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Not when I’m beaming up at him with my entire being because he didn’t say no.
“We don’t have to decide this minute,” I whisper, suppressing a giggle. “Later tonight would be fine.”
“Tonight,” he repeats, a burning flicker in his eyes. “Yeah, fuck. I’ll be there.”
With a parting sticky glance, I exit the laundry room, careful to put a little extra oomph in my hips for him. I know he’s staring as I walk away.
I’m still throbbing from head to toe, and I stumble into the kitchen, barely catching a hold of the counter to help me stand just as Avery bursts inside.
“Willow, I found more flowers! But, um, I don’t know what they are,” she says, bringing a pensive finger to her lips. “Can you come take a look at them? Please?”
Grady’s hands grasp my waist firmly and he gently pushes me toward the door ahead of him with his hand skimming down the small of my back.
“We’ll both look,” he says.
More than willing with that encouragement, I glance over my shoulder at him. “I just need my shoes.”
“I’ll get them for you!” Avery shouts, running into my room and returning a second later with my flip-flops.
Grady gives me a slow, silent, oh-so-heavy look.
Yeah, the anticipation over tonight might just kill me.
Still, I don’t shy away from winding an arm around Grady’s waist as we head outside. We walk along the starting track on the ATV route, stopping every now and then to examine new plants the girls found.
The majority of them are weeds, and although they’re flowering, most aren’t the kind we want in the flower beds because they’ll choke out everything else.
The girls are disappointed when I tell them, but they understand as we continue around the track, searching for good flowers.
At least, I think that’s what’s going on.
It’s hard to walk, much less think, when you feel like you might float away like a stray balloon.
Touching Grady does that.
My nipples are hard greedy nubs. My tongue presses against the roof of my mouth. My knees almost give out several times. My lungs and my heart are having a skipping contest.
Especially when Grady caresses the underside of my thigh—damn him and his secret devil touches—but it’s a special kind of fire blazing through me when I squeeze him. And when my breasts touch his back without the extra protection of a bra...
Hi, welcome to the end of my life.
I’m so completely screwed.
When we arrive back at the house, I go check on Bruce one more time while he starts the grill. The separation is good and gives me time to think.
Will I even survive a close encounter of the sexy kind with him?
Honest question.
My bedroom experiences have been few and far between.
Kinda comes with the territory when you grow up being the teacher’s pet with a famous zoologist for a dad. I think I intimidated a lot of boys who might’ve been interested, so they kept their distance.
I wonder if I know what I’m doing.
I wonder if we can do this without any heart bruises.
Because once this is over, I’ll probably never see Grady or his girls ever again.
At the same time, I have a deep sense that it’s past time Grady found a fresh look on life. A second chance, just like the freshly planted flowers.
He’s clearly into me, and I’m happy to shake things up.
He’s been buried in grief and loneliness for too long, and if I can help while I’m here...
Well, why not?
Sure, I think my mind would work up any justification for a night with him, but it does make sense.
To me.
I think.
Either that, or I just really want to wind up under him and find out what every seething inch of that bulldozer body can do.
“Willow? Is everything all right? Dad’s about to put the steaks on!”
Sawyer’s little nose is right behind me as I close up the barn, and I smile at the sight.
I’ve never gotten so attached, so fast, and not just to her fine freaking father.
I’m going to miss this entire family when I leave.
“Nothing to worry about,” I say, checking the locks on the door one more time. “I was just watching Bruce. He’s still out for his evening nap and totally content in the barn.”
No lie. He’s adapted as quickly to this place as I have, though it’s no place for a tiger.
Then again, we’ve both done our fair share of traveling over our lives, and staying anywhere for longer than a few days makes us comfortable.
“Did you know Bruce was with a circus once? It was before I met him, but it’s true,” I say while we walk across the farm.
“He was? Wow!” She skips along at my side, carrying a flower in her dainty hand.
“Yep. He was born in a zoo in Upstate New York, and then sold to a circus as a cub. But the circus went bankrupt, and since then, he’s been bouncing around from small-town zoos and sanctuaries before ending up with me because his last place had to get rid of all their big cats.”
