Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)

by Elsie Silver

“Will she fall in love with me?” Summer snorts in the most unladylike way. “No.” Her certainty should probably offend me, but I’m not bothered by it. I push off the counter and twirl a finger around. “Perfect. Let’s do it up,” I tell her as I march out the back door toward my house and away from the clusterfuck that is finding a capable nanny for a five-year-old boy. I just need someone to get in and get out. Someone professional and complication free. It’s only two months. It shouldn’t be that hard.

But my mind is wandering in ways I haven’t let it in literal years. So maybe I’m meant to just enjoy the ride. Maybe it’s okay to let myself feel something. “I’ll grab a medium, extra hot, no foam, half sweet . . .” My eyes subtly roll back in my head as I tip the brim of my black hat down. Of course, the outsider with the rocking body must have an annoyingly long and complicated drink order.

I’m officially a creepy old man. My eyes trail down to my fist, the soft fabric poking out from between my fingers. 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.

She turns and presses her back into the door as she leaves, holding my eyes for a beat, barely contained amusement touching every feature. “Finders keepers,” she says with a shrug.

“Of course. They’re my spares. You know I don’t like wearing panties. But now and then, the need arises, you know?” Summer narrows her gaze in my direction. “I have that need every day.”

And I have questions. Lots of questions. 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.

I step onto the porch, seeing red. No one else in my family has red hair, and I don’t know if it’s to blame for my fiery side, but I have been known to fly off the handle and hold a hell of a grudge.

Rhett glances over at me and grins. “Willa Grant is good shit, brother. If she’s offering to take care of our boy for the summer, you’d be an idiot to turn her down. I don’t know many people more loyal than her. She’s got a big heart.”

The universe blessed me with two badass parents. Ones who would crawl through glass to get to me. I want to be that kind of mother one day. Fierce. Fearless.

The similarities in their body language are impossible to miss. But where Rhett is all smiles, Cade is all scowls. All thick arms and broad chest and furrowed brow. Dirty boots. Muscular thighs. Cowboy porn with a frown.

I even like the little shimmer of silver strands dusted throughout his dark hair. Older guys. They’ve always done it for me.

“You rule with an iron fist, Daddy Eaton.” I groan, cheeks pinching up in distaste. “That’s what we call my dad.” A silent puff of air slips from her lips, the bottom one more full than the top. “Daddy Cade it is.”

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

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.

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.”

Our server, Bailey, swings by once we’re seated. The girl works her ass off here and at the hospital as a porter. It’s like every ounce of focus and drive that could be shared by her family was all just packed into her. The Jansens own the farm next to us, and she’s the youngest of them. The best of them. The only one without a criminal record, most likely.

“Lance Henderson.” “Willa Grant. Pleasure to meet you.” His smile transforms into a smirk I recognize well from watching him pick up buckle bunnies when we were younger. “Oh darling, the pleasure is all mine.” I like Lance. He’s a good guy, and he’s charming as all get out, but I don’t like him charming my nanny.

Red. It’s not the first time a person has taken to calling me that. Usually it’s regulars at the bar. Usually it’s a casual nickname. But with Cade, it feels different. I like it. Feels like he has a special name for me. I’m so lame.

Her lean fingers move across the string seamlessly, stretching and flexing with every note she strums. And then her voice kicks in, and it’s a shot to the gut. Raspy and sweet, all at once. Shy and sure. Quiet and strong. Just like 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 snort. Oh, I feel like getting my back broken alright. By him. Not a horse.

“Somebody needs to explain right from wrong in terms he can understand,” Willa says over her shoulder to the red-cheeked mom. “Or did you miss the part where he pushed Luke into the pool and held his head under water?” “It was a joke! You’re out of line, and you will not speak another word to him.” Luke’s tear-stained face tells me he wasn’t in on the joke. Willa rises slowly, almost predatory in her movements, as she turns and arches a brow at the woman. “Oh, no?” “Not another word.” “Fine.” Willa smiles but it’s a scary smile. And then, with one well-placed hip check, the birthday boy goes flying into the water.

“Life lesson, shithead. Careful who you pick a fight with. Someone insane might love them.”

Willa might be a bit of 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.

“But then, you go and turn a cap backward and give me the full rough-around-the-edges country-boy experience. Do you know how hot that is? I can’t even explain it.”

“Hat forward. Cute.” Her free hand mimics grabbing the brim of a cap and turning it backward. “Hat backward? Game on. It’s like a switch.”

Truthfully, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. All I know is that I want to savor this. Savor her. Because I have a sinking feeling that when we step out of these bales, things will look a lot different.

I feel safe when I’m scowling, but it’s getting harder and harder to look at Willa Grant without smiling. It’s with a smile on my lips that I lean in and press my mouth to hers.

Heartless. That’s what Talia called me in her letter. And I believed her. I still do.

“Have you tried talking to him?” I blink at her. “Talking?” “Yes. You know . . . where you use your mouth to create words that describe what’s going through your head.” “Sounds weird. Sounds awkward. Don’t like it. Not approved by me.”

He sighs when I press a kiss to his hair without even thinking. I don’t know what’s appropriate anymore. I know he’s not my kid, but he feels like mine in some little way. He feels like mine enough to comfort him when he’s sick.

But those thoughts come to a screeching halt when I step into my darkened room and see copper hair floating across my pillows. The light from the hallway illuminates her creamy, pale arm wrapped around Luke’s tiny body.

At his core, Cade is a caretaker. Selfless. With such a big heart I almost can’t wrap my head around it.

“Come on, Red. I tried to be a gentleman and respect your wishes, but your wishes are bullshit. I stayed out of here as long as I could, and it drove me crazy to do it. I’m not leaving you sleeping on my bathroom floor.”

For someone who grew up privileged, there’s an inherent practicality about Willa. Something in the way her mind works. I see it when she talks to Luke. She’s not prissy or high maintenance. She’s down to earth, and I love that about her.

“Red, don’t marry a man who rolls his eyes at you.” “You roll your eyes at me all the time.” Fuck, I need to stop doing that. She deserves better. “Don’t marry me either.”

Jasper freezes for the briefest moment. “Sloane is coming?”

“Who is Sloane?” “Our cousin,” Rhett says right as Jasper says, “Their cousin. My friend.”

“I think I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try. I think you’re too damn tempting and that I’m too damn complicated. I think you smell like him, and I can’t fucking stand that.”

“Keep talking like that and I’m going to fuck the filth right out of your pretty mouth.”

When he murmurs, “That’s my girl,” while looking me in the eye, nothing in the world has felt more right.

“Fuck, Red. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Jesus, Willa.” I smile at the breathless state of his voice. Cade Eaton is about to learn that the trick to a good blow job is enjoying giving them. And I love it.

“Now, get on your back. I want to watch you squirm while I taste you for the first time.”

“Baby, it’s going to fit. You were made for me.”

“No, Willa. I like you. I care about you. I didn’t go without sex for years just to start it back up randomly. I had opportunities, and I turned them down because I wasn’t interested. We don’t need to make a show of it, and with Luke around, we probably shouldn’t. But I’m interested in you. I don’t know where that leaves us or what it all means. All I know is that it’s going to fucking wreck me when you leave at the end of this summer, but I’m too far gone to care.”

“Hey, Willa?” “Hey, Luke,” I reply dryly, since the be quiet part obviously didn’t register. “Sometimes I wish you were my mom.”

“Okay, that’s it. You’re both dead.” Cade points at us, spinning his cap backward and hitting me with a wink. Dick. He knows it kills me when he wears it like that. Murder me with your dick, please, sir.

“How did you grow up so fast?” I hear Rhett snort. Loud. Loud enough that she turns a venomous glare at him. He just smiles back. “Hi, Talia. Long time no see.”

“What will do it?” I give her the fakest smile I can muster as I turn to walk away. “I’m not in hell yet, lady. Don’t need to spend my time hanging out with the devil.”