No one else is at the Bobcat, and Grady spends a few minutes checking doors and opening shades before he says he’s going to check out back for damage.
The place is rustic, plastered in homey old beer signs and country jokes, but it’s also got a modern vibe I like. You’d be hard-pressed not to feel at ease enjoying an evening of fun here.
I watch the girls play their games until I see Grady’s finished his inspection, then I meet him near the long, highly shellacked bar.
“Everything still in one piece?” I ask, pulling over a glass of water he serves.
“Near enough. Like Weston and Hank said, nothing but the trash got flipped, and they took care of that cleanup. Austin just arrived—he’s the cook today—and I asked him to put on some chicken wings for the girls when he has a chance. What would you like?”
“Wings sound good,” I say. “Anything I can do to help out? I feel like I’m just twiddling my thumbs.”
“Gotta catch up on some paperwork.” He grimaces slightly. “If you want to put your lovely organizational skills to good use, I have a few piles of receipts and shipping orders that need to be filed for accounting.”
“Show me!” I say, glad to not just stand around.
He opens a door behind the bar that reveals a decent-sized office with stacks of papers on top of every flat surface.
“It doesn’t all have to be sorted today,” he says, gesturing to a round table in one corner. “Just the two stacks there. I usually take an evening every week just for filing things, but I haven’t gotten around to it lately with all the fun.”
We trade smiles.
“All right. Do they get filed in that cabinet?” I nod at the black metal filing cabinet next to the table.
“Good guess. There should be a file next to the invoices that have already been approved, paid, and entered into the system. I just keep paper copies for audits.”
“I’m on it, boss!” I say, very deliberately brushing his wall of a body as I saunter past.
Not so fast.
He touches my arm, stopping me from crossing the room, and slowly winds his fingers around my wrist.
The look on his face makes my heart race.
I don’t want him to kiss me, I think, because that shouldn’t keep happening. Not again.
Yeah, I’m not very good at convincing myself, either.
“Daaaad!” Sawyer shouts from the main room. “The Bug Hunt machine malfunctioned and ate my money!”
He pinches his lips together and shakes his head, releasing my hand with a sigh.
“I’d better get on that. Whole world might end if the kids can’t take potshots at cartoon bumblebees.”
“Got you covered,” I say with a grin, hurrying to the table to start my task, telling myself I’m glad for the interruption.
Again, I’m a horrible little liar.
The next half hour feels awkward. Mostly because I’m trying to justify not kissing him again next time we’re alone, and it’s getting more impossible by the second.
The girls shout when the chicken wings are served, along with fries and sodas.
We sit at the table together, talking and laughing. Easy when the girls are so comical, and their little fights over who beat what arcade game ease the tension inside me.
Once we return to Grady’s office, I’m definitely feeling better—even with the smoldering, lip-biting sideways glances Mr. Broody-Brood keeps casting my way.
While Sawyer and Avery run on like tiny chatterboxes, I’m reminded how it’s always been just the three of them for a long time, and how sweetly they’ve welcomed me into their lives.
I should be honored.
They’ve helped me in a desperate time and I have to pay it back somehow.
I definitely can’t leave behind damage.
After we eat, I get the filing done in no time and straighten the room.
Grady comes in and out of the office, greeting employees as they arrive for the evening, as well as the first few customers. We leave before the bar gets super busy and then spend the rest of the afternoon at home cleaning up the yard.
The storm knocked loose plenty of leaves and branches, plus a few last footprints from Bruce I’d missed. I scratch them out of the ground carefully.
The girls head off on their ATVs a little while later, endless bundles of energy, saying they want to check the trails for more messes to clear.
Nope. They’re just ready for some play after all the yard work, and who am I to object?
They really are good kids, and I’m going to miss them like mad whenever Bruce and I leave.
“Want to join them?” Grady asks, towering over me.
I turn from watching them ride away and shake my head.
“No, let them play. I was just thinking what great kids you have.”
“Glad you agree,” he says, but he’s looking at me with a heavy, thoughtful gaze, his eyes flashing.
“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling shy.
He tilts his head slightly to one side. “I get the feeling you’ve been thinking about what happened last night. Maybe you’re changing your mind about a redo.”
Wowza.
So that’s what’s on his mind behind that lady-killer smile. Or he just reads my mind that easily.
I chide myself for not keeping things more hidden.
I shrug.
“After Bruce got out and everything, I bet you probably wondered if it was, well—”
“No. I don’t wonder. It wasn’t a mistake, Willow Wisp.” His growling confidence shocks me to the core as he slides his hands around my waist, bringing me closer. “And if you’re still game, I’ve been looking forward to starting up right where we left off all damn day.”
Oh, snap.
He doesn’t mess around, does he?
Reason one hundred on the grumpalicious-man-beast-o-meter why Grady McKnight might bring me to my knees. More than literally.
Excitement flares inside me, sending hot needles through my blood.
Yes, I’m hopeless, and that’s all there is to it.
“You...you’re sure?” It comes out like a whimper.
“Very.” The tip of his nose touches mine, and then our foreheads meet. “If you’re not, whatever. I’ll understand. I only fuck the willing, darlin’, and I want to fuck you like I need my next breath.”
Oh. My. God.
“I need you,” I admit, refusing to rethink it all again. I’ll have time to do all that after Bruce and I leave.
For now, my body does the talking, defying every reason in my head why this is epic trouble.
And every last bit of me agrees as his hungry lips catch mine in a long, savory kiss.
Though my knees are weaker when the kiss ends, the rest of me feels totally invigorated.
For the life of me, I can’t remember why I ever thought kissing him again would be a bad idea. Can’t imagine why I thought any of this wouldn’t feel enthralling.
“Gonna hit the shower. You do some thinkin’,” he says as we walk together, hand in hand toward the house. “I’ll grill burgers for supper.”
“Sounds delish. I’ll make a macaroni salad while you’re in the shower,” I say, trying not to stay stuck on the image forming in my mind.
Grady, buck naked.
His miles of muscle slick and wet.
That massive bulge I’d felt rubbing against me last night hanging down...or would it be very upright? Intense and pulsing and oh-so-ready to—