by Snow, Nicole
“I might someday,” Sawyer says with a wavering smile. “I’m gonna keep it beside my bed for now, so I can think about him and you every night.”
“I like that idea,” I tell her. Then, looking at Grady, I say, “If it’s all right with your dad, I’ll take you to the barn so you can have one more quick look. It’ll only be five minutes.”
Grady keeps his gaze averted, but nods.
“That’s fine, I guess, if you hurry.”
I lead them outside then, very deliberately keeping my eyes on the barn, fighting the urge to look back.
Because if I do, if I see his sad, hard, hangdog face one more time...
No.
Just no.
I can’t let it end like this, but it’s already dying, and it’s a slow acid drip on my soul.
It doesn’t take long for the girls to wave Bruce farewell behind the chain-link mesh. He even stands up, licks his chops, and shows off his princely coat of tangerine cut with fierce black zigzags.
The cat lets out a final loud rolling purr for them that they love.
If I had my head on straight, this is a moment I’d kill to capture for research, a raging question in the interspecies emotional IQ of Bengal tigers.
Instead, I’m so effing shredded it’s hard to even stand.
But their smiles make me feel so much better, even as a hot tear races down my cheek, and they’re far more agreeable about going to Joyce’s when we return to the house. They head upstairs to pack their bags.
Alone again, Grady shakes his head and shrugs.
“Thanks. Those plaques are a hell of a nice touch. Really thoughtful,” he says.
It’s not my place, but I can’t help what comes pouring out.
“Look, I know you’re just trying to protect them, Grady, but I wish you’d realize...there are some things not even you can protect them from. Saying goodbye is one of those things. It’s a part of life. And they just did it without hurting a hair on their heads. They’ll have a new memory to cherish, even if they’re sad right now.”
“Maybe so. There are some things I don’t want them exposed to, and that’s how it’s gonna stay,” he says firmly.
His dark-brown eyes cut me so deep, but I’m too proud and too stubborn to let him see me cry over losing him.
“I know. I understand. I just think learning how to cope, how to deal with things, is better than avoiding them.” I step around him. “I’ll go see if they need any help packing.”
Joyce arrives a short time later, and though I hadn’t seen her since that first day they came home, she’s as friendly as ever, bubbly as if we’re long-lost friends.
I assure her the head lice panic ended without issue, and I hold on to each girl a little longer than I normally would when I hug them bye.
Joyce’s car is barely out of sight when Faulk arrives, closely followed by Drake, Hank, Weston, and Ridge. His butler—or valet as he calls him—Tobin, is also along for the ride. To my surprise, Tory, Bella, and Grace are there with their husbands, as well as Roberta, Hank’s girlfriend.
“What’s this?” Grady booms behind me, coming outside.
“You called the cavalry, man, so we came in force,” Ridge says with his billion-dollar movie-star smile. “More hands on deck than you could need, and let’s hope it’s more than enough.”
They congregate in the kitchen like it’s a makeshift war room. Tobin starts brewing coffee. The women try to make pleasant conversation, but I mostly just nod and mutter a few words.
I’m sick with nerves.
Everyone here is now a part of my mess.
I have to see this through.
18
Wrapped in a Woman’s Hide (Grady)
I can tell Willow’s overwhelmed by all the people in the room, and though I want to tell her none of them would have it any other way—that’s how we roll in Dallas when someone’s in need—I hold my tongue.
This whole fucked up escapade made me take a hard look at my life, at everything I’ve lost, and might like to recapture again.
Someday.
That thought lingers in my gut as I glance at the women in the room. All wives and mothers now happily married to my best friends. Men I appreciate and feel damn proud to have standing by my side in any conflict, especially this one.
After arriving home from the bar last night, I talked to Faulk. We mapped out the plan we’ll be sharing with everyone this morning.
“We’re all here and caffeinated, Grady,” Faulk says, nudging my side as he takes a loud slurp of coffee. “Go ahead.”
The room grows quiet.
I look at Willow for the briefest moment, wondering when I’ll ever be ready to let love into my life again.
Real love.
Lasting love.
Sweet and tender and intense-as-hell passion.
Watching her give the girls those plaques this morning and seeing their reactions made me wish the answer was now.
And a deep, aching part of me wishes it was with her.
Taking a deep breath, I give her a nod and start slowly.
“Well, as you all know, there’s a big-ass tiger in my barn who’d be dead if it wasn’t for Willow Macklin. The Exotic Plains Rescue in Minot is bad news and it’s been confirmed—” I pause, glancing at Drake. “The people who own the place have sent employees, goons, whatever you want to call them, to Dallas to investigate the tiger sighting that went viral on Facebook. They’re trying to beat the Feds here, who could come swarming in any time, which means getting Bruce out of here is gonna be tight. But we need to move like lightning because once the FBI follows up on Exotic Plains for their black-market dealings, having an illegal tiger in my barn means very bad shit for me, my girls, and the town.”
Willow frowns at me. I wish I’d given her the crib notes before my big briefing. I could’ve last night, but I knew where that would lead.
Either her slapping me across the face or another romp in the basement, or hell, maybe both.
“So, tomorrow morning, we’re gonna have a convoy of half a dozen trucks and trailers leaving the area. Only one will have the tiger in the trailer; the rest will be decoys. Tobin and a couple other folks have generously decided to help with the diversion...”
I pause, looking at Ridge’s ice-cold butler, who nods. Tobin gives me a rare smirk, pushing his glasses up his aquiline nose.
Normally, I’d laugh. This guy is a human robot, and I think he’s actually having fun for once.
“Whoever’s looking to follow,” I continue, “or possibly trying to intercept the tiger, is going to have a hard time finding the right one. After all those trailers leave, the one that belongs to Exotic Plains will be delivered at the airstrip they use to transfer and sell exotics.”
“Yep, the FBI has the GPS coordinates for that runway,” Faulk says, holding up his phone. “And I just got confirmation they’ll be arriving both there and in Minot sometime tomorrow.”
I nod.
“That just about covers it,” I say, clapping my hands together for dismissal.
For the next few hours, we break up into small groups, mapping out routes that our decoys will take north, south, east, and west.
A couple will take off a few hours ahead at dawn and go through Montana and South Dakota, all the way to the Wyoming state line. The others will only drive an hour or so from town before turning around and doing it again.
Calls get made to more folks we can trust with trucks and trailers, using the recent rodeo and a stolen bull as a cover story. Joyce donates six more decoys herself, with her ranch hands driving them.
I’m thankful as hell I recruited Faulk last year to help scope out her cheating husband and bust his lying ass. What goes around comes around.
Only the folks gathered here right now know the entire truth. The others are just that willing to help with few questions.
That’s the kind of place Dallas is, small-town heart and soul, and one more reason why I’m proud to call it home.
&nbs
p; Shortly before noon, an old red car comes racing up the driveway, kicking up plumes of dust.
The late seventies, two-door Chevy Nova—complete with spoiler and mag wheels—looks like it’s in mint shape, only driven by a little old lady. And I know which little old lady as I glance at Tory Faulkner.
“Did you tell Granny Coffey you were here?”
“I, uh...I called her about an hour ago,” Tory says sheepishly. “Sorry, Grady. I didn’t tell her what we’re doing, just that there’s a crowd of us out here needing lunch. You know Granny—if there’s an army to be fed, she wants to be the cook.”
Faulk walks over and drapes an arm around his wife. “You let her pick the menu, right?”
Tory laughs. “No eggplant today, so don’t worry. I finally convinced her to take a break.”
I smile since I’ve heard about the infamous time when Granny’s hate affair with the purple vegetable blossomed into a deep affection in an enemies-to-lovers story for the ages. Faulk told me she’s damn near been eating eggplant dishes three times a week ever since.
Granny Coffey, once again dressed in her usual bright colors, hops out of the classic car as I walk out the front door.
“Hello, handsome!” she shouts. “I brought you all some vittles.” Her laughter rings in the air. “Send some muscles out here to help bring it in.”
The guys help me take care of that, and soon the women and Willow have the kitchen set up with a buffet of food that could feed half the town.
“How’d you manage all this in an hour, Granny?” I ask, while waiting for others to fill plates.
“Easy! I cleaned out the deli at the supermarket.” She slaps my arm. “The tough part was hauling it all home on my bike.”
I laugh, knowing she’s joking—I think?—and snag Willow’s arm.
“Have you had a chance to meet Granny Coffey?” I ask her.
Before Willow can answer, Granny says, “Of course we were introduced! And I told her I’m over the moon happy that you’ve got a good woman in your life. You were right about Miss Linda. She can’t hold a candle to this lady judging by everything Tory’s said. About time you got those little girls a new mama.”
Fuck. Me.
I should have known the can of drama-loving worms Granny would open. It’s her specialty.
Willow laughs and starts deflecting. “Oh, Granny, don’t you know Grady’s secretly been in love with you for years?”
Granny hoots with laughter and gives Willow a hug.
“You just stole my heart completely, you little firecracker.” Releasing Willow from a bear hug, Granny looks at me. “Go eat, both of you, before the food’s all gone!”
“Good idea, I’m starving.” I lay my hand on Willow’s back and steer her to the table. “Sorry about that,” I whisper once we’re out of hearing range.
Her eyes shimmer like blue seas with humor. “It’s fine. She’s adorable and I was prepared. The girls warned me with their Granny Coffey stories.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” I grumble.
I also have zero doubt that Granny’s statement won’t leave my mind anytime soon.
Especially her point about finding a mother for Sawyer and Avery.
Something they’ve never known.
Not with Brittany’s rapidly deteriorating condition when they were little.
I hadn’t realized how much they needed a grown woman in their life until this morning. Sure, they’ve always had Aunt Faye, but she’s more like a grandmother.
Willow handled their anger at me for sending them away with Joyce better than I had. Hell, she’d gotten me to change my mind about them giving Bruce one last sendoff, too. And there’s no denying it helped defuse a bad situation.
Her point about letting them live, good and bad, struck a vein. Ever since this morning, despite all this ruckus and planning, I’ve just been bleeding.
I’m sorry as shit I’ve been so dense for so long, and even sorrier to lose this beautiful, whip-smart, bright-eyed woman.
I never expected Hurricane Willow. Not falling for a desperate chick within weeks of meeting her.
And now here I am reexamining my life, doubting my hardass rules and everything I thought I had a grip on for years.
If that’s not the universe dropping me down on my head, I don’t know what the hell is.
Trying to shut down my thoughts, I fill my plate high with salads and a piece of a sub sandwich thicker than my arm, then try to focus on eating.
That’s nearly impossible with Willow next to me. She’s talking with the others in the room, men and women, and fits in too well.
My heart drops like a swung hammer, looking for something to smash, and missing.
I stare at my plate, ignoring the urge to look at her, knowing every lingering glance just cuts me in two.
Just like those tiger prints she made for the girls, she’s stamped her impression on my soul.
It’s gonna hurt like a knife to the eye when she’s gone, leaving behind memories that hollow me out.
* * *
With the meal over, I head outside, hoping fresh air will clear the storm in my head.
Hank is already there, smoking a cigarette around the corner, hiding it from his girlfriend.
“You know she can smell that crap on you, don’t you?”
He grins. “Yup! Roberta knows I smoke, we both just pretend she doesn’t.”
I raise a brow. “And you’re telling me that works?”
“Sure.” He plants a heel on the side of the house and leans back, taking a long drag before saying, “So what’s gonna happen to Miss Willow after all this?”
I heave out a sigh, remembering all the things she’d told me while lying next to me, lost in her own dreams and my arms after I pummeled her senseless.
“Guess she’ll go lookin’ for another zoologist job somewhere, or maybe go to Africa to meet up with her old man. He’s this big expert on rhinos and travels the world.”
“Wow, shit. That’s too bad, man.” Hank sniffs.
“Too bad?”
“Aw, yeah. I was hoping she’d come back to Dallas and hang around a while longer. Your girls love her like the dickens, and if you ask me...”
I wait as he takes another puff.
“And?” I urge when he doesn’t finish.
He drops his cigarette butt on the ground and stomps it out with the toe of his boot.
“Well, it’s not my place to say, but I’ve gotta tell you—I like the changes I’ve seen in you, bud, ever since she showed up. You’re almost the old Grady again.”
I’m human lead.
I look away, my jaw clenched.
Hank knows me too well. He was there for me and the girls forever. Still, it’s only been since the night we fixed the barn door together that I’ve realized how much I missed doing things with him.
“Hank—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Grady, just listen. Brittany was my sis and I loved her, but I won’t pretend to know what you all went through with her illness and death...other than knowing it was more than I’d have ever been capable of handling.” Hank lets out a long sigh. “Thing is, Grady, I love you, too. You’ll always be family. I’ve looked at you as my brother just as much as she was my sister, and it ain’t right not to see my brother happy again. You and Things One and Two together, I mean. I finally saw that happen the last few weeks, and hoped it’d continue.”
The rough smile that cuts across my face surprises me.
Hell, I think of him as a brother too, and I appreciate his honesty.
“She has her own life, Hank. One she had before she ever came here, and I have to let her return to it.” That’s part of what makes me feel so damn empty, so turned out.
Yeah, I know that’s my fault.
There’s nobody to blame but myself for getting this attached.
Willow stated right from the start that she’s only here for a short time. She said she wasn’t expecting anything more than I was willing to give before we’d
made love the first time.
Shrugging, I look at Hank. “Like it or not, it’s not up to me.”
“So you would like her to stay? Is that what I’m hearing?” His face goes tight as he tries to hide a smile.
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t be opposed,” I admit.
Hank slaps my shoulder so hard it catches me off guard. “Good man! I’m glad as hell you haven’t turned into some sorta Viking monk.”
“Viking monk?” I snort. “Nah, not really.”
Hank takes off his cowboy hat and puts it back on as he glances at the house. “Sooo, I have something else I need to ask you.”
I give him a side-eye. “What?”
“Can I, uh, show Granny Coffey the tiger? Just a little glimpse?”
“You told her about the tiger?” I bite off, giving him a dirty look.
He throws his hands in the air. “Aw, man, she overheard me and the girls at the rodeo whispering and wrangled the rest of it out of me! She won’t tell anyone. Honest.”
I shake my head so hard it might spin off before I calm down.
“I guess. She’s not as crazy as she seems when you get down to brass tacks,” I say. “Yeah, alright, she can see the damn tiger.”
“Sweet! I promise I won’t let her pull his tail,” Hank says, holding up his hands when he gets another look from me. “Dude, it’s just a joke. Can Willow come with us?”
I nod.
Giving Granny permission basically opens the floodgates. Her visit kicks off a small, steady flow of people following Willow into the barn, two at a time, to get a look at the beast who’s caused so much drama.
Something dawns on me then.
Once Willow exits the barn for the last time, I ask, “How’d you get those paw prints for the girls, anyway?”
She cocks her head. “It was just flour, salt, and water, mixed into a dough. Then I baked them until they were hard.”
“No, I mean how did you get the paw print in the dough?”