The Hero I Need by Nicole Snow
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 stop 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.
This is what I was afraid of.
Before I have a chance to get tongue-tied, Willow lays one hand on Avery’s shoulder—and the other on mine.
“It’s for his safety. He could get agitated if too many people start coming out to see him, and you know this is a town where nobody’s business stays secret for long,” Willow says gently. “And anyone who hears about him...well, they’ll react just like you two did. They’ll be beating down the doors to this barn for a look. It’s not every day you find out there’s a tiger next door, right?”
Slowly, their little heads nod, and I do too.
Damn good answer.
I’m grateful she saved me some explaining.
“So, um, Willow...are you our nanny or not? Are you actually a zookeeper?” Sawyer asks, always obsessed with finding out everything right down to the smallest detail.
My girls could run circles around Holmes and Watson.
And are Willow’s eyes twinkling or am I just drunk on adrenaline?
“Yes, that’s part of the deal,” she whispers. “Your father agreed to help me with Bruce, and I agreed to help him by taking care of you two troublemakers. Until we find a new home for Bruce, I’m your nanny.”
We stand there for some time with the girls rushing out questions, their excitement growing as Willow answers kindly and patiently.
Bruce snores on below. I’m relieved to find out their high-pitched little girl voices don’t keep him up.
When Willow admits she’s a zoologist, the animal questions come flying fast and furious.
How old is he?
What does he eat?
Why are tigers striped?
Was he born in the wild?
How’d you get him here?
Does he have cubs?
The whip-fast Q & A session makes my brain whirl in a mini tiger education frenzy. Willow takes it in stride, full of wisdom and saintly smiles.
Eventually, after a good half hour or more, I say it’s time to leave.
Naturally, the girls don’t want to go, but they’ll do anything for another chance to see him, so they agree—after I pinky swear we’ll be back a few more times before Bruce leaves.
“I’m gonna write a poem about him!” Avery hollers as soon as we’re outside and on the ground again. “Oh! And I wanna draw pictures. I’ll use the fancy crayons you got me for school, Daddy.” Glancing up at me as we walk to the door, she adds, “But I’ll only show it to you and Willow. Promise.”
“And me,” Sawyer says, sticking her tongue out.
“And you,” Avery agrees with a groan.
We all share a laugh.
“Time for supper,” she says. “What’s everybody hungry for?”
I lower the ladder. “How about burgers, fries, and milkshakes? Dinner out sounds good after the busy day we’ve had. Don’t think anybody feels up to cooking after all that excitement.”
The girls cheer, and Willow smiles.
“You’re sure about eating out?” she asks.
I fold up the ladder to start carrying it to the shed. “Yeah, gotta fuel up the truck anyway. Plus, watching that tiger get his fill of beef makes me jealous. I could use a good burger.”
She laughs. “Oh, really? Or are you just that afraid of my cooking? I wasn’t serious about the food poisoning, Grady.”
“Nah.” I lift a brow at her. “You’ll get your chance to wow us another night.”
She laughs harder, but steers the girls to the house. “Come on, let’s go wash up so we can sink our teeth into burgers and fries.”
“And milkshakes—don’t forget the best part!” Avery adds. “The strawberry shakes are awesomesauce.”
A short time later, we’re on our way to town in my truck. Sawyer pulls up the playlist on her phone, and she, Avery, and Willow waste no time singing to the music.
Sounds like some modern bubblegum fluff piece about finding love in a gingerbread house by Milah Holly.
Damn if I don’t love how they all giggle, cracking up as they try to keep up with the jaunty beat, losing it several times when Avery messes up the lyrics. Looks like I’m in for an encore, too, because Sawyer finds another song the instant the first one finishes, and the singing starts all over again.
I’m back in a war zone—only this time I’m surrounded by loud, happy girls punch-drunk on their own music mistakes.
It hurts in the best way to have their smiles circling me, though, and the music cut by messy laughter that makes it hard to focus on the road.
The fun continues as I pull into the gas station. Sawyer turns her phone off, and I can hear them giggling while I fuel up my ride and pay at the pump.
The local hamburger joint is only a couple blocks away, and it looks like the early supper rush is already over. I always get a nostalgic smile every time I step into this place. Hasn’t changed a bit since I was a kid.
Black-and-white-checkered linoleum plasters the floors, the booths are a worn mix of bright-red and licorice-black Naugahyde, and there’s floor to ceiling 1950’s memorabilia and photos decorating the walls.
A few of those pics show off Dallas in its old days, back when I was growing up here with my brother. Everybody who didn’t work for old man Jonah Reed and North Earhart Oil was a farmer then.
God help me, I take Willow’s hand, and she flashes me a smile that could own my soul.
Can’t resist the urge to point at the pics, giving her a quick history lesson on Dallas.
“What’s with all the cute little airplanes on the way in?” she asks, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
“This town staked its bread and butter on the oil business for a long while,” I tell her. “North Earhart Oil still signs a lot of paychecks to this day. That’s Earhart as in Amelia Earhart. The old man who founded the company swore she was a relative of his. Still a hotly debated subject, I’ve broken up more fights at the Bobcat than you’d believe over it.”
Willow laughs, her small round nose wrinkling.
“Darlin’, I’m serious. The only thing that’s bigger fighting words around here than town history after folks have knocked a few back are town legends. And that oil company’s given us plenty of both. The Larkins who own it these days are good people, though. Just like her Gramps, Bella Larkin makes sure a lot of that oil money goes to people who really need it here in town. Money doesn’t mean much like it does in some places. Rich or poor, we all take care of each other.”
Her fingers twine with mine, delivering an excited squeeze that says she approves of our old-fashioned ways. I pump her fingers back.
There’s nothing like an outsider’s appreciation to remind a man what makes our little town mean something.
She loves the rodeo images and a couple candid shots of wild cougars who’d tear into Dallas from the sticks most of all. No surprise.
A waitress finally guides us to a booth, where the girls settle in on one side, and Willow and I on the other. I’m not used to sharing a seat with anybody, not even with Aunt Faye.
I tell myself not to think about it.
Not to worry.
Not to wonder why it’s so damn difficult to release her hand.
“Gosh, Dad!” Sawyer says, her eyelids fluttering as she looks across the booth at us. “Were you...are you holding her hand? It’s like we’re a family or something.”
Oh, shit.
With my size in a small booth, it’s hard to scoot a couple inches away from Willow like she’s suddenly on fire, but Lord knows I try.
Yeah, I’m being ridiculous. But the kid popped me right between the eyes.
My insides flip in this odd way, and suddenly it feels like a feat of strength just to look Willow in the eyes.
“More like we’re a group of good friends going out for burgers and fries,” Willow says, glancing at me before grinning at the girls. “Kinda refreshing, honestly. I’ve been so busy I haven’t been out with friends like this forever.”
Slowly, I sigh and settle back in my seat, thanking my lucky stars this woman just bailed my ass out.
Again.
“Why not?” Sawyer asks.
“Oh, that’s how fieldwork goes. I’m still pretty fresh out of school, too. It’s a lot to take on.” Leaning across the table, she whispers, “Taking care of you know who.”
The girls cover their mouths and giggle at our shared secret. I’m grateful for her ability to take control of the situation, no matter what my daughters throw at her.
As I keep casting glances that last longer than they should at Willow Macklin, there’s no denying her talent.
Looks like tigers aren’t the only things she knows how to tame.
