Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(39)

“You taught him that.” Cade points at me as I lead the filly over to one of the guys.

“Yeah?” I quirk a brow and head toward the man I started out not liking but who I now can’t stop thinking about.

Fantasizing about.

From my side of the fence, I lean close, dropping my voice. “I’m pretty sure of the two of us, you’re the one with the filthy mouth, Cade.”

His hand shoots between the metal panels, fingers hooking through my belt loop to hold me still. To keep me there, as he breathes down on to me. The whoosh of each exhale caresses my cheek. “You have no fuckin’ idea, Red.”

With one little tug on my jeans, he jostles me and then steps away, spinning one hand up above his shoulders and shouting at the guys. “Let’s go assholes. Break time is over. You’ve been shown up by a prissy city girl. Now prove to me I shouldn’t fire your useless asses.”

I snort. The man really has a poetic way with words.

As I scoot through the fence near the barn where I saw Luke run, one man exclaims toward my retreating form, “God fuckin’ damn. The view out here has never been so good.”

My lips quirk, and I turn to give him a wink, but with two easy steps Cade’s arm darts out and shoves him off the top of the fence where he’d been sitting. The cowboy lands on his knees with a loud bark of disbelieving laughter.

Cade’s not laughing though. “Eyes on the dirt if you plan to keep your job, cowboy.”

I just turn away and smile to myself, because Cade is seething. It’s almost like he’s jealous.

And I think I like that.





14





Cade





Willa: Panties? Check. Bra? No check.

Cade: You’re going to a children’s birthday party. Try again.

Willa: Right. Let me try again.

Willa: Panties? No check. Bra? Also no check.

Cade: The town is talking about you enough as it is.

Willa: Oooh. What are they saying?

Cade: That your panty lines are very defined.

Willa: My god. Did you just make a joke?

Cade: I’ll be there at 6 tonight. Please don’t embarrass me.

Willa: Oh boy. Is that a challenge?

Cade: Bye, Red.

Willa: I do this with Luke when he behaves badly too. Just ignore him. I don’t think it’s going to work on me though.





I pull up in front of the sizeable newly built house where the birthday party is being hosted. Truthfully, I hate this shit.

Showing up at kids’ birthday parties as a single dad in a small town feels like being locked in a cage full of hungry lions.

Or is it cougars?

I shake my head, stepping out of my truck. Droplets of water rain down the back of my neck, because I rushed out of the shower to get here so Willa wouldn’t be stuck in the cougar den by herself.

I’m not oblivious to how snoopy and pushy people in this town can be. Especially around my family, who they’ve always treated a little like royalty. Like ticks who crawl up out of the shrubs to catch a ride.

Talia happened once and that will never happen again.

I snag a cap from the back seat and fit it to my head before spinning the brim to the back.

The happy squeals of children and the sound of splashing water draw me around the side of the house. I reach over the wooden gate and pull on the hidden string.

City folks.

It’s like they think no one knows this string is there.

I step into the heavily landscaped backyard, taking in the in-ground pool and the parents milling around while children run around in their swimsuits.

But it’s the sight of Luke crying in soaked clothes while Willa crouches in front of him, rubbing at his arms at the poolside that gets my heart pumping.

The kid puts up a good front. He plays it tough. But right now, he’s borderline inconsolable.

I can see the tension in Willa’s body, the heartbreak in her eyes. And it makes me like her even more. She doesn’t care about the rest of the party buzzing around her. She’s only got eyes for my son.

And when she pulls him in for a hug, soaking herself in the process, I melt.

Luke whispers something in her ear and points at another kid. I should recognize these kids and parents, but I usually pawn this shit off on my dad.

Forced socialization with adults I don’t like is its own special brand of torture, and I guess there are limits to what I’ll do for my kid.

Willa stands and glances over her shoulder at the boy sucking on a lollipop, standing with his back to her. I think he’s the birthday kid, but I’m not entirely sure. His mom, whose name I also forget, is standing with two other moms chatting.

A quick glance back at Willa has me walking across the grass, because her expression is pure fire. Rhett told me she was loyal, and I recognize that look on her face. Because when someone shits on a person I care about, I make it too.

In just a few strides, Willa is bent over by the birthday boy, who stares up at her and laughs with a little shit-eating grin on his face.

“Excuse me!” his mom trills, her white wine spritzer swirling in the glass.

Willa isn’t touching the kid, but she’s right in his face, and I can see her lips moving slowly like she’s carefully enunciating her words.

“Did you hear me? Stop talking to him!”