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She smiles over at Summer now, my little brother’s fiancée, before adding, “You know how it is. We all need some sort of feminine hobbies, don’t we?”
Summer’s lips roll together, and she offers a small, fake smile. “Yes, of course.” I almost snort. Summer’s idea of feminine entertainment is squatting heavy plates at the gym and torturing grown men in the name of “personal training.” She’s lying through her fucking teeth, but it’s possible she’s still new enough in town that Lucy doesn’t know.
And bedside manner isn’t my strong suit. I’m more of a rip-the-band-aid off type.
“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.”
“What about someone from another town? Someone who doesn’t know our family. And all my shit. Someone who hasn’t slept with one of my brothers.” My nose wrinkles. “Or my dad.”
“Why not? He’s my grandson.” “Exactly. That’s what your relationship should remain. You’ve done enough helping with him for his entire life. Your back, your knees—you need a rest. You can still have your fun days with him any time you want. But you don’t need to run yourself into the ground with long hours, early mornings, and possibly late nights. It’s not fair, and I’m not taking advantage of you that way. End of story.” Then I turn back to my future sister-in-law. “Summer, can’t you just do it? You’d be perfect. Luke loves you. You don’t like me. You already live on the ranch.”
She groans as my fingers unfurl. And slowly but surely, I figure out why she’s acting so horrified over me being a gentleman and picking up her . . . Panties.
“You forgot your . . .” I trail off because I refuse to shout this across the coffee shop full of people I have to face day in, day out.
“Finders keepers,” she says with a shrug.
And when I glance back down at my open palm, it hits me she’s long gone. I have no idea what her name is, and I’m still here . . . Holding her panties.
“Cade is the panty guy?” “I’m not the panty guy,”
“For fuck’s sake.” The grump runs a broad hand through his hair in frustration. “I am not the panty guy.”
All I know is that she makes my dick twitch, she talks too much, and she has a spare pair of underwear in her purse.
My life would be a lot less complicated if she hadn’t waltzed into Chestnut Springs this morning. My dick would be a lot softer too.
“Sounds like her loss, because you might be the coolest kid I’ve ever met.” She doesn’t use a sad voice, or a baby voice, she just talks to him like a normal human being. “Fucking hell,” I curse under my breath because she just practically hired herself.
All thick arms and broad chest and furrowed brow. Dirty boots. Muscular thighs. Cowboy porn with a frown.
I’ll take a boozy brunch with my bestie and a dirty book in bed by eight for a thousand, Alex.
Older guys. They’ve always done it for me.
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.”
“I will send you texts. I will keep him mostly sugar free. But if you act like a dick, I’m going to call you out on it.”
Willa: I just got up. Cade: Okay? Willa: I’m making coffee. Cade: Alright. Willa: I’m getting dressed for the day. Panties? CHECK. Cade: Too much information. Willa: Luke is now awake. Cade: Oh good. Willa: He peed. Cade: The bed? Willa: No. In the toilet. Sounded like a big one. Like when Austin Powers comes out of being frozen or whatever. Cade: Why are you telling me this? Willa: Just keeping you apprised of *everything we do!!!* Cade: I already regret telling you that. Willa: Oh, I’m just getting started. Cade: Willa. Willa: Remember that time you BEGGED me to stay?
“Summer is dead.”
“No one has ever done my laundry for me.” “Probably because it’s not worth facing the electric chair over.”
When I walked into the dining room, Cade pulled a chair out and stared at me until I figured out he meant me to sit there. After I did, he tucked me into the table and one of his calloused hands brushed casually—mistakenly—over my bare neck.
“ . . . Today I got to tidying up around the property a bit. There were leaves everywhere, so I gave the yard a good blow job.”
“You not wearing ear protection at the shooting range? I said the yard was a mess. Next time you can make yourself useful and blow it yourself, Beau.”
“Wanted to come see what a well-blown yard looks like, huh?” I ask. “Willa—” He can barely get my name out. It’s a breath. It’s a wheeze.
“It does look great out here. Your dad could suck the chrome off of a—”
“I wonder if he’s sore. He really put his back into it.”
And for once, Cade Eaton isn’t scowling at me.
“Eaton. You grumpy motherfucker. You just laughed,” I blurt. “Yeah, Red. I did.”
“Daddy Cade, you’re a whole lot prettier when you smile.”
“What’s the best thing about a blow job?” “Good lord, woman. Just stop.”
“The joke’s on you though. I wouldn’t last ten minutes and just because you’d be quiet doesn’t mean I would be.”
Save a horse, ride a cowboy.
His expression doesn’t say crawl onto my lap and ride me. It says help me.
“I dare you to do those rodeos and let me take care of Luke while you do.”
Jealousy of a bathing suit is a new feeling for me.
Then she turns and walks back toward her bedroom, holds one fist up above her head, and says, “Fuck the patriarchy.”
“I know what I’m doing, Dad.” Luke rolls his eyes and continues to chop a cucumber in the stupidest way imaginable.
Is it stupider than the way kendall jenner does it?
“Let’s put some different music on for Willa.” It’s the perfect opportunity to get rid of whatever this happy, danceable shit is. Horrified, Luke asks me what's wrong with “Watermelon Sugar”, but before I can answer, Willa tilts her head at me and says, “Yeah, Cade. You got something against Harry Styles?”
Whats wrong with Harry?!?!?!
What I want to say is wholly inappropriate. You’re beautiful. How was your night out? I’m sorry I haven’t been leaving enough coffee for you in the morning.
The most trivial little details have me obsessing over her.
The first line is something about strawberries and summer evenings, which is fitting, because her strawberry red lips move, and I’m entranced.
I pour myself a cup, and it tastes better just because he made it. Just because he left everything out, knowing I was waiting for him to leave. Because he listened to what I told him.
Luke giggles at the f-bombs flying left and right. And I feel it then. All eyes swivel in my direction, the men straightening or clearing their throats, like I’ve never heard a swear word in my life. Leave it to Cade to make me seem like some fragile princess. I wave in their general direction and offer a friendly smile as I drawl, “Nice to fuckin’ meet y’all.”
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.
“Life lesson, shithead. Careful who you pick a fight with. Someone insane might love them.”
Willa might be a bit of a psycho—after all, she did just push a child into the pool—but the more time I spend with her, the more I feel like she’s my psycho.
