Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(35)

“What song?”

“A song your dad will know.”

“He doesn’t know any good music,” Luke provides very matter-of-factly.

My shoulders shake as I laugh silently. “It’s true,” I call over my shoulder.

“He’s too old!”

I turn and narrow my eyes at him jokingly.

“He’ll know this one then.” Willa’s fingers strum a few chords, and I instantly know the song.

I turn my fake dirty look on her, and she grins back. Who doesn’t know “Dust on the Bottle”? It’s a classic.

Her voice is thick with amusement, her posture straighter when I smile at her. She lights up when I laugh.

She sings about dust on a bottle and how the contents just keep getting better with age. It’s funny, she’s poking fun at me and she knows it. The night flows from there. Conversation, jokes, good food. And after that song Luke has resorted to teasing Willa and me about being old. He’s dubbed us “Grandma” and “Grandpa.”

“Pass the mashed potatoes please, Grandma.” He dissolves into a fit of giggles, the golden evening rays glinting off of his dark, shiny hair, cheeks rosy from summer days spent in the sun.

I feel alarmingly . . . at ease.

“You’re a weird kid, you know that?” Willa picks up an unevenly cut piece of cucumber and pops it into her mouth. “A total weirdo.”

Weirdo is Luke’s favorite joke insult right now, and he laughs so hard that he gasps for air. Willa laughs too, looking at him with so much affection that my heart twists in my chest.

“No, Willa! You’re a weirdo! I’ve seen you dance. You’re the biggest weirdo in the world!”

Her hand falls across her chest, and she leans back dramatically. “How dare you, Luke Eaton. That’s just cruel. I dance beautifully.”

“Show my dad! Show my dad how weird you dance!” Amused tears glisten in the corners of his eyes, and he wipes at them with pudgy little fingers.

“Okay, fine. He can be the judge. Got that, Cade? Luke and I are going to dance, and you’ll decide which of us is the bigger weirdo.”

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, wondering why I ever disliked her. How can a single person not like Willa Grant?

She’s fucking enchanting.

“Okay?” Her head quirks, and her silky hair tumbles around her shoulders.

I give her a small smile, chuckling at the absurdity of their competition, but too entertained to stop them. “Okay.”

“Good.” She grins at me, moving over to the countertop to hook her Bluetooth up to the speaker. “Let’s do . . .” She glances over her shoulder at me as her thumb presses down and the first few notes of “Summer of ’69” filters out through the sound system.

I shake my head. But can’t help the smile stretching across my face. She would.

Willa starts off with a terrible moonwalk, before moving into a horrendous sprinkler. She may have been shy playing guitar, but she isn’t shy about dancing. She’s fun. She’s funny. And Luke loves it. He doesn’t even dance. He just jumps around laughing at her, spindly arms and legs flailing wildly.

She does some shaky, twerky move that I’m sure the kids these days have a name for, and eventually grabs his hands in hers to make him dance with her. He jiggles his hips and smiles up at her so widely that my cheeks hurt just watching.

I realize they hurt because I’m smiling that hard. The back of my throat aches as I watch Willa spin my little boy around the kitchen on what’s meant to be her day off.

“Do you see how weird she is, Dad?” Luke calls to me.

“Yeah. Super weird,” I agree as she turns to give me a fake scowl over her shoulder.

The only weird thing is what I’m feeling about a woman I’ve known for mere weeks.

It’s not just weird.

It’s fucking absurd.

“Okay. Now Grandma and Grandpa dance!” Luke giggles, pulling Willa over to me.

I scowl at them both.

Willa holds a hand up to her mouth and whisper-shouts toward Luke, “I think he might be the weirdest.”

Luke cackles, and even I can’t turn him down. Bryan Adams isn’t so bad, and they both look totally irresistible standing in front of me with wide smiles, bright eyes, and rosy cheeks.

“Let’s go, Grandpa.” She reaches a hand toward me, eliciting another round of manic laughter from Luke, who is clearly beyond exhausted based on how bad he has the giggles.

I wrap my hand around hers with a groan, like I’m annoyed, even though I’m not.

Not even a little bit.

I stand and spin Willa in a quick circle, telling myself that I’ve already danced with her before at The Railspur.

This is just in my kitchen.

There isn’t much left in this song anyway.

“I’ll be right back!” Luke tears out of the kitchen, cackling like the Joker as he goes.

I spin her again, feeling my boxers grow tighter at the light laughter that crests her perfect lips. When the song ends and the beat of silence slips into a softer, slower melody, I should step away.

But I don’t. Instead, I pull her close, not missing the tiny, shocked gasp she breathes out as I do.

“Should I stop?” I drop my voice, letting my eyes linger on her lips.