Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance
Heartless: Chapter 10

Beau: Dude. You look like you’re trying to kill someone with the power of your stare.

Beau: Do you have a special superpower I don’t know about?

Cade: Why are you texting me from the same table?

Beau: Because you’re too terrifying to talk to.

Cade: I hope our nation’s enemies don’t replace out what a pussy you are.

Beau: That’s rude. I think I’ll go dance with the nanny. She seems nice.

Beau: Yikes. Is that face special for me? Wanna go outside and blow off some steam like when we were kids?

Cade: No. You act like a chucklehead, but you know how to kill people with your bare hands. I’m not dumb enough to fight you.

Cade: Stop grinning at me like that. It’s weird.

Ispend the next ten minutes hating myself for walking away. Approximately four songs fit into a ten-minute window, and watching Willa dance with four different men is four men too many.

Ten minutes too long.

She’s all smiles and swagger. I watched her lips move almost the entire time. The bottom one is a little fuller than the top. If she wasn’t smiling all the time, it would give her a pouty sort of look. But there is nothing pouty about Willa Grant.

She’s a spark in the dark. Dancing flames against a midnight sky. She shines brighter than almost anyone in this entire place with her glossy hair, bright dress, and twinkling green eyes.

And she’s the fucking nanny, which means I shouldn’t be counting songs and minutes like some sort of possessive psycho, when all I’ve been to her for over a week is a grumpy asshole.

Doesn’t stop me from breathing a sigh of relief when she shakes hands with whatever asshole just stole two and a half minutes of her life and waves goodnight to him.

When she gets back to our table, I can see the rosy blush on her cheeks, a little perspiration shimmering at her temples, a wayward strand of copper hair sticking to her glossed bottom lip.

Summer says something to her, but it’s hard to hear over the blaring music and constant chatter. Her laughter draws my gaze right as she plunks down beside me without sparing me a glance.

She sits closer this time though. Teasing that center line of the couch. I’m reminded of that night I followed her to her room and stared down at the line on the floor.

Lines I shouldn’t cross. Lines I shouldn’t even be spending this long staring at.

She reaches forward for her beer, and as she does, she places a palm on my thigh to catch her balance, and all those lines blur in my mind. Because all I can see is how petite her hand is on my leg. And all I can feel is the roil of heat seeping into my muscles. The slow swell in my pants.

Suddenly I’m not measuring time. I’m measuring inches, because her hand is mere inches away from feeling just how much I don’t dislike her. Not even one bit.

Then her hand is gone and I’m stuck staring at her lips. The way her throat works as she takes a deep swallow of beer.

With a sigh, she leans back, appraising the bar before her, and announces, “This place is fun.”

I clear my throat, grasping for something to talk about. “Is this like the bar you work at?”

She smiles so easily. It just rolls off her like she doesn’t even think about it. It’s incredible. “No. Not at all. I actually manage my brother’s business. It’s this old theater that he turned into a live music venue downtown. Cleared out the seats. Spring loaded the dance floor. And we book in all sorts of awesome bands. If there’s no show, it’s just a regular bar—a quiet night for the regulars.”

I can one hundred percent see Willa in a setting like that. “And why aren’t you working there now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Brother blew up. He started a record label and picked some good nobodies. Turned them into somebodies. So he decided to renovate the venue even though he’s never there anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to stop paying you.”

She waves a hand and takes another sip. “Oh, nah. He didn’t. I’d pull his pretty-boy hair if he did. But that place is also basically my social life. Truthfully, I was lonely in the city. It’s nice to be around people—your family.”

It’s fascinating to me, listening to someone so uninhibited talk. Someone who says what’s on her mind without concern, who laughs so freely.

It’s addictive having her attention on me. I wonder if Luke feels like this too?

“Yeah. They’re alright.” I look over at my brothers, watching Beau and Rhett and Jasper joke together, like they have since they were teenagers. I’m always sad when Beau leaves on tour, even though I don’t tell him. He always says it will be his mission—that he’ll leave the military when he he’s back.

And then he goes again.

I think that’s his addiction.

“I’m close with my family,” Willa says. “Closer than lots of people. But we all live parallel lives now that my brother and I are adults, whereas you guys are all up in each other’s business. It’s charming. I can see why Summer loves it out here.”

“Yeah. She fits in. That’s for sure.” We both glance over. Summer is in Rhett’s lap, and everyone is listening to Beau tell a story, his hands moving animatedly as he does. Everyone except Jasper, who to the average onlooker might seem like he’s listening, but I know better.

He’s slipped into the past. Eyes and head somewhere else entirely. Sometimes he still looks like the devastated little boy we took in. I wonder if he relives that day as often as I relive our mother’s death?

My head steers in Luke’s direction, and I wonder what he’s doing. If he’s happy. If he’s warm. I know he’s with my dad, but the anxiety around keeping him safe is real for me. I often ponder whether he worries I’ll abandon him like his mom did.

I worry I’ll leave him the way our mom left us. Suddenly. Tragically.

Now I don’t feel like being out at all. I want to be home, with him tucked in safely in the room next to me or—as still often happens on weekends—in the same bed as me. Because for all his wildness, Luke is a cuddler. Softhearted beneath it all.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” I say to Willa. “You okay to catch a ride with the others?”

She starts at my change of subject, but she also doesn’t miss a beat and slides her pint glass onto the table, this time touching my knee as she does. “Nah. I’d rather go with you.”

I know she doesn’t mean it the way I’m thinking. That she’d literally rather spend time with me than out with everyone else.

But it’s kind of nice to dream about all the same.

The ride back to the ranch is quiet. Willa watches out the window like the dark, flat fields are super interesting. She went from boisterous and social at the bar to silent and introspective as soon as we got in the truck.

I wish I had the balls to ask her what she’s thinking. But I don’t.

I’m worried she’ll bring up what I said to her on the dance floor. I’m worried she’ll ask me about us again. I’m worried my attraction to her is becoming all too obvious. And I don’t want to become the creepy dad hitting on the babysitter.

Even though she’s twenty-five and clearly isn’t doing this because she needs the money.

“Hey . . .” I say, examining the dark road in front of me harder than is necessary.

Her head quirks in my direction, and in the truck’s dark cab, she’s all creamy skin and soft hair.

“Do you mind if we check in at the main house and make sure everything is okay with Luke?”

I don’t want to sound like some insane helicopter parent. I try so hard not to be, even though I’m freaking out internally ninety percent of the time, hoping I’m doing this whole parenting thing right, often wishing I had someone to do it with, to explain my fears and failings to. Instead, I just close my eyes and hold on for dear life. Say a prayer that I can keep him alive into adulthood.

Her features soften, not a stitch of judgment on her face. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Sorry. I know it’s your weekend now. You’re probably sick of dealing with him.”

She chuckles and toes off her shoes before putting one bare foot on the dash. My eyes leave the road for a moment, noting the pink polish on her toes and the delicate bone in her ankle. “Actually, no. I have fun hanging out with Luke. Kinda missed the little fella tonight.”

“Yeah? You’d rather play Dinosaur Ranch than go out with friends for drinks?”

She shrugs, looking out the window again. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve been working in a bar since I turned eighteen. The allure isn’t what it once was. I feel like I’m ready for something new. I’m just not sure what.”

“Did you go to college?”

She turns, offering a saucy wink. “Just the school of life.”

I snort. “Same. But you seem like the post-secondary type. Smart. Wealthy. Well-connected.”

Her head quirks as she assesses me. “That’s funny, in like, a very judgmental sort of way. But I’ve never really enjoyed school. I’m sure if I’d applied myself, I could have done better. But I was always more interested in riding my horse. Or being on the road with my parents. Or learning to manage a bar with my older brother. School is always there if I want to go back. But I’m a firm believer that learning doesn’t always happen in the classroom.”

“I like that,” I reply gruffly, nodding. “And sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Because she’s right. I’ve done nothing but judge her since the moment I first saw her.

And that’s a real dick move.

One she doesn’t deserve.

“Luke and I had a lot of fun researching which plants we could grow this week. I think he learned a lot. I did too. Guitar was a huge hit. Do you mind if we do some horseback riding next week?”

My chest warms at the thought of her planting in the yard with him, showing him an instrument. Skills and memories that will last a lifetime. Giving him undivided attention that he deserves. “Yeah. Of course. He’d love that.”

A pleased smile touches her lips, and she lets out a little humming noise.

“He’s been invited to a birthday party in a few weeks too,” I tell her. “It starts earlier than I can get there. Do you think you’d be okay with taking him and then I’ll come right after work and tag you out?”

“Yeah. For sure. Just let me know where I’m going.” We turn into the driveway and pull up to the house before she adds, “Or leave me a trail of lettuce and we’ll just follow it.”

I shake my head and stifle a laugh as I hop out of my black pickup and bound toward the front door of the sprawling farmhouse. There’s still a warm glow inside, and I see the flicker of the TV through the front porch window.

I open the door and peek in.

“You’re not even going to knock?” Willa asks from behind me. I start, thinking she’d have stayed in the car, and her hand falls to the middle of my back. But this time, I don’t even freeze. I flex my shoulders back, kind of liking the familiar way she touches me. I’ve seen it with Luke too. She’s just an affectionate person.

A hugger, probably.

“And risk waking him up? Hell no.” Craning my head and taking a step forward, I try to focus on what’s going on in the house, but replace myself entirely wrapped up in the way her fingers feel trailing down my spine when I step away. The way I shiver under her touch when I’m not cold at all.

My tongue darts out over my lips as I enter the house, all too aware of her body pressing in close behind mine to peek over my shoulder into the living room, where some cartoon movie is still playing.

To where my dad and Luke are curled up on the couch together. Asleep.

A bowl of popcorn is on the table, along with a tub of ice cream that is now more of a milkshake than anything else.

“How precious are they?” Willa whispers behind me.

I can’t help but smile. Looking at Luke always makes me smile. It has since I felt that first little kick. Since I could see the little bulge of a foot pressing out on Talia’s stomach.

She complained it was uncomfortable, and maybe I wasn’t attentive enough to that. Because all I can remember thinking is that it was incredible.

“Precious,” I husk, walking forward to get a blanket from the basket in the corner. After our mom died, I never got attention like this from my dad. He did his best, but he wasn’t present for a long time. And by the time he was, I didn’t want his attention in this way anymore. I’m glad he and Luke are getting it though.

I cover them carefully and hear some shuffling behind me. I turn to see Willa tidying the table and then sauntering away toward the kitchen. Hands full of the mess they made, hips swaying happily. Like this is no inconvenience to her at all.

As if a stunner like her wants to spend her Friday nights with a washed-up single dad, cleaning up the mess a kid and his grandfather made.

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.