Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(10)

My immediate connection with Luke seems to give me brownie points by proxy or something.

I dip my chin, still watching Rhett and Luke across the yard. I don’t want to let my eyes linger too long on Cade Eaton. He’s so bitchy looking that I might laugh, or I might stare longer than is appropriate. Because you’d have to be dead to not enjoy staring at him.

He’s got an intimidating vibe about him. Like a hot, mean teacher.

“I’m out of work for the summer,” I say casually, noting the way the veins in his hand ripple when he tightens his grip on the beer can. “My show horse is rehabbing from an injury and needs a few months off. My best friend in the world fell in love with a cocky cowboy and moved away. My brother got famous almost overnight and is a full-blown workaholic. And my parents are retired and gallivanting around the globe.”

I chance a look up at the dark, foreboding man beside me. Even sitting, he seems tall. One dark brow arches at me while his facial expression remains impassive.

A quiet beat turns into an awkward silence. And I hate awkward silence.

I flip a hand over as though I’m showing him something. “So I’m free.”

He just glares at me.

“If you need a nanny. I could help.”

He continues to glare, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Good God. Does it hurt if you smile? Or say something polite? What happened to the ma’am guy from the coffee shop?”

“You’ll keep him safe?” His voice is all gravel, his eyes like lasers tracing my features. And if he weren’t such a grumpy asshole, this whole overprotective dad vibe would totally do it for me.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

His gaze, full of questions and devoid of warmth, roams over my face, searching for something. “Will you teach him how to knit?”

My nose wrinkles. “Is that . . . is that like a requirement? Can I outsource it? I’m uh . . . not really big on knitting.”

I swear I see a cheek twitch.

“What will you do with him?”

I blow a raspberry and flop back in the chair. “I mean, the options are endless. I’m never bored. Does he ride yet? I could give him riding lessons. I could show him my guitar. Does he like music? I love music. Playdates with some other kids? Cooking? Ooh! I love to bake. How about garden? I bet you could grow some killer veggies out here.”

All I get is a small bob of his head.

“You would send me frequent text updates. I leave early in the morning but like to be home early enough to spend time with him in the evenings. I will do my best to give you weekends off. I know you’re young and probably want to maintain some sort of social life.”

I shrug and chuckle. I started bartending at eighteen. Seven years later, my desire to go out and party is pretty much shot.

I’ll take a boozy brunch with my bestie and a dirty book in bed by eight for a thousand, Alex.

“Not especially.”

Cade gazes out over the back yard, laughter bubbling from under the big willow tree. “Okay.”

I sit up straight. “Okay?”

He nods once, decisively.

“Is that okay like, Willa will you please come help me this summer because I would appreciate it so much?”

He rolls his eyes like I exasperate him. And I’m pretty sure I do. I might even be trying a little bit. I like the way the muscle in his jaw pops, the way his Adam’s apple bobs beneath tawny, tanned skin.

I even like the little shimmer of silver strands dusted throughout his dark hair.

Older guys. They’ve always done it for me.

Cade glances my way now, all raspy, rugged voice and resting bitch face. “I would appreciate your help this summer, Willa. But—”

I hold up a hand. “No buts. That was very polite. Excellent work. I’ll be back tomorrow and can start then. The way I understand it, you need someone right away, yes?” I push to stand, knowing I shouldn’t overstay my welcome or let him get too many demands in.

I can already tell he’s that type of man. Exacting. Specific. Knows what he wants and expects you to deliver.

“Yes,” he bites out, eyes perusing my body critically.

I give him a cheery thumbs up, not sure what to make of him. Not sure it matters since I’ll spend most of my time with his son anyway. “See you tomorrow, then. I’ll get your number from Summer and let you know where I’m at.” I turn to leave, mentally running through all the things I need to do to get ready. For some people, uprooting their life at the drop of a hat would be stressful. They’d need lists and plans.

But not me. I’ve always flown by the seat of my pants. No idea where I’m going, just kind of . . . along for the ride. Life is more exciting this way anyhow. Jobs, men, material shit, none of it seems permanent for me yet.

My dad says I’m unsettled. My mom says I just haven’t found a place I want to settle down yet. And I think she’s right. Plus, the pressure of succeeding the way everyone else in my family has is downright crippling.

Undecided seems easier than failing.

Right when I get to the back door I hear, “Willa.” Cade says my name like it’s a demand. “You need to wear proper undergarments while you’re at work. You can’t be dropping them out of your purse around a child.”

I swear my feet grow roots and my jaw drops. The fucking nerve.