I’m careful to leave out any mention of Exotic Plains or the nefarious crap, hiding it behind my smile.
“How old is he?” Sawyer asks.
“About fifteen, give or take a few months.”
“Is that old for a tiger? How long will he live?”
“Until he’s twenty-five or so, maybe close to thirty if he’s lucky. Hopefully he’ll wind up a big orange Methuselah,” I tell her.
“I hope so!” she throws back with a far-off smile.
I wish I had more than hope to cling to.
With a nice day like this, it’s easy to forget I have no clue where Bruce will end up or how comfortable he’ll be in a new home. Trying to make myself feel better about it, I explain how tigers in the wild only live to be twelve or so, but in captivity, where they have few natural threats and a regular diet and quality care, they can live twice as long.
Our tiger talk continues on the patio with Avery and Grady joining in.
The topic shifts from animals to Dallas life as we eat dinner, but there’s never a lull in the chatting or the easy laughs.
It still feels like a sauna outside, but there’s been a shift in the wind.
At first it felt like a heater blowing while we devoured the best marinated steaks, broccoli, and twice baked potatoes I think I’ve ever tasted. Now it’s turning dark and ominous.
Grady scans the horizon as we start clearing the patio table.
“Typical hot-ass day. I think the muggy weather’s brewing up a storm,” he says.
“A bad one?” Avery turns her concern-rippled face to me. “Will it hurt the flowers?”
“No, hun. Rain is good for them,” I assure her. “It has more oxygen than irrigation water, too, and releases all the nutrients the plants need.”
“Oh, all right! Let’s hope it’s a big rain then.” Back to her plucky self, she collects a few empty bowls and plates and carries them into the kitchen.
Inside, the girls continue helping with clean up and then with the laundry before they insist on a Yahtzee rematch. Can’t say I mind the excuse to have my eyes on something besides Grady.
The storm blows in during the game with loud thunder rattling the windows, and sweeping sword-like flashes of lightning. A cute weather guy with his hair styled on TV says it’s supposed to come in waves all night.
I’m thankful the house is safe and secure, and so is the barn.
I’ve been caught in monsoons and rainstorms in Africa that seemed like whole seas falling down, so I’m not overly concerned. A sturdy roof beats roughing it in a field tent any night.
“Look at that! Must be my lucky night,” I say after winning the second game in a row.
“Must be.” The heated look Grady aims my way sets my face on fire.
He’s a man of little innuendo but wow does he know how to use it.
Trying to hide how the rest of me sizzles, I say, “Or are you all just cheating so I can win?” I flash them a wink.
“Never,” Grady says.
“I’d never cheat!” Sawyer says, her head propped up on one hand.
“Nope,” Avery adds with a yawn.
His eyes turn to the kids and he slowly nods.
“I think all the hard work today has worn you two out,” Grady says, gathering up the dice in one hand. “Why don’t we call it a night? Sounds like a break in the storm and a good chance to get to sleep.”
No argument here.
Just, you know, so many butterflies exploding in my belly I feel like I’m riding a tsunami.
I box up the game and hold it out for him to drop the dice in before I stand.
Avery wraps her hands around my arms. “Will you help tuck me in with the new sheets, Willow? It’s always tough to get them just right when they’re fresh out of the dryer.”
“You bet,” I say, happy to buy my tingling body a few more minutes before Judgment Day with Grady.
All four of us head upstairs, Grady with Sawyer, who says she wants to talk to him alone.
Once Avery’s in her pj’s, and lying down in clean new sheets, I tuck the covers around her. “There you go, bed bug. Nice and comfy.”
She smiles and points to the nightstand beside her bed.
“Will you give me Bobbie? It’s a stormy night.”
“Bobbie?”
She gestures at the drawer. “I like to sleep with him on nights like this. It’s a habit.”
I open the drawer and find a large purple beanbag bobcat.
It makes me grin instantly. I bet this toy has something to do with Grady’s bar and that winking sign that guided me to safety the first night I came stumbling into his life. Avery settles in with the stuffed cat in her arms and she’s dozing off by the time I leave.
Grady passes by, entering the room, and I go into Sawyer’s to say good night to her.
I smile again, this time wider, when I see an identical purple bobcat tucked against her pillow.
Minutes later, Grady and I meet in the hall, pulling each bedroom door closed.
The house is freakishly still now.
The electricity outside feels minuscule compared to the invisible tension crackling across the hall between us.
Even every breath feels loaded, dense as ozone.
Giddy with excitement, I take the hand he holds out to me so fast it makes me blush.
“So, question. Is your bar named after two little stuffed purple bobcats?” I ask him with a knowing wink.
He chuckles. “Guilty. They’ve had them since they were born. It was either the Purple Bobcat, or Bobbie, and the second one’s not the vibe I’m going for.”
I laugh. “Good choice. What is your vibe, anyway?”
His lips quirk up in a smile and I’m drowning in brown-eyed amusement.
“The bar was a different place before I bought it. More of a lawless biker dive than anything else, it was called The Den back when old Wylie McGill owned it. The dude even kept a shotgun behind the bar to break up knife fights.”
“Holy crap.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“Yeah. When I finally scraped together the cash for the sale and knew he wanted to retire, I set out to do away with that crap. This town needs more places where friends and families can get together without having to worry about anybody losing an eye or having their car broken into while it’s parked out back. So I gave it a new name, a makeover, a mess of antique signs and silly jokes, and made it the kinda place anybody could like. I gave Dallas a new happy place.”
My heart swoons a little harder, hearing his passion and care for his people.
They’re not just detached clients keeping him afloat financially.
The way Grady talks, it’s clear he treats everyone like one big extended family.
He stops near the staircase then, and I sense his hesitation.
If I weren’t having a secret conniption fit myself, I’d be over the moon at the thought of Grady being nervous around me.
But here we are.
Smack-dab in the middle of now or never.
His bedroom is down the hall...or do we go downstairs to mine?
I don’t have a preference, but with the girls so close, I think my room might be the better choice.
With a grin, he lifts my hand, kisses it, and then starts down the stairs. We don’t stop on the main floor like I expect, though, but go all the way to the basement.
In his man cave, I ask, “We’re not here to watch the cameras, right?”