Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance(17)

Fuck.

She’s not trying to be forward. But the words beat it out of her mouth in that slightly hoarse voice has the air around me feeling altogether too thin.

Fabric rasps and gentle steps move toward the tub. I squeeze my eyes tighter, refusing to give in to the voice inside my head telling me to peek. To watch her climb over the edge. To see what type of bathing suit she’s wearing and if her skin is as creamy as it looked from that glimpse I could see beyond her shirt yesterday.

I ignore the flipping sensation in my stomach.

The gentle sound of water sloshing tells me she’s crawling in. Hot water laps at my chest as she settles, and suddenly sharing a hot tub with this woman who I barely know and can’t stop eye-fucking feels entirely inappropriate.

Altogether too personal.

“Ah,” she hums in pleasure.

I give in and glance across at her. Willa’s positioning mirrors mine almost perfectly. Her slender arms drape across the frame, and her face is tipped up to the navy-blue sky. My gaze snags on the exposed column of her throat. The elegant length of it. The way it’s positioned, open for the taking.

The way it moves when she swallows.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs without moving her head to address me.

“For what?” I rasp back, a little confused as to what she’s talking about. “I already told you it was fine for you to come in.” Even though I’m not so sure that’s true.

Tiny, flimsy straps lay across her collarbones and wrap around her shoulders. So easily ripped away.

“For doing the hillbilly lettuce thing.” She shakes her head, and another melodic laugh bubbles out of her, like she just can’t quite believe it. “I can’t believe I got duped by a five-year-old.”

My lips almost tug up at that. Hillbilly lettuce. “Well, you’ve worked with kids. I’m sure you know how to handle it.” I’m mentally patting myself on the back for complimenting her—sort of—

when she drops a bomb I didn’t see coming.

“I haven’t worked with kids at all.”

I go deathly still before pulling my arms down into the water and sitting up tall. “Pardon me?”

She must hear the bite in my voice because her head tips in my direction and her eyes narrow as she sits up too, the water droplets trailing down over her full chest, right into the valley between her breasts. I grind my teeth at letting my eyes follow and snap them back up to hers when she replies with, “Watch your step, Eaton.”

Swallowing, I stare at her from the opposite side of the tub, facing off. “Summer told me you had worked with children. She said you have, and I quote, ‘lots of experience working with rowdy boys.’”

I watch Willa’s expression transform from irritated to incredulous. “She didn’t.”

“She did.”

“Did she elaborate?” Willa scrubs a wet hand over her face and slides it up to the top of her hair, before hitting the twisted knot of her fiery strands. “Did you ask any further questions? God. I should have given you a resume or something. This is so awkward, even by my standards. And it takes a lot to make me uncomfortable.”

“So, you have how much experience working with kids?”

She barks out her surprise, strawberry lips parting in the most tempting way. “None. Zero. Zilch.

I’m a bartender.”

My fingers clench into fists beneath the water. “A bartender?”

“Yeah. I guess I do have lots of experience with rowdy boys, but not, ya know, children. Adult boys?”

“Summer is dead.”

Her lips press together and wiggle under the strain of holding back. Laughter erupts from her in the most enthralling way. I shouldn’t be charmed but she’s so genuinely amused. It’s hard to not be at least a little captivated.

Her head tilts back and the notes of her laugh drift into the surrounding night.

“It’s not funny,” I say, but I don’t mean it, really. I mean . . . it’s kind of funny. Just not haha funny.

“Looks like we both got tricked.” Her chuckles slow, and the dim light illuminates the fullness of her breasts, shimmering with dampness.

Scrubbing at my face with my hands, I groan. “Summer was so sick of me being picky that she tricked me into hiring a bartender.”

“Listen, if you want a resume or a criminal record check, I won’t complain. But I still think I can do this. I still think Luke and I can have fun this summer. I grew up with great parents, so I must have learned something from them.”

“Oh yeah?” I say from behind my hands, partly to hide my frustration and partly to give myself a break from how fucking stunning she looks sitting across from me in my hot tub. “What do your parents do? Do you come from a long line of bartenders?”

When she’s silent for too long, I move my palms back into the water. Willa’s lip is wedged between her teeth, and she’s eyeing me critically.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No. I’m just not convinced that the answer is going to make you feel any better.”

I roll my eyes and huff out a harsh breath before tipping my head back again. There is definitely going to be a criminal record check. “Try me.”

“Okay. My mom is a sex therapist.”

She has to be kidding me.