Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance(18)

“And my dad is the lead singer for Full Stop.”

I sit up straight. “Come again?”

“Do you need to get your hearing checked? My dad had to get hearing aids pretty young after going on tour and playing too loud.”

Mouthy.

“I heard you. I just . . .” I shake my head. “A sex therapist and a famous rock star raised you and this somehow qualifies you to take care of my kid?”

“Why not? They’re exceptional parents. Don’t get all weird now. People always get weird when they find out Ford Grant is my dad.”

I glare at her.

“You’re not some psycho superfan, are you? I had you pegged for a Garth Brooks kind of fella.”

My jaw ticks.

“Songs about your truck breaking down. Your dog dying. Your woman leaving you for another man.”

She laughs, oblivious to the fact that she just ripped open the stitches of a wound that has been painfully slow to heal. And not because I miss Talia, just because there are only so many hits a man’s pride can take.

It only takes a couple of moments for a sober, awkward silence to stretch between us. I’m not doing a great job of keeping things friendly. It’s not my forte.

I’m not playful, I’m responsible. That’s all I’ve ever been allowed to be. That’s what my family has needed me to be.

Green irises glowing, she looks at me in the most unnerving way. “How far down my throat is my foot right now?”

“You’re pretty much digesting it at this point,” I deadpan.

“Well, shit. It’s going to be hard to chase your kid around all summer like this.”

I huff out a gravelly breath, grateful that she isn’t pushing for more information about the hot fucking mess that is my personal life.

“Do you want me to leave? I would understand if you did.”

“No,” slips out a little too quickly, and I’m not even sure why. I should want her to leave, but I don’t. Luke already likes her, she’s already here, and we’ve already had it out. Plus, she’s substantially less annoying than almost any other option available to me. “It’s fine. Just get me an autograph to make it up.”

She blinks at me. “Was that a joke?”

“No.”

Her foot slides across the vinyl bottom of the hot tub and brushes against mine. “That was a joke.”

“It wasn’t.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. Maybe I should be madder about this. Maybe I should send her home. But the thought of going back and undoing everything that’s already been done feels exhausting.

There’s something freeing in just . . . letting it go.

“It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone you made a joke. I’ll get you an autograph and keep your reputation as The World’s Grumpiest Rancher completely intact.”

“Willa, you’re making me regret hiring you.”

She points at me. “Yes. Exactly. What joke? No jokes here.”

She’s carefree. She’s funny. She’s got a smart sense of humor that I like even though I refuse to show it. And she spends the next twenty minutes telling me stories about growing up as the child of a household name. She talks and I listen. And now and then, when one of us shifts in the small hot tub, our feet brush.

It’s innocent contact. Or at least it should be. We don’t look at each other when it happens. I’m afraid to look at her too closely if I’m being honest.

But it still sends sparks up my legs.

And when we get out, I do the gentlemanly thing and offer her a hand so that she doesn’t slip.

But that’s just before I do the distinctly ungentlemanly thing where I let my eyes ravage her tight body. I soak up every curve and try to burn it into my mind so that I never feel the urge to devour the sight of her like this again.

I imagine her wearing those simple black panties that are still in my kitchen drawer.

My dick swells fast and hard enough that I wrap a towel around myself and disappear inside without saying goodnight.

Because I’m just so fucking gentlemanly.





8


Willa


Willa: I can’t believe you didn’t tell Cade I’m a bartender and not some professional Mary Poppins.

Summer: He was being insane about the entire process. You’re perfect for the job. Luke is gonna love you.

Willa: OBVIOUSLY. I’m very loveable. Unless your name is Cade Eaton. Then I’m the object of all your exaggerated scowling.

Summer: He has different scowls. Haven’t you figured that out yet?

Willa: That’s insane. I’m not paid enough to decipher a man’s scowls. Here’s the new deal. If your shitty version of matchmaker doesn’t work out, you’re the new nanny. End of story. And you’re going to do it with a smile. They need help.

Summer: Adorable. You’re already protective.

T he screen door bangs shut loudly, which means Cade is home. Crabby Cade stomping in after a long day of doing god knows what with a bunch of cows and cowboys.

“Welcome home, Master Cade,” I announce with a flourish as he walks into the kitchen, shooting me a scowl. An annoyed scowl?

“What are you doing? And why are you calling me that?” Cade’s voice rumbles dangerously.