him the hell out of my barn.” I huff out a breath. “The clock’s running out, Willow. I’m sorry. Faulk said the Feds will be opening an active case in Dallas soon. Could even be within a day or two. I have to think about my girls. I can’t have them in the middle of a fucking raid.”

  She opens her mouth again, but closes it, this sad frown weighing her sweet lips down.

  I hate this.

  I’m not even sure what else Faulk is planning.

  Still, I have to make sure there are safety measures in place for everyone.

  This whole thing has gotten way off the rails. It also proves how whacked-in-the-head stupid I’ve been.

  After Brittany’s death, I swore it would only be me and my girls.

  I’d never put them in danger.

  Not for money or fame or a stranded tiger attached to the most gorgeous, kindhearted woman who blew into my life.

  I keep my promises, no matter how much the toll costs in heartache.

  17

  Claws and Effect (Willow)

  Yes, I get what he’s saying.

  Yes, I agree.

  And a big fat hell yes to how much I hate knowing I brought this down on him.

  But at the same time, I can’t squelch the idea that he’s regretting things.

  Regretting me.

  So maybe I am, too, but only because there’s an open cut in my heart, and I bleed every time I glance at Grady’s face. Behind his chiseled, angry hero man mask, I sense the agony.

  The conflict.

  The fear.

  And the brute knowledge that I’m the person responsible.

  Ever since that last call from Faulk, it’s like he’s retreated deeper into himself and fortified his heart. A defense mechanism, just like how he was when I’d first arrived.

  He’s protecting himself as well as Sawyer and Avery. I don’t blame him one bit.

  My own grief isn’t his problem.

  Neither is the crazy notion that I...

  ...I don’t want to leave.

  God, I’ve been such a flaming idiot. Letting myself get so attached was stupid, leaving my heart ripe for the stabbing.

  Now, it’s time to pay the price.

  “I don’t need Weston to take us to Wyoming, you know,” I say, knowing my truck must be long fixed. “I can drive myself. I’ll leave tomorrow morning with Bruce, bright and early.”

  “In the stolen trailer and truck? Without backup?” Before I can respond, he continues. “Not gonna happen, darlin’. If the Feds don’t know about the truck and trailer, your old bosses do. They’ll all be out looking for it, and for you.”

  Crud.

  I didn’t think of that.

  “Does Weston have a trailer that’ll work?” I ask, still hating the idea.

  “No.” He pulls into the bar parking lot, which is nearly empty, and parks near the back. “He has a truck, and we’ll wrangle up a new trailer somewhere. Not Drake and Bella’s this time. I can’t be making their names mud if something goes haywire.”

  “Whose?” I ask as he opens his door.

  “Plenty of folks with trailers around here.” He climbs out and closes his door.

  I follow and meet him at the door to the bar, feeling like I’m wading through cement.

  “Don’t you think you’ve already involved enough people? It started out with just us, then Faulk and Weston, and Ridge and Dr. Walton, Drake and Hank, Bella and Tory and...Jesus. Why don’t you just post it on Facebook?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out.

  He jabs me with a wounded look.

  I grab his arm. “Oh, Grady, I’m sorry. I feel so guilty asking for so much from everyone. I just can’t stand to see anyone hurt or in trouble with the FB-freaking-I.”

  “Me either. I wish I’d been focused on that this whole time.” He opens the door and nods for me to enter ahead of him.

  His words sting because I know the distraction he means is us.

  What we’ve been doing every night.

  Every kiss that tasted like perfection and shredded my heart.

  Now, our love—did I really just think the dreaded l-word again?—is nothing but a ruthless liability.

  We sit at the bar in our encroaching misery.

  Weston is tending the place tonight and a young dark-haired woman waits on the few tables where a couple customers are seated. Grady talks to him about bar business for a while and orders us platters of chicken tenders with fries and coleslaw before he brings up Weston’s schedule.

  There’s a noticeable shift in their voices then. They go quieter, discussing who can cover the bar so Weston can help with another job over the next two days.

  “Sure, Uncle Grady.” Weston agrees with a slow, accepting smile before he even asks what the job is.

  He’s a young man in his mid-twenties or so with a muted sadness in his face that makes me wonder what put it there. The family resemblance is mostly in the face, the strong jawline, and the smile.

  Grady’s nephew has short sandy-blond hair and restless blue eyes that grow wide when his uncle tells him he’s just been drafted to drive me to Wyoming with Bruce.

  “Shit, the tiger?” he whispers, tilting his head.

  “The one and only,” Grady echoes.

  “Man, that’s a big job. I’m game to help out, but I’ve gotta ask...why me?”

  “Why not you, West?” Grady fires back, slapping a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re one hell of a mechanic, and you’ve been through some shit like the rest of my crew. Unlike them, you’re not tied down with a woman and kids—not yet.”

  “Lucky me. Winding up tiger meat because I haven’t tied the frigging knot.” Weston shrugs and gives back an aw-shucks grin. “When?”

  “You need to be at my place tomorrow morning for planning. Once I hear back from Faulk, we’ll have a more exact time to embark. In the meantime, I want you to make a list of everyone you know with an extra stock trailer who’d be open to renting it out. Ideally somebody who isn’t big into farming or the traveling rodeos so they don’t have any highway violations sticking around. Then we need another truck, a trailer, and somebody with a clean driving record who can keep their mouth shut if we pay ’em well and won’t mind playing decoy.”

  “D
ecoy?” Weston whispers.

  Grady just nods, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “You’ll see, my boy.”

  I look at Grady and blink at the decoy thing myself, wondering what in Hades he’s plotting.

  Whatever it is, I know what I have to do.

  Once I get Bruce settled in Wyoming, I need to head home. Back to California.

  I’ve caused enough havoc for this lifetime here in North Dakota.

  I thought I’d known exactly what I’d wanted when I came here, but the truth is, what I wanted doesn’t even exist. It was a fantasy.

  My father warned me, but I’d been too pigheaded to listen.

  Big cats need help surviving in this world, in the wild against poachers as much as they need a hand against other evildoers in captivity.

  I hadn’t taken any of that into account in my fantasy world.

  I’d been too focused on myself. On the prestige I’d gain rather than thinking about what the animals needed.

  Grady and Weston are still talking, but I’m not listening.

  Instead, I’m thinking about how much my life has changed forever over the past month. Is this what it’s like to grow up?

  My father always said that had to happen before I’d figure out what I wanted out of life.

  Like every headstrong girl with a shiny new college degree, I hadn’t listened.

  I thought I was grown-up as soon as I graduated.

  Surprise—I was wrong.

  And maybe I still am because I’m not sure responsible adults run around stealing tigers in distress and dumping them in the laps of handsome small-town single dads.

  The ride home from the bar is silent for good reason.

  We both know things have changed.

  I can’t help wondering what would’ve happened if Grady and I met under different circumstances, without Bruce in the picture.

  Would there still be this magnetic pull?

  Would I have ever pierced his gunmetal heart?

  I’ll never know.

  I’ll never know a lot of things about the two of us, because there won’t be a lasting us to worry about soon.

  As he parks the truck and turns if off at his house, Grady says, “I’m gonna call Joyce and ask if the girls can stay with her for a few days. It’ll be easier on them when you and Bruce leave if they aren’t around.”

  I nod, despite my heart turning inside out.

  “Sorry. I need to protect them.” He sucks in a slow breath. “From everything I can, you understand. So I’d appreciate it if you just...if you wouldn’t make saying good-bye a big deal.”

  A suffocating pain fills my chest like an angry fist gripping my heart. I can’t help the dagger look I throw his way.

  “Sure. Whatever.” I throw the door open and climb out. “I’m going to check on Bruce. ’Night.”

  “Goodni—”

  I barely hear his response because I shut the door before hearing the last syllable.

  My eyes burn like lit coals, this bleary veil across my vision as I walk to the barn.

  Bruce is blissfully sleeping, and as I sit on the edge of the wall, looking at him, visions of the past few weeks crisscross my mind.

  How excited Sawyer and Avery were that they had a huge cat living in the barn. The awe on their faces when they saw Bruce for the very first time, and the many laughs they’ve given me.

  I’m going to miss them like hell, but even worse, I know they’ll miss me.

  Remembering an art project from high school, I leave the barn and go to the kitchen. There, I mix together salt, flour, and water into a thick dough and carry it back outside to the barn.

  After forming two large heart shapes from the dough, I carefully step into the pen.

  “Hey, Brucey,” I say, watching closely as I walk toward him. “Big day coming up, so you’re smart to rest up. I know I’m breaking every rule in the zoologist’s handbook by doing this, but...I need your help. Avery and Sawyer need a goodbye present before we leave. Okay?”

  He opens his eyes and blinks at me curiously, and for a second I hesitate.

  As comfortable as I am around him, I respect the fact that he’s a colossal animal with untamable instincts. The tiger is Mother Nature’s sledgehammer wrapped in a fashion mogul’s dream.

  He’s lying near the trailer, front paw stretched out in front of him, making this adorable snorty sound as I approach. His huge head lolls back, bored by my presence.

  “Nice and easy. I’m just going to borrow a paw and press it into this clay...”

  He lets out one of his low purring growls, as if to say, make it snappy. Don’t keep me here all day

  Stepping closer, I kneel down, nervous in my own right, but smiling so he won’t pick up on my jitters.

  Slowly, I reach out and touch one of his paws.

  “Obviously we’ll use your good paw, all right? Not the one that’s been healing.”

  He lays his head back down with a groan.

  “So generous, big dude.” I slide one of the heart-shaped clumps of dough under his paw and press down for a few seconds, leaving an impression. Then I repeat it with the second one, talking to him softly the entire time, murmuring little things about how much he’ll love his new home at Let’s Roar.

  I’m a blubbering mess by the end of it.

  Careful not to disturb the imprints, I stand, wipe my tears, and thank him before leaving the barn again. In the house, I use a toothpick to carve a huge B and the date on the back of the dough, and then put both prints in the oven to harden.

  Grady is nowhere in sight, and that’s a good thing.

  So I take a shower, pack my bags, and simply kill time stress-cleaning the kitchen and organizing odds and ends until the gifts are fully baked.

  I pull them out of the oven when the timer goes off and put them in my room only a minute before the front door opens and the girls burst in, full of loud giggles and rodeo stories.

  I can’t help but smile hearing about Uncle Hank getting chucked off a mechanical bull in a contest, and then Granny Coffey beating every man, woman, and child for the prize.

  Grady comes upstairs from the basement and barely looks at me as he gestures for Hank to follow him outside.

  The girls continue chattering about the rodeo as I help them settle down for bed.

  It’s not until she’s tucked into her sheets that Sawyer yawns and asks, “Hey, is Dad still outside talking to Uncle Hank?”

  I pause, trying not to let my inner sad face slip out.

  “I guess so, but I’m sure he’ll be up to say good night as soon as Hank leaves.”

  “Okay! ’Night, Willow.”

  My eyes sting, knowing this will be the last time I tuck them in. I lean down and kiss her forehead. “’Night, Sawyer.”

  I repeat the same heart-wrenching goodbye they aren’t even aware of in Avery’s room. After kissing her on the forehead, I leave and go back down to my room.

  I get busy writing out notes to go with the paw print plaques.

  When I finally crash, sleep doesn’t come easily.

  I’m ping-ponged between sweet dreams that wake me up with a burning need, and nightmares that leave me trapped with my heart pounding and tears in my eyes.

  I’m glad when morning arrives, even if it comes with a hangover-like headache.

  Ugh.

  I’ve overslept, too. It’s past seven o’clock. I take a quick shower and head out to see something I haven’t witnessed before.

  The girls, balking at Grady telling them they need to stay with Joyce for a few days.

  He refuses to tell them the real reason—because I’m leaving and taking Bruce with me.

  The tension between the three of them rises like hot steam in the room.

  Unable to take it, I step up behind the girls and lay a hand on each of their shoulders.

  “Hey, ladies, your dad isn’t trying to be mean,” I say softly. “He just needs some time to take care of a few things with me and we’ll be abl
e to do that faster when he doesn’t have to worry about you two.”

  “But you’re here, Willow, so why do we have to leave?” Avery asks with a pout.

  “Because he might need my help,” I say.

  “This is about Bruce, isn’t it? You’re taking him somewhere!” Sawyer glares at Grady, folding her small arms.

  They’re too smart.

  They know when they’re being lied to.

  My heart cracks and I wish I hadn’t said anything.

  Grady looks at me then, shaking his head.

  “Sawyer’s right. This is about Bruce,” he begins, his brown eyes glued to mine. “He’s going to a big cat sanctuary and it’ll be easier if you aren’t here in case anything happens while he’s being loaded. We can’t keep him here forever and you two are old enough to know it.”

  “You...you weren’t even going to let us say goodbye, Daddy?” Avery asks, tears brimming in her eyes.

  “That’s not fair, Dad!” Sawyer snaps. “Not fair at all.”

  Grady’s face might as well be made of stone.

  There’s nothing soft about it when he looks at them.

  “There isn’t time. We need to get moving in the next hour or two and sort this out. It’s for his own good and sometimes...hell. Life just isn’t fair, girls,” he says, a pain in his voice he can’t hide.

  Now it’s my turn to tear up. I whirl around, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve.

  I was going to leave the plaques and notes for them to find in their rooms, but suddenly I’m changing my mind.

  “Hang on, guys. I have something for you. I’ll be right back.”

  Leaving the letters I’d written to both of them in my room, because those are my final farewell, I carry the two plaques back into the kitchen.

  “Here you go. I made these for both of you last night,” I whisper, laying them out on the table.

  They’re terribly simple, just bone-white, heart-shaped pieces of homemade clay with Bruce’s print embedded in the center.

  But the way the girls ooh and ahhh, anyone would think I just handed them the crown jewels.

  “Willow, thank you. Thank you! This is the most precious thing ever,” Avery gushes, her tears turning to diamond trails rolling down her cheeks.

  “Glad you like it, munchkin. I left them white so you can paint them if you want. Just be very careful. You could even have your dad help shellac them and plant them outside. Right by the tiger lilies we rescued.”