Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance(16)

“Luke.” He looks terrified. It’s so hard to give my kid shit when he’s this cute. But I don’t get the privilege of playing good cop, bad cop with another parent. I get stuck doing all the dirty work.

Doling out all the scolding. Some days I worry about how that makes me seem to him, but someone’s gotta keep him on the straight and narrow.

Someone’s gotta keep him safe.

“Sorry!” he exclaims, shrinking down in his seat while Willa’s head swivels between us.

“Why are we sorry?”

I sigh deeply, shaking my head and sawing into my chicken breast with altogether too much force.

“Luke has already asked to throw lettuce heads out the window and I told him no.”

Luke can’t even hold my eyes, and Willa’s jaw drops as she stares back at him. “Dude!

Seriously?”

His little lips clamp down as he curls in on himself. He’s not a bad kid, he’s just got a little bit of a rebellious streak. I guess he comes by it honestly as an Eaton boy.

“I thought Dad meant he just didn’t want to do it.” He turns pleading eyes on Willa. “You said you had fun doing it!”

“Luke—” I start but Willa cuts in.

“We both know you’re smarter than that, Luke. You tricked me. On purpose. Not cool. I had fun, but knowing that you lied to me about it ruins all the fun.” She says it with nothing mean in her tone, but Luke looks devastated.

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest, a little surprised by her taking this seriously rather than laughing me off. And a little relieved that I don’t have to lay into him—again.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes are instantly shrink-wrapped. He’s a sensitive kid. It doesn’t take much to put him back in place.

Willa nods, taking another green bean between her lips. “I know you are. You’re a good person.

But when you trick me, it breaks my trust. And your dad is trusting me to keep you safe, and we need to respect his rules, at least sometimes. Because now we’ve broken his trust too. Does that make



sense to you?”

There’s a part of me that wants to jump in and protect Luke. But the fact of the matter is, Willa is right. She’s talking to him respectfully, like an adult, and I can’t fault her.

I’m also just so relieved to have support, even if it comes in the form of Willa Grant. The redheaded mouthpiece who makes eating green beans look pornographic.

Because my dad just acts like Luke is hilarious all the time—which is fine. In fact, that’s why I don’t want him to be Luke’s full-time caretaker. I don’t want to ruin their friendship. I also don’t want Luke to turn into Mowgli. A little wild boy raised by a pack of wild men all living together on a ranch.

It’s fucking weird if I think about it too much.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Luke says carefully.

“I know you are, buddy.”

“I just wanted to have some fun. It sounded so fun! It really was fun!”

“We’re ranchers—farmers, Luke. It’s a waste of good food.”

“I know,” he replies, defeated. And then he brightens as he glances up at me. “Next time you cover the Jansen’s tractor in toilet paper, can I do it too?”

How the fuck does he know about that prank?

I see Willa’s lips twitch, but she keeps her focus fixed on her plate. And then she goes for another green bean, and I have to look away.

This kid is going to be the death of me.

And so is his goddamn nanny.

Putting Luke to bed is my favorite part of the night. The cuddles. The stories. The things he tells me in the safety of his dark, peaceful room. He goes all soft and sweet, and we talk about things that don’t come up throughout the day. It’s why I’ll never give up that part of his schedule.

My second favorite part of the night? A hot tub to soothe away the aches of the day. A quiet moment in my most frivolous purchase. Time alone to stare up at the stars and enjoy a little solitude.

Which is what I’m doing, head tipped back, arms draped over the outer edges, when I hear the back door click shut. My lids pop open, and I see Willa’s silhouette through the rising steam around me.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll leave,” she whispers, turning to go, towel wrapped around her tall frame.

A smart man would say, Yes, please leave. That’s an excellent idea.

I am not a smart man.

Instead, I blurt out, “It’s fine.” After all, I told her to make herself at home and use whatever she wanted. Truthfully, I can’t blame a person for wanting to soak out here after chasing a five-year-old all day.

“You sure? I thought you were in bed.” It’s hard to hear her because, for once, she sounds a little uncertain. It’s hard to see her too through the heated haze rising off the bubbling water. The shape of her is only highlighted by the glow from within the house, seeping through the sliding glass doors.

I should stop using the rising steam as an excuse to stare at her this hard. It’s rude. She’s in her twenties and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.

I tip my head back again and let my eyes flutter shut. “Wouldn’t say it was fine if it wasn’t, Red.”

I hear shuffling and a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, you’d tell me to beat it.”