“Right ahead of you, man. I’ve been saying that for weeks,” I tell him.
“I think she’s a keeper,” Drake says with a lopsided grin.
No fucking comment.
“What I can’t believe,” Willow says with a smile that splits me open, “is the way your horses ran him up the tree and kept him there for us to find.”
“That’s our Edison,” Drake says, every bit of fondness bleeding through.
I snort. “Who ever heard of a tiger scared of horses? Is this real life?”
“First time for everything,” Willow says, relaxing her head on my shoulder as the last of her energy from this cluster of a night gives out.
13
C’mere, Tiger (Willow)
As much as I wish it would, this long-ass night doesn’t end there.
While Grady takes the long road home, I drive back on the four-wheeler cross-country, and spot a pickup in the driveway as I’m closing in on the farm.
Not Grady’s, but Uncle Hank’s.
Crap.
Hank’s here! I text Grady as I park the ATV and jump off.
What? Why? Did something happen? he sends back.
I don’t know yet. But I need to find out ASAP.
And I get my chance a second later when the screen door bangs open and a pint-sized silhouette materializes.
“You’re back!” Sawyer shouts. “Uncle Hank stopped by to see if we had any damage. I told him you were helping Drake and Bella catch Edison and Edna.”
Whew. Smart freaking girl.
“And I just sent a text to Daddy telling him the same thing!” Avery adds.
“Good job, girls,” I answer, jogging toward the house.
We should both be crazy thankful they’re so quick on their feet for ten-year-olds. Though I feel bad about them distorting the truth, I’m proud of them for keeping our secrets.
“I was at the bar when the storm came tearing through,” Hank says as I enter the house. “Had to stay there till it was over. The winds knocked over the whole dumpster out back, and Weston and I cleaned it up before leaving. Grady texted asking me to check-in on the girls, so I decided to do it in the flesh.”
He’s a tall, lanky man with a huge cowboy hat riding low on his head, and he grins at me like he’s telling some bawdy inside joke.
“Oh, thanks! Grady will appreciate it,” I say. “He’s still coming back from Drake and Bella’s. I rode the ATV home.”
“Well, as long as all’s well here, I’m heading out.” He glances at the girls and then back to me as he continues. “Tell old Grady to call me and I’ll come by to help him fix that barn door. Damn good thing he never kept anything alive in there, huh?”
Uh-oh.
His probing tone is telling.
Hank isn’t stupid. He knows something’s up. That’s a given.
Needing him to leave before he figures anything out, I gesture at the girls.
“Don’t worry. I’ll mention it. Thank you again,” I say, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. “I need to get the girls off to bed.”
Nodding with one last smile, he walks out the door and down the steps.
My stomach sinks.
I’ve always sensed something isn’t quite right between Hank and Grady. The girls adore their uncle like he hung the stars, but there’s no denying how Grady seems at odds whenever Hank picks up the girls.
Almost like this weird secret wall between them with whole speeches tucked between the lines.
I don’t get it.
The girls start asking questions two at a time as soon as I shut the door. I smile, wondering how it’s even possible that I haven’t been with them that long.
Our connection runs deep, the kind of groove you only find when you meet folks who really share your vibe.
They’ve already talked to Grady on the phone and know Bruce is fine.
They chatter on with a dozen stories about Edison the genius horse, telling me how Bella let them brush him and feed him candy canes a few times.
There, too, I’d felt a connection. Bella Larkin felt like she was on my wavelength, especially in a pretty big crisis.
If things were different, I could see myself making friends with these folks and feeling right at home in these parts.
After growing up partly in San Diego and spending the rest of my time trekking around the world, a stick in the mud town like Dallas shouldn’t be tucked around my heart like a weighted blanket.
But every day I’m here, every person I meet, every minute I’m with Grady and his girls...
Yeah.
Something digs in hard and deep.
And I’m kinda afraid what that means when the time comes to move on.
Headlights reflect off the front door, and I’m instantly reminded it’s not all summer fun.
This is a freaking mess, and we all just dodged a cannonball.
Thankfully, Bruce was full, so he hadn’t been out on the prowl for a meal, just frightened by the storm.
Now I have to find a place for him until we can get the barn door fixed.
Awesome.
More work, more complications, and even more frayed nerves.
I open the door and step outside but lock up on the steps when I notice a second truck behind Grady’s. It’s Uncle Hank’s big pickup returning.
Mega crap.
What now?
Staying put on the porch, I watch as the men meet near the loaner stock trailer holding Bruce. I swallow the thickness in my throat.
Guess that seals it, then.
There’s no way to keep this hidden any longer. Grady must’ve decided to give Hank the truth.
I turn and tell the girls to stay inside, then walk down the steps to join them.
Hank looks frantic after one good look through the slats in the trailer. He lets out a loud whistle, right before slapping a hand over his mouth.
“It’s okay. He’s not gonna break out and claw you,” Grady tells him.
But Hank mutters a few more indecipherable words and breaks away, jogging to his truck by the time I arrive next to Grady.
It’s dark, but I can see the frustration souring his face, casting deep lines in his brow.
Guilt hits me like a wrecking ball.
I hate being responsible for all of this trouble and stress and secrecy.
I abhor what my mess has done to this gorgeous man and his friends.
“He’s grabbing his welder and torch to help me fix the barn door,” Grady says numbly as he walks back to the open door of his truck.
“Tonight?” I ask, surprised.
“Yep, tonight. I’ll back this trailer into the pole shed, but we won’t be able to close the door. Your boy needs a better place to crash. I hate thinking about him being cooped up in this trailer for even a day.”
“It’s a solid trailer,” I say. “Bruce won’t be able to get out.”
He reaches in the truck and retrieves his phone off the console. “Maybe not, but people can see inside it. They can see him. Already had to fill one more person in tonight on the fact that I’m housing an illegal tiger, and I can’t say I fancy doing it again.”
Ouch.
I get it now, even if it makes me feel like total crap.
“Sad to say we’ve got a new problem, too,” he says, palming his phone.
After swiping the screen, he passes it over.