Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(25)

“What about the nanny? We can wing it without practice, or I can trailer in.” His eyes drop, and my chest puffs as I shift to block his gaze.

“She gets the weekends off.”

“We can figure someth—”

“I don’t mind working a couple of weekends.” Willa’s body presses beside mine as my head snaps in her direction.

“No,” I grit out.

She shrugs. “Calm your tits, Eaton. I’m just offering.”

Lance laughs and smiles at her, all cowboy charm. It’s fucking annoying. It’s even worse watching him shake Willa’s hand. Her smiling back at him. They’re both sunny and happy. They suit each other well and I hate it bugs me.

“Lance Henderson.”

“Willa Grant. Pleasure to meet you.”

His smile transforms into a smirk I recognize well from watching him pick up buckle bunnies when we were younger. “Oh darling, the pleasure is all mine.”

I like Lance. He’s a good guy, and he’s charming as all get out, but I don’t like him charming my nanny.

Which is why I say something I never thought I’d hear myself say. “Willa and I were just about to dance. But it’s been nice seeing you, Lance.” I give him a tip of my chin and grab Willa by the elbow before dragging her out onto the dance floor.

“I think I missed the part where we were just about to dance?” she teases as I pull her into a two-step position, trying to just plant my hand at her waist rather than sliding it over her ribs the way I want to.

“It was an excuse to get away from that smiley motherfucker.”

She casually drapes a hand over my shoulder as my fingers wrap around her dainty hand and we easily fall into step to the upbeat, twangy song. I make a point of staring over her shoulder rather than at her.

It’s hard.

She’s got some pretty pink dress on. It’s simple, but it hugs her curves, skims her knees, and is altogether too low cut. The way she’s paired it with a pair of white Chuck Taylors makes her look too fucking young.

Where Summer is all pencil skirts and high heels, Willa is bright colors and sneakers.

“So . . .” I peek at her and notice the way she’s watching other people on the dance floor. People who are definitely watching us. Because grumpy Cade Eaton never dances. When I come here, I nurse a beer and glare at any woman who comes my way.

It’s worked well for me so far. But Willa Grant is shaking my shit up.

“You come here often?” she asks.

“Willa.” My teeth clench.

“If I make a blow job joke, will you laugh again?”

My teeth grind. “No.”

“What’s the best thing about a blow job?”

“Good lord, woman. Just stop.” I turn my chin down at her and try to give her my most intimidating expression. Just hearing her say the words blow job is too much for a guy who hasn’t gotten one in years.

But, as usual, Willa isn’t the least bit deterred.

Her fingers pulse in mine, and she does that light, sparkly laugh that makes my dick twitch. “No, wait. You’re going to love this one. It’s so you.”

She leans into my ear, and her breath fans across my neck as she huffs out a small snort before composing herself enough to finish the joke. I bite the inside of my cheek to contain whatever expression might pop up on my face. “The ten minutes of silence.”

I have to look away across the room. I can feel her body shaking, laughing at her own joke.

No shame.

“I got you. I saw that. Are your cheeks bleeding, Eaton? Does it hurt to hold in your laughter like that? I hear it can give you erectile dysfunction.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Red?”

She blows a raspberry, highly amused. “Oh yeah. She’d love that joke.”

“The joke’s on you though. I wouldn’t last ten minutes and just because you’d be quiet doesn’t mean I would be.”

We both go still, and I watch her eyes widen while I beat myself up internally for letting a snippet of my old self tumble out, woken up by the beautiful redhead in my arms.

“Who said anything about me and you, Cade?” She blinks, her thick lashes making her appear a lot more innocent than I’m thinking she is.

Young? Yes.

Shy? No.

It’s a dangerous combination for a man like me.

The song changes, and before I can reply, some guy who works at the bank cuts in and asks if he can have the next dance.

I nod and step away graciously, even though it kills me. The thought of letting someone else dance with her makes me see red, but I also need to get the fuck away from wherever that conversation was heading.





10





Cade





Beau: Dude. You look like you’re trying to kill someone with the power of your stare.

Beau: Do you have a special superpower I don’t know about?

Cade: Why are you texting me from the same table?

Beau: Because you’re too terrifying to talk to.

Cade: I hope our nation’s enemies don’t find out what a pussy you are.

Beau: That’s rude. I think I’ll go dance with the nanny. She seems nice.

Beau: Yikes. Is that face special for me? Wanna go outside and blow off some steam like when we were kids?