Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(32)

God. What was I thinking?

I lean back against the kitchen counter and swipe my hand over my mouth. Out of control, that’s what I am.

It’s like I didn’t break enough rules when I was younger—I was too busy being serious—and now that streak is cropping up on me.

It’s perfectly natural. Willa is a smoke show. She’d make a priest crumble. And I’m no man of the cloth.

“Good morning.” She waltzes into the kitchen like I summoned her just by thinking of her. All wild copper hair piled on top of her head and fresh-faced, which is making her look awfully young.

But when my eyes drop to her chest, all warning thoughts of her being too young grow wings and fly right the fuck out of my head. Her perky tits are teasing me through a soft, white cotton concert tee.

I couldn’t tell you which band it’s for, because all I can see is outlines of those goddamn nipple piercings.

Taunting me. Reminding me how that pretty, pale purple swimsuit wedged itself between her pussy lips.

Jealousy of a bathing suit is a new feeling for me.

“Good morning,” I bite out, madder at myself than her. But I lash out all the same. “Are you averse to bras as well?”

Her laugh is airy as she rises on her tippy-toes to reach the top of the cupboard where I keep the coffee cups. My eyes are drawn to the way her calves flex, toned legs disappearing into a pair of baby blue short-shorts, her bare feet on my floor. There’s something intimate about having Willa in my space like this. And Luke isn’t even here to make a good reason for it.

“Here, I’ll grab that.” It only takes me one step to stand directly behind her and reach into the back of the cupboard. I guess I don’t normally go through mugs this quickly when I’m the only one using them.

“Thanks,” she breathes, shrinking back down onto the soles of her feet, brushing the curve of her ass along my front as she does.

I step away quickly, placing the mug on the marble countertop and willing my cock to not pop up and make a special appearance, outing me as the world’s biggest creep.

As she pours herself a coffee, she says, “Not at all averse to bras.” Her lips tip up. “But I don’t normally sleep in them. Just grabbing coffee.”

She leans against the countertop, all smug with herself.

“Do you normally walk around like that when Luke is here?”

Her hands wrap around the mug, and she takes a tentative sip, eyeing me over the rim as she does. “No. I normally wait until I hear you leave. Then I get up and make my cup of coffee.”

I grunt, feeling like a dick for policing how she walks around. Luke wouldn’t even notice. I’m the fucker with his head in the gutter who can’t handle it.

“Then I go back to my room and put my panties on,” she huffs out quietly, peering up playfully from behind her mug.

“Wait. Did you just say that you wait for me to leave and then make coffee?”

Her brow arches. “Smarter than you look, Eaton.”

“But I’m up at 4:30.”

She shrugs. “Yeah. It’s kind of nice. I sit on the front deck and read my dirty books. It’s peaceful. I like the morning, and since I’m not out until three a.m. working, I can actually enjoy them. I hate sleeping in. I always feel like I’ve wasted my day.”

“Why do you wait for me to leave?”

She gives me a face that says she thinks I’m an idiot. “Because if you’re this grumpy midmorning, I’d hate to see you first thing. Those cowboys down at the ranch must be terrified of you.”

I grunt. They are. And that’s just how I like it.

“Do my nipples bother you, Cade?”

Coffee sprays from my mouth.

I get most of it back in my mug, but not all. My hand is soaked, and I can feel the droplets of it in my beard.

Willa blinks at me innocently, and my heartbeat thunders in my ears.

Fake innocence. She knew what she was doing when she asked that question.

“No.” I wipe at my face, turning to put my coffee back down on the countertop. I need to pick my next words carefully so I don’t come off like a condescending asshole.

I know I often come across that way, and I don’t want to with Willa. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, wanting someone to like me. “It’s just that—”

“It’s funny. I thought about you telling me panty lines aren’t something we should worry about people seeing, and I’m feeling the same way about my nipples.”

I blink at her.

Hell. No.

“We all have nipples, right?”

I swallow, at a loss for how to reason my way out of this. She’s trapped me in a box of my own logic.

“For example . . .” Her bright green feline eyes drop to my chest. “I can see yours right now.”

My chin snaps toward my chest, and sure enough, my nipples are giving me away.

“And they don’t bother me at all.” She licks her bottom lip slowly, with intention, before one cheek hitches up in a lopsided smirk.

Then she turns and walks back toward her bedroom, holds one fist up above her head, and says, “Fuck the patriarchy.”

And I’m left standing there. Watching her. Wondering if she’s wearing any panties under those soft, loose shorts I could so easily pull to the side.