Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)

by Elsie Silver

If attitude were a person, she’d be it.

“Beg.” “Pardon me?” “You heard me.” Her lips don’t even twitch. She’s not joking at all. “Beg.”

The column of her throat shifts, and her eyes take on a slightly glassy quality. With a few soft steps, she comes to stand right in front of me. She smells like citrus and vanilla. Like some fancy pastry at the coffee shop in town. I can’t help but lean in just a little bit.

She draws close. It almost feels too close in the dimly lit room. Too intimate in the quiet house. It feels like the kind of moment where you could make a mistake and no one would ever know.

We’re still shaking hands. It’s a handshake that has lasted longer than is proper. It’s a threat or a promise—I’m just not sure which.

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?

“You can’t get fired. We like you too much!” “Who is we?” I ask, loading the dishwasher. And I freeze momentarily when his response is, “My dad and me.”

A little spot on his jaw pops, and I am dying. He is a miniature Cade. Take away eye color and the resemblance is uncanny. Hilarious.

I roll my eyes. “If I were kidnapping a child, I wouldn’t stop at a grocery store to buy five heads of lettuce first. I’m his nanny.”

Willa: Do you know what the first thing I did this morning was? Cade: Willa, I’m working. If everything is okay, we don’t need to chat. Willa: I put my panties on. Willa: Are you ignoring me? Willa: I figured you’d be proud. Day one and I’m knocking all the rules right out of the park. Cade: If I pay you more, will you stop texting me about this? Willa: Probably not. I don’t need the money. I’m just easily bored, and poking the bear is fun.

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.

This kid is going to be the death of me. And so is his goddamn nanny.

A smart man would say, Yes, please leave. That’s an excellent idea. I am not a smart man.

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.

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.

“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.”

“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.

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.

I’m afraid to look at her too closely if I’m being honest.

I pop a chip into my mouth and don’t bother looking at him from where I’m sprawled on the couch. I already know he’s scowling. I practically see that expression on the back of my eyelids every night when I try to fall asleep.

He stares at me, but rather than scowling, he appears a little perplexed. “No one has ever done my laundry for me.” “Probably because it’s not worth facing the electric chair over.”

stop i’m pissing myself with their interactions

“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.”

Luke presses in against my hip, and I absently wonder what Cade is thinking. “This fucking woman is going to be the death of me.” Okay. So that’s what he’s thinking. I take a strange sort of pride in his statement.

The door swings open, and he steps out onto the porch, which is right when Luke and I jump out from behind a planter. “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.

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.

When Luke talks, everyone listens.

Beau chuckles. “Well, you know. Boys will be b—” “No,” I cut him off. Because that saying is straight trash, and years of bartending have given me plenty of time to see boys being boys. Which really is just boys being shitheads. “Boys will be gentlemen.” I point my fork at the big army Ken doll sitting across from me.

you tell ‘em willa

Then I feel it. The scowl. My eyes shift, and Cade is staring right at me, bulging arms crossed over his impossibly broad chest. Biceps straining against his signature black T-shirt. And my cheeks heat for no good reason other than my body is a traitor and I’m probably ovulating.

I smile as politely as possible, refusing to glance at Summer. Because if I meet my best friend’s eye, I’m going to get the giggles. Uncontrollable giggles. Totally impolite. I can see her from my periphery, craning her neck to catch my eye, but I just toss the cloth napkin on the table beside my plate before following the same track as Cade.

As I approach, his scent sneaks up on me. Crushed pine needles and sunshine. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s that warm earth that I associate with digging in the garden on a sunny day. There’s nothing manufactured or store-bought about his scent—it’s pure outdoor masculinity.

Cade gasps and stands up straight, turning his attention to me. There are tears in his eyes, and I’m sure he’s smiling—he has to be—but he has a fist held up over his mouth.

He seems younger when he’s laughing. Lighter somehow. It makes me laugh too, and before I know it, we’re both standing there, regarding the clean, violated yard, having a chuckle together. And for once, Cade Eaton isn’t scowling at me.

“Eaton. You grumpy motherfucker. You just laughed,” I blurt. “Yeah, Red. I did.”

He turns to me and offers the most devastating smile. One that makes my stomach flip and my lips pop open in shock.

It’s like I just put glasses on for the first time and am seeing him in a completely different l...

She smiled back. It felt good. And now she’s in here giving that megawatt grin to other people, who are grinning back at her. And I feel like I want all her smiles for myself.

How hard would it be to smile more, to laugh more, if it made her look this happy?

I’m about to fight back, but Willa turning her strawberry lips up at me stops me in my tracks. “Come on. It will be good for you.” My brows knit together as I stare down at her. The nanny. The nanny. The nanny. The nanny. The nanny shouldn’t look this fucking good to me. The nanny shouldn’t know or tell me what’s good for me. And I shouldn’t listen. But I’m an idiot, so I respond with, “Fine.”

The small smile on Willa’s angelic face catches my eye, and without even thinking, I give her a small one back.

There’s something kind of . . . magical about her. Her laugh, her voice, the fluidity of her movements. It’s not sexual, it’s just an appeal I can’t quite put my finger on.

I guess she has no way of knowing it’s a struggle for me to keep my eyes off her when she interacts with Luke, even harder to keep her image from popping up in my mind when I fist my cock in the shower.

The girl is growing on me, like a vine wrapping up around an old oak. And for once, I’m not sure I mind.

She smiles, still staring at me hard. Amused. Glowing. She’s goddamn breathtaking. The rest of the bar fades away, and with a little shake of my head, I give her a reluctant smile and drop her gaze.

I peek at her and notice the way she’s watching other people on the dance floor. People who are definitely watching us. Because grumpy Cade Eaton never dances. When I come here, I nurse a beer and glare at any woman who comes my way. It’s worked well for me so far. But Willa Grant is shaking my shit up.

“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.”

She’s out of my league, and I’d be an asshole to drag her down into mine.

Summer: Did you leave with Cade? Willa: Yeah. Summer: You could have stayed with me! We’re getting a cab. Willa: Nah. Cade’s hotter. Went home with him instead. Summer: Lol. Summer: Wait. Are you joking? I can’t tell. Willa: Save a horse, ride a cowboy. Summer: I still can’t tell.

The weight of his gaze has my entire body humming. The intensity in his eyes. I feel like he’s trying to light me on fire with his glare alone.

“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.

“Fuck the patriarchy.”