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She sighs. “Listen, that’s everyone we’ve interviewed. I went out of my way to weed out the applicants who seemed less interested in spending time with Luke and more interested in spending time with . . . you.” “Hoo boy”—Dad slaps the table—“and there were several. Who knew women would willingly sign up to endure your scowls and bad moods? The pay isn’t that good.”
But they all evaporate from my mind the minute the front door swings open, and I’m left standing stupidly in the middle of the dirt walkway, gawking at the man from the coffee shop. The one I left my panties with.
“Cade!” Summer starts in, oblivious to the death glare he’s pinning me with. “This is my best friend, Willa. Your new nanny.” “No,” is his only reply. “What do you mean, no?” “I mean, over my dead body.” Condescension drips from his words.
“And I don’t care if you’re her best friend. You smell like beer and your panties are still in my back pocket. You’re not taking care of my son.” My eyes narrow, and my lips curve up at his misstep. “You saving them for later?”
I wink at him, watching fiery red splotches crop up on the apples of his cheeks and seep out across the immaculate bone structure hidden beneath that beard and scowl.
“Cade is the panty guy?” “I’m not the panty guy,” he interjects, but Summer and I ignore him. “Yeah. And you said that any sane man would have thrown them out. So you know what that means.” We’re grinning at each other like crazy people now, and before I know it, a giggle slips from between Summer’s lips. And before long, she’s doubled over, hands on her knees, gasping for air.
Summer painted them bright red, cheerful just like her. They remind me of Willa’s hair. Fucking lame.
I’ll take a boozy brunch with my bestie and a dirty book in bed by eight for a thousand, Alex.
Cade says my name like it’s a demand. “You need to wear proper undergarments while you’re at work. You can’t be dropping them out of your purse around a child.” I swear my feet grow roots and my jaw drops. The fucking nerve.
I plaster on the sweetest smile I can muster and turn to look back over my shoulder. “I’ll be ready for your inspection tomorrow, boss.” Then I wink and saunter away, feeling the weight of his gaze on my body and knowing he’s probably wondering if I’m wearing any undergarments right now.
I heave the suitcase out just in time to watch them walk hand in hand into my house, and for some reason, I stop and watch. Unable to look away. Lots of people have walked through that front door. But somehow this feels different.
“Beg.” “Pardon me?” “You heard me.” Her lips don’t even twitch. She’s not joking at all. “Beg.”
“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.”
“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.
This kid is going to be the death of me. And so is his goddamn nanny.
“Anyone ever told you that you’re rude?” is all he comes back with. I grin at him before turning back to the TV and cranking the volume. “Says the guy who still hasn’t given my panties back.”
“Boo!” I shout, as Luke yells, “Chipmunks!” Cade flies back, and I glance down at Luke, wondering what the hell would inspire him to randomly scream chipmunks. But I don’t think about that for long, because when I look back up Cade’s stern face is the color of a tomato and he’s wearing his beer down the front of his fresh T-shirt. Oh yeah. We got him good. All I offer is a lame attempt at a joke. “Wet T-shirt contest?” And all I get back is a scowl.
“Eaton. You grumpy motherfucker. You just laughed,” I blurt. “Yeah, Red. I did.”
My lids fall shut as reality comes crashing back in. It doesn’t matter how good her hands feel on my body. The divide between us is too much. It’s too wide. She’s out of my league, and I’d be an asshole to drag her down into mine. But when we hop back into the truck and she peeks over at me and says, “You’re an amazing dad. I hope you know that,” I want to drag her down right on the spot.
“Truth or dare,” he bites out. “Truth,” I reply, not sure I can handle another dare or where it might take us. His brows furrow and his eyes narrow on mine. “What are you thinking right now?” “That I like sitting here with your eyes on me.” “Fuck,” he groans, running a wet hand over his face and through his dark hair before tossing his head back and polishing off the dregs of the bourbon.
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.
“You’re a good man, Cade Eaton. Quite possibly one of the best.” Her voice is so soft that I barely hear it.
I snort. Oh, I feel like getting my back broken alright. By him. Not a horse.
Cade is the embodiment of actions speaking louder than words.
wink at him. “Thank you for the coffee. I’m ready for you to break my back.” His face pales, like he realizes how I could have interpreted his note. “I meant you could ride if you wanted to.” “Oh, I want to.” Heat flares on his cheeks. I shouldn’t prod the bear like this, but it’s just who I am. I like to watch him squirm.
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,
“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.
“Are you gonna make a move, Eaton? Or just stand here petting me?”
The only way we converse is via text message or the Post-it notes he leaves around the house.”
“Yeah. He’ll walk in when Luke and I are cleaning up after making a batch of cookies and say nothing about it. Just talk to Luke. But then in the morning he’ll leave a note by the coffee that says, Best cookies I’ve ever had.”
“Willa. You will not mess it up. You need to believe in yourself. You’re smart. You’re capable. You’re determined. I know you are because you made me like you when I swore I never would.”
“Come on, lean forward a bit.” I don’t know why he wants me to do this, but it seems like he’s not leaving until I do, so I comply, even though the rebellious part of me wants to lean back and say, Make me. It would seem nausea easily quells the rebellious part of me. “That’s my girl.” His deep voice vibrates through my bones, and then his fingers are in my hair, gently combing it back into a ponytail and wrapping a soft silk scrunchy around it. One he must have fished out of my drawer.
“That’s the thing, Red. There are too many fuckin’ strings with you. Enough to strangle us both. So we’re going to be responsible and ignore whatever this is between us. Because a month from now, we’ll be parting ways. You’re going to live some fabulous, wildly successful life in the city, and I’m going to be here, taking care of this place for the rest of my days. We’re on different paths, you and me.”
“Let’s go give the old man some ass pats for putting on such a good show.” “He’s probably going to need a massage tomorrow,” Jasper tosses back. “Willa can do that for him,” Luke slides in casually. And we all freeze. Rhett looks like a goddamn dog with a bone. “Oh yeah? Have Willa and your dad been swapping massages?” “No. Just beds.” I make a choking sound, and Jasper holds a fist up over his mouth.
“I’ve watched you with my son. I’ve watched you, period. I’ve longed for you.
“You’ve got it bad, boy,” is what he says, clapping me on the shoulder as I move past him. And he’s never been more right.
“Hey, Willa?” “Hey, Luke,” I reply dryly, since the be quiet part obviously didn’t register. “Sometimes I wish you were my mom.” I blink at the boy, too stunned to speak, so he continues. “At that birthday party? Where I got held under the water? He told me that even my mom didn’t like me.” I want to push that kid into the water all over again. “Well, I don’t just like you, Luke.” My voice comes out thick with emotion, but I’m not so sure he picks up on it. “I love you.” “You do?” His smile is shy—tentative. “Yeah. And that kid is a major shithead.” His hand slaps over his mouth and his eyes
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“I love Luke. You love Luke. And the three of us feel right together.
At the end of this summer, you’ll leave, but you’ll be back. Because there’s no way in hell that this ends here. I won’t allow it. We’re going to figure this out. You got me?”
It hits me hard as we drive in a companionable silence that Willa is that person. My person.
So instead, I just sit here. Thinking about my options. About how Willa is the only option I want. And about how I’ll respect her wishes until I can’t take it anymore. Then I’m throwing her over my shoulder and bringing her home.
“Just don’t make him wait too long, Wils,” she whispers against my ear. “He is heartbroken without you.”
I put the Jeep back into drive and head straight for Cade’s little red house. The little red house with a freshly poured sidewalk out front. The little red house with a sweet dark-haired boy strumming his guitar on the front step. The little red house with a man who makes my heart race and my cheeks heat just by scowling at me the way he is now. And I have to wonder if it’s not a scowl at all. Because the expression is so full of love, so full of longing, that the muscles in my chest seize and I rush to park so that I can be out of this vehicle and breathing the same air as them. My boys.
“And then up here”—Luke drags me toward the house—“we wrote our initials inside the hearts.” “I love that!” I exclaim, giving him a firm side hug. He nods happily, biting at his lip, and looking so damn proud. “And this one is yours.” He points at a heart that’s right next to one with the initials C.E., except this one says W.E. “My initials are W.G., bud.” I give him another squeeze and he giggles. Cluelessly. “I know. But dad made that one. I told him the same thing.” My head snaps around to Cade, who still hasn’t moved but is staring at me like I might disappear if he blinks. “But he said
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A sigh lifts and then drops his small shoulders as he glances down at his cookie. “Do you think . . .” He peers back up at me now. “Do you think it would be okay if I called you mom too?”
