Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(22)

There’s a long, wide deck with raw log banisters that face out over the long driveway and a full copse of poplars.

Cade is standing there, Wranglers hugging his strong legs, the muscles in his back bunched beneath soft cotton. His close-cut black hair is slicked back neatly, and his trimmed beard gives the impression he made an effort tonight. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing him waltz in after a hard day’s work looking all dirty and sweaty and, well, fucking hot, to be honest.

I stand for a moment and watch him, trying to decide which look I prefer.

His wide palms are propped on the railing and his chin is tucked into his chest.

As I approach, his scent sneaks up on me. Crushed pine needles and sunshine. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s that warm earth that I associate with digging in the garden on a sunny day. There’s nothing manufactured or store-bought about his scent—it’s pure outdoor masculinity.

But it’s the shaking of his shoulders that draws my gaze now.

He’s crying or laughing, and to be honest, both seem equally unlikely from what I know of this man.

“Wanted to come see what a well-blown yard looks like, huh?” I ask.

“Willa—” He can barely get my name out. It’s a breath. It’s a wheeze.

I smile and lean against the post several feet away from him before turning my gaze on the yard. “It does look great out here. Your dad could suck the chrome off of a—” With one hand held up to stop me, his head drops lower and his shoulders shake harder. “I wonder if he’s sore. He really put his back into it.” I snort as I say it. Honestly, I’m barely holding it together. I am a child.

Cade gasps and stands up straight, turning his attention to me. There are tears in his eyes, and I’m sure he’s smiling—he has to be—but he has a fist held up over his mouth.

He seems younger when he’s laughing. Lighter somehow. It makes me laugh too, and before I know it, we’re both standing there, regarding the clean, violated yard, having a chuckle together.

And for once, Cade Eaton isn’t scowling at me.

“Man, my dad is such an asshole, making a joke like that. It’s just to watch us all get uncomfortable too. And then Jasper has to go from saying shit-all to delivering the killing blow without even breaking a sweat.”

I smile and marvel at the man beside me. I’ve seen him every day for a week and not once has he looked even close to this happy.

“Eaton. You grumpy motherfucker. You just laughed,” I blurt.

“Yeah, Red. I did.”

He turns to me and offers the most devastating smile. One that makes my stomach flip and my lips pop open in shock.

It’s like I just put glasses on for the first time and am seeing him in a completely different light.

And I can’t look away.





9





Cade





I hold the door open and usher Willa back into the house. She flashes a look over her shoulder as she walks through the front hall. One that’s all smug and satisfied. One that says she thinks she’s in on some sort of secret.

And maybe she is. The secret is that even though I try to act like the tough, mature big brother and dad, I’m dying inside over blow job jokes.

I’ve just been spending all these years faking that I’m ultra-responsible, hoping that I can fake myself into believing it. Most days I do, but moments like tonight I wonder what I’ve lost in the process.

I wonder if I’m still applying what responsibility looked like to me as a child to the life of a full-grown man. Because that’s what I was when I stepped up in the wake of our mother’s death—a child.

Maybe that’s why I allow myself to eye-fuck the hell out of Willa Grant as we walk back to the dining room. Her round, apple ass, the confident sway of her hips, the spot where her waist nips in—the thought of holding her there.

The feeling of following her brings out something primal in me.

Like, under different circumstances, I’d chase her. I’d take her. And there wouldn’t be any blowback because she wouldn’t be Luke’s nanny. And the fact that I’m this much older than her wouldn’t matter because I wouldn’t give a fuck.

“Wow, Harvey,” Willa announces as we walk into the dining room. “It looks fabulous out there. You blew the hell outta that lawn.”

I scrub a hand over my face as the table erupts into giggles. Harvey included. Bunch of children.

My dad is grinning so wide, his eyes twinkling at the gorgeous redhead currently pulling out her chair next to my son, who’s peering around the room, genuinely confused by what we’re all losing it over.

I shove away a spark of jealousy over the way my dad and Willa are smiling at each other. Because that is insane.

She was just so excited over me laughing. Over me smiling. She smiled back. It felt good. And now she’s in here giving that megawatt grin to other people, who are grinning back at her. And I feel like I want all her smiles for myself.

How hard would it be to smile more, to laugh more, if it made her look this happy?

“We’re going out.” Beau points at me, using that military voice that hedges no debate. Or at least he thinks it does. “Dad’s taking Luke for the night. I want some fun before I deploy again.”

I frown. “No.” This little fucker has never been able to tell me what to do, and I’m not about to let him start now.