Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(24)

Willa’s eye twitches, her lips flattening as she looks around the bar. She seems like she’s all bravado and bluster, but I get the sense I just hurt her feelings. Not so much by what I said, but by what I didn’t say.

I bump my elbow back at her. “I like you too, Red. I just feel bad for Bailey. Her family is shit but she’s a sweet girl. She gets a bad rap around town.”

She rolls her eyes while staring out across the room. “You don’t like me. You tolerate me.”

I mull that over. Is that how I come off to her? I guess she has no way of knowing it’s a struggle for me to keep my eyes off her when she interacts with Luke, even harder to keep her image from popping up in my mind when I fist my cock in the shower. Both things I don’t intend to tell her, so I opt for, “The way I see it, I like you a little more every day.”

Because that much is true. The girl is growing on me, like a vine wrapping up around an old oak. And for once, I’m not sure I mind.

Willa’s head turns slowly, with intent, and her eyes scour my face. I feel like I’m being analyzed, decoded—it’s fucking unnerving.

“You trying to put a spell on me, Red? Some sort of city-girl voodoo shit?”

“City girl voodoo shit?” She smiles, still staring at me hard. Amused. Glowing. She’s goddamn breathtaking. The rest of the bar fades away, and with a little shake of my head, I give her a reluctant smile and drop her gaze.

She laughs and flops back against the couch, watching Bailey approach with a tray full of drinks. “Daddy Cade, you’re a whole lot prettier when you smile.”

I can’t help but snort. “You’re insane.” Usually a woman’s attention makes me squirm. It’s too intense. There’s too much pressure. But with Red, she toes the line of joking. Truthfully, I can’t make heads or tails of her. If nothing else, she has my attention.

She grins up at me, gently tugging at her long, straight hair. Like that’s an answer.

I’d like to tug on that hair too, is what I’m thinking when I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder. “Cade, buddy, how are ya?”

The smile comes easily now. My high school friend, Lance Henderson, is towering over me, grinning like the fucking loon he is.

I stand, reaching out to shake his hand in a firm clap while slapping at his shoulder. It’s our kind of equivalent of a hug. “I’m doin’ alright. How about you? What brings you out this way?”

“Rodeo nearby. Thought I’d take a detour through the old stomping grounds.”

“Yeah?”

“Heck yeah.” He nods at the table. “Look at you all. The entire Eaton clan. What is this? Some sort of family reunion?”

“Nah, that’s next month.”

His eyes drop, and I catch him eyeing up Willa, who is pretending to pay attention to everyone else in the loud bar, but I can tell by the angle of her head that she’s eavesdropping. Snoopy little thing.

When I glance back at Lance, it’s almost impossible to miss the appreciative way he’s looking at her.

And it fucking bugs me.

I take a step over, blocking Willa with my body. “This isn’t the grocery store, Henderson. Whatchya looking for?”

His head tips back and he barks out a laugh. “That your girl, Eaton?”

I scowl back at him. “No. She’s my nanny.”

He arches a brow at me from beneath his tan cowboy hat. “Your nanny?”

I sigh like I’m exasperated with him, but no chance am I backing down on this. “You heard me, dickhead. How long you in town for?”

His eyes are twinkling, but he doesn’t push the Willa thing any farther, and I drop my shoulders, tension easing out.

Pathetic.

“Just one night. Was actually hoping to get in touch with you. Couldn’t find ya on social media.”

“Why would I need social media?” I deadpan.

“I don’t know. To stay in touch with friends like me?”

“Once every five or so years in person is perfect for me. Too much of a good thing and all that.” I like Lance but me sharing photos with him and hearting his status updates—never.

“I need a partner. My guy is out with a broken collarbone. We’re close to qualifying for the national finals.”

“No.”

“Why not? You’re one of the best penners I’ve ever seen. It’s a shame you never continued.”

People don’t get it. Traveling around rodeoing was never an option for me. No one ever asked me if that’s what I’d like to do. Because I would have loved to do it. I am a good fucking cowboy. But duty called, and that duty was here at home. The ranch. Luke. Family.

I was never granted the privilege of doing whatever I wanted, and being reminded of it smarts.

“I rope and pen all the time. For work. Not show.”

“Good, then you’re not out of practice.”

“Lance, it ain’t gonna happen.” I cross my arms over my chest, hearing the buzz of conversation behind me, but I can feel Willa shift closer toward the midline of the couch.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve got the ranch. I’ve got a kid. I can’t just take off for days at a time. I can’t hang at your place and practice. I have responsibilities.”