Fuck.
It’s been years since I felt a young woman’s soft, bare skin, and it’s not something I need now.
I’ve turned down my fair share of offers from women at the bar for a reason. Between the girls and work, I don’t have time for dating or anything else.
My attention swings back to the mess I’ve willingly stepped in when the vet and Willow start talking about drawing Bruce’s blood. It sounds like the cat has been lethargic lately, and the vet wants to run some tests to see if he’s been drugged.
My damn mind is blown, but I stay and help out where I can.
Before he takes his leave, Doc Walton gives instructions for how long Bruce should stay sedated, what to watch for when he starts coming around, and promises he’ll be in contact with the blood work results.
After he drives away, Willow and I go in the house.
“There’s something else you should see. Hold on,” she says, running off to her room and returning a minute later.
I recognize the stolen computer in her hands. It’s locked, without a password, and I’m afraid we’ll trip some security measure that deletes data if we try to just guess.
“I’ll have Faulk take a look,” I say. “If he can’t break into it, he’ll know someone who can.”
“Thanks. When?” she asks, seemingly more anxious than before the vet’s visit. “We have to get to the bottom of this before they find me.”
I’m well aware.
“I’ll call him again—” I stop mid-sentence.
An unexpected popping noise catches my attention. My ears perk, straining to listen, hoping I just imagined it.
“Grady? Was that a car door?” she asks, her eyes widening.
“Yeah. Shit!” I take off and make it as far as the living room when the door flies open.
Sawyer and Avery come bounding through it, all whipping hair and smiles that’d be as heartwarming as ever—if only I wasn’t completely fucking smashed over the head right now.
Act normal.
It’s my only shot.
At least I’m honestly excited to see them and catch them both in big hugs before asking, “What are you two doing home early?”
“We live here, Dad!” Sawyer says in her usual sassy, yet adorable way. “Did you already forget?”
“Hm. Now that you mention it, I do remember having a couple munchkins boarding here,” I tease, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Joyce had to pick us up,” Avery says, ever the quieter and more serious twin.
Still hugging one with each arm, I ask, “Where is she? Where’s your stuff?”
“Right here, papa bear!” Joyce sings, walking inside. “Their luggage is on the porch, where it needs to stay for now. The camp called me to pick them up this morning, a day early. I texted but you must’ve been busy.”
Yeah, hell, busy might be the understatement of the year.
“Why’s that? Was there a problem?” I ask. I don’t understand why they’re home a day early.
“Sure was. Head lice epidemic at camp. Everyone had to leave early.” She’s an older woman, but fit for her age, and she shrugs her trim shoulders. “They’ve been treated, but they need to be checked daily. So if you see a bug or nit on these two angels, be sure to shampoo them again. All their stuff should be washed before it comes in the house, too.”
“Head lice?” I echo, holding in a groan.
When it rains, it fucking pours.
A quiver rips up my spine. I try to resist the sudden urge to scratch at my tingling head like a madman.
Joyce just grimaces and nods, scrunching up her nose.
Can things even get more complicated?
I shouldn’t ask.
Because a second later, Sawyer looks over my shoulder at Willow, blinking several times before she drops an atomic bomb. “Hey, Dad...who’s she?”
5
Tiger’s Den (Willow)
I bite my bottom lip at the way Grady’s entire being quivers.
He’s trying to put on a brave face and hide it, but it’s too freaking late. The poor guy’s out of his element.
Head lice is no laughing matter, but it’s not the end of the world.
I had it once as a kid when my entire school came down with a bad case of creepy crawlies. Some rancid-smelling shampoo and a fine-toothed comb made quick work of it.
His daughters are adorable, though, and not quite identical like I expected. One’s a little taller, and they both have long dark hair, the same shade as his.
For some crazy reason, I keep glancing at the woman by the door, wondering who she is.
With short dark hair cut fashionably and lines around her eyes, the woman must be in her fifties. I can’t assume she’s a girlfriend unless Grady’s tastes run much older, but who knows.
Who cares.
I’m not here to wonder about the women in his life, right?
Especially when I’ve got a bashful little face staring at me over her father’s shoulder, blinking like she isn’t sure if I’m a ghost.
“Hey, Dad...who’s she?” the kid asks.
Delightful.
Grady lets go of his girls and slowly turns, staring at me with the same look a deer gives a rapidly approaching pickup truck.
Inwardly, I flinch, but I pull up a cheery smile for the girls and the strange woman staring at me.
“This is, uh—”
“Willow,” I prompt, when I’m sure he can’t remember my name in his panic.
“Yeah, Willow, she’s here for...” Grady clears his throat, his eyes searching mine.
Don’t worry, big guy. I’ve got you covered.
“Saving your lives! From messes, I mean. I cleaned this whole floor of the house, but I wasn’t sure where to put your clothes,” I say, dredging up my best excuse.
I certainly can’t fess up to the fact that I’ve brought a flipping tiger onto their farm and I’m basically a fugitive at this point.
Pointing to the piles of clothes still on the coffee table, I smile again. “I wasn’t sure what belongs to you girls. Care to help a nanny out?”
“Nanny?” The twins say it simultaneously.
They stare at me, taking me in, then look at their father like they aren’t sure.
Oof.
Tough crowd.
Not that I can blame them.
I’d be doing the same thing if I was ten years old and dear old Dad brought a total stranger into the house without any warning.
“Hello, Willow,” the older woman cuts in. “I’m Joyce, a good friend of Grady’s. I’m so glad he finally listened and hired a nanny while Faye left town! Hope the head lice thing won’t scare you off. This is out of the ordinary. We all take good care of these two little angels. Lord knows he needs the help sometimes, right, papa bear?”
Nanny? Oh, God, I said it, didn’t I?
Now I’m the one who’s tongue-tied, and I’m also curious why he needs so much help.
Grady gives his friend a pained smile. “The day I turn down an extra pair of hands, you’re welcome to slap me upside the head, Joyce.”
“Well, your load’s already lighter. My hairdresser met me at my place and treated the girls as soon as I picked them up this morning. I left you enough shampoo in a bag on the porch for another round. You’re welcome.” Joyce beams another pearl-white smile around the room.