Noah bounded up from his seat, hopping around like he’d just mainlined ten candy bars and twelve sodas. “Can I go with him, Mama? Pleeeeeeeeeease? I gotta meet the Bulldog. I just gotta!”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. My sister threw her hands up in the air. “I give up. He’s already been inundated with violence, it’s probably too late for him. Walker, when you’re arresting him in ten years, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
Noah cocked his head to the side. “Does that mean yes?”
This time, I couldn’t hold in the laugh. Jensen’s eyes narrowed on me.
My dad let out his own chuckle. “I believe it does, Noah. Why don’t you grab a piece of paper and pen from my office. You can ask for Mr. Bulldog’s autograph.”
Noah’s face lit with the epitome of child-like glee. Then he took off for the other side of the house.
My mom got to her feet, retrieving what looked like a basket of muffins from the counter. “These for me?” I asked, sniffing the bundle. Marionberry, my favorite.
She smacked my hand away before I could lift the towel covering them. “No, you greedy little troublemaker. These are for Taylor, the young woman renting our cabin. I want you to bring them with the lease and keys. And invite her to dinner next weekend, would you? We need to give her a proper welcome.”
Taking the basket from her hands, I kissed her cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Suck-up,” Grandma said with a cough.
“You got that one right,” Jensen joined in. “He always had Mom fooled. Guess nothing’s changed.”
I circled the table, giving Jensen a thorough noogie. “Just for that, I’m going to take Noah to an MMA fight live and in person.”
Jensen whirled, trying to grab hold of my forearm so she could pull out my arm hair, a move she’d been perfecting since I’d hit puberty. But I was too quick for her this time, narrowly escaping her grasp.
“Now, kids…” my mom began.
“Gotta run,” I called. “I’ll drop Noah back on my way home.”
“Watch your back, Cole,” my sister growled.
I ran into Noah in the entryway and headed out the door.
5
Walker
My truck bumped from a dip in the dirt road as Noah and I drove towards the Harris’s vacation rental and this mysterious new tenant who had famous friends. I took in the sight of Willow Creek, cutting through the rolling meadows as we rounded a bend in the road. The view never got old. I’d grown up with so many kids who couldn’t wait to get out of Sutter Lake. When I left for college in Portland, I couldn’t wait to get back.
Noah bounced in the back seat of the truck cab, a constant stream of barely recognizable words escaping his mouth. “Uncle Walker, remember when Bulldog knocked that guy out in two seconds?”
“Yeah, buddy. It was pretty cool, huh?” It was fourteen seconds, but still a ridiculously impressive feat that had netted Austin “Bulldog” Lyons his second heavyweight Ultimate Fighting League championship. I had to admit, I might get a little star-struck myself meeting the guy. My friend, Tuck, and I had salivated over Bulldog’s career. Tuck would be pissed that he missed out on this.
“So. Freaking. Cool.” Noah punctuated each word by punching the air with his fist. My nephew was cute as fuck.
I swung my rig into the gravel drive at the front of the house. I’d barely thrown the vehicle into park when Noah unbuckled his seatbelt, jumped out of his booster seat, pushed open the truck door, and took off running towards the house.
“Shit.” I switched off the engine and threw open my own door. “Noah!” I hollered.
But it was too late. Noah was already pounding on the front door with those tiny but determined fists, calling for “Mister Bulldog.” Double shit.
Before I reached the porch steps, the front door opened, and one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen appeared. She was so beautiful, I felt like I’d been sucker-punched by Bulldog himself. Her golden-blonde hair swirled in the breeze of the open door, framing a heart-shaped face with bewitching, gray-blue eyes. She was petite, almost tiny, and an image of me curling around her as we slept immediately popped into my mind.
What in the actual fuck?
I had a girlfriend. It wasn’t serious, but I was committed. And I was certainly notthatguy. And since I wasn’tthatguy, these were not the images I needed floating around in my head.
Shaking myself from my inner mental meltdown, I realized that the porch was now full of people. “I’m so sorry—” I started.
