Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance
Heartless: Chapter 8

Willa: I can’t believe you didn’t tell Cade I’m a bartender and not some professional Mary Poppins.

Summer: He was being insane about the entire process. You’re perfect for the job. Luke is gonna love you.

Willa: OBVIOUSLY. I’m very loveable. Unless your name is Cade Eaton. Then I’m the object of all your exaggerated scowling.

Summer: He has different scowls. Haven’t you figured that out yet?

Willa: That’s insane. I’m not paid enough to decipher a man’s scowls. Here’s the new deal. If your shitty version of matchmaker doesn’t work out, you’re the new nanny. End of story. And you’re going to do it with a smile. They need help.

Summer: Adorable. You’re already protective.

The screen door bangs shut loudly, which means Cade is home. Crabby Cade stomping in after a long day of doing god knows what with a bunch of cows and cowboys.

“Welcome home, Master Cade,” I announce with a flourish as he walks into the kitchen, shooting me a scowl. An annoyed scowl?

“What are you doing? And why are you calling me that?” Cade’s voice rumbles dangerously.

“Stirring the spaghetti sauce that the young Padawan requested, I am.” Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers. He can clearly see that I’m moving a spoon around in a pot full of Bolognese sauce.

He glowers at me like I’m the least funny person he’s ever met. “And I’m talking like this because it’s hard to get out of character after playing Star Wars all afternoon.”

“You’re not supposed to cook dinner.” His fingers rap against the marble countertop, but his eyes stay fixed on the pot. Lately it’s like he totally avoids looking at me.

“The force is just too strong with me in culinary arts. Young Luke has announced that my cooking is superior to yours.” I smirk at him, getting far too much enjoyment out of needling him, especially since I know he loves to cook and is damn good at it.

The manly man across from me just scoffs, finally lifting his eyes. “He did not.”

“He did.”

His arms cross petulantly. “I don’t believe you.”

I smile prettily. “Okay, Darth Cade.”

At that moment, Luke blasts into the kitchen from washing up. “No! I want dad to be Jar Jar Binks!”

Cade’s forehead wrinkles and he appears genuinely confused. “What the hell is a Jar Jar Binks?”

Luke and I dissolve into a fit of giggles. Cade ignores us and removes the spoon from my hand, dips it in the pot, before lifting it to his lips for a sample. His only reaction is a low grumble. Which is practically a five-star review coming from him.

“What is all that laundry doing on my bed?”

It seems like every day I do something helpful around the house, and Cade replaces a way to complain about it, like I’ve gravely offended him.

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.

“I did a couple of loads today and wasn’t sure where it all went.”

“You’re not supposed to do my laundry.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to interrupt me watching Gossip Girl reruns. But here we are.”

“I don’t need you to do my laundry.”

I sit up with a deep sigh. “Okay. We’re really fixating on that? It was some towels and a few sweaters. Not your tight boxers. So let’s just cool our jets, yeah? They were already in the basket, and I’m not lazy, so I tossed them in the washer. Not a big deal. No need to put me on death row over it.”

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.”

He just glares at me.

“Imagine if I dropped a red sock in with your white towels? Oof. Brutal. End of days.”

More glaring.

I pop another chip into my mouth. “Is this where you try to melt me with the power of your mind because I had the gall to help you with a chore?”

“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.”

“Willa!” I hear Cade calling from inside the house. But Luke and I are hiding outside on the back porch, waiting to jump out and scare him. “Where are you guys?”

“Luke?” His footsteps march through the house with authority. It feels like I might be in trouble for something, but I always feel that way with Cade. “You hungry, pal?”

We don’t move an inch.

“What the hell,” he mutters, drawing nearer now. Probably in the kitchen.

Luke is behind me, and I peer down at him, his palm clamped across his mouth to hold back laughter. I raise a finger up to my lips, reminding him to keep his shit together and stay quiet.

The fridge door creaks open. A bottle cap hisses as it pops open. I can imagine Cade’s throat working as he takes a deep pull of a what I assume is a beer. He’s close now. He must be staring out the screen door.

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. 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.

“Willa, how has your first week been?” Cade’s dad, Harvey, smiles at me from across the table. It’s my first family dinner at the ranch, and I’m downright enamored. It’s so . . . wholesome?

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.

But it flustered me all the same. Sent gooseflesh out over my arms all the same. The simplest touch has taken up residence in my mind for no good reason.

I finish chewing and return Harvey’s smile, but it’s Cade’s dark eyes I feel on me from beside his dad. The similarities between them are insane. It’s like I can see how Cade will look in twenty some-odd years.

Which is to say, good.

“It’s been great. Luke and I have had a lot of fun. Haven’t we, Luke?” I tilt my head to gaze down at him. He insisted on sitting beside me, even though he hasn’t seen his dad since last night. We came up to the main house early and Cade met us here.

The little boy beams up at me. “Sure did.”

Cade scowls. It’s what he did when Luke moved across the table, away from him.

“The most fun!”

Harvey’s kind eyes turn back toward his grandson. “What have you been doing?”

Luke peers around the table, grinning at everyone. He’s the kind of kid who flourishes under attention rather than crumbles under it. And everyone is here. Both of Cade’s brothers, Rhett and Beau. Summer, of course. Even the hockey player, Jasper Gervais, who everyone loses their mind over—apparently, he grew up here on the ranch.

I’m just snoopy enough to wish I knew more about his story. Where his parents are and how he got to where he is. The fact he hasn’t said a damn word throughout dinner has me even more curious. He smiles at people from behind the brim of his team cap. Little smirks and winks. He seems nice enough. He seems like he requires more investigation.

Beau, on the other hand, has barely stopped talking. Except for now. When Luke talks, everyone listens.

“We threw lettuce out the window while driving really fast down the back road!” For a kid who seemed suitably chastised a few days ago, he sure is hamming it up now.

“Goddamn. That sounds like fun.” Beau shakes his head and spears some lettuce, a look of nostalgia touching every feature.

My eyes snap to Cade’s, who is scowling at his brother. I absently wonder which scowl that is. Irritated? Scolding?

Through the salad in his mouth, Beau adds, “I’m gonna do that with you when I get back from this deployment, Lukey. We’ll do watermelons instead.”

“Yes!” Luke shoots up in his seat, like he’s forgotten the conversation we had earlier this week.

“You sure as shit are not.” Cade pushes the salad around his plate even harder. Hard enough that the tines of his fork screech across his plate. This guy needs to work out some goddamn tension.

My mom would say he needs some good sex.

I’m not so sure she’d be wrong.

“Luke and I have had some good chats about food scarcity this week,” I pipe up to defuse the conversation. “That not everyone is as fortunate as he is. We dug out a garden and today we planted our lettuce seeds, didn’t we?”

He nods enthusiastically at me, and I’m relieved I wasn’t a total buzzkill. Five isn’t too young to hear some truths about the world, but I’m wondering if I overstepped.

When I peek over at Cade, though, his scowl is less irritated. Possibly an appreciative scowl?

I mean, fuck my life. How did I get to the point where I’m analyzing the way a man scowls at me?

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.

It’s then that I hear a huff of air in the otherwise dead silent dining room, and I almost drop my fork when I figure out it came from the least likely person.

Cade is still moving food around on his plate—like barbecue ribs require a fork or something—but the corner of his mouth slants upward. The angle of his face and the darkness of his beard make it hard to see, so I squint a tad, jutting my chin at him to get a closer look. I’m not sure I can call it a smile.

An amused scowl?

The hockey player clears his throat, not hiding his amusement at all. “Well, Harvey, what have you been up to this week?”

He chuckles and wipes a weathered hand across his mustache. “Thanks for asking, son . . .”

I replace myself glancing between him and Cade, wondering how Cade might look with a mustache. A joke about free mustache rides pops into my head, and I blink rapidly to clear it.

I glance around the table to see if anyone noticed I was thinking about riding Cade’s face. Thankfully, that would be impossible, and everyone has fixed their attention on the head of the family, who’s running down what he’s been up to this week while I’ve been thinking about how Cade’s beard and tongue would . . .

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 stare back at him across the table, refusing to look guilty. Trying to stretch my consciousness back to whatever the sweet patriarch of the family is talking about.

“ . . . Today I got to tidying up around the property a bit. There were leaves everywhere, so I gave the yard a good blow job.”

Cade’s eyes widen. Comically wide. Playfully wide. And I can’t help the hysterical little giggle that bubbles up out of me. I slap a hand over my mouth to cover it.

Rhett chokes on a piece of his food, and Summer slaps his back and coos at him like he’s a baby choking on applesauce while trying to suppress her giggles.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Beau says with a playful glint in his eye. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to us again.”

Harvey shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “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.”

My god. Is Harvey Eaton a sheltered simpleton or a comedic genius? He’s got the entire table stunned speechless, struggling to hold in their laughter, and he’s just munching away at the food on his plate, looking oblivious.

“Do you have a special technique he should know about before he gives it a go?” I don’t have a clue how Jasper is keeping a straight face after delivering a line like that. Is this something they teach you in the NHL? Because I’d like to have that training.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Cade bites out in a strained voice before pushing away from the table and heading toward the front of the house. I can’t make out his facial expression. Not even a little bit. Is he sick? Is he pissed that this conversation is going on in front of his kid? Am I fired for not instantly giving Luke earmuffs?

“Hey, Luke,” I say, my voice strangled, “why don’t you tell everyone about our guitar lessons this week? I’m going to go check on your dad.”

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.

I walk through to the other side of the house, admittedly not really knowing where I’m going. Where Cade’s house is bright and airy with a cottage-type vibe, the main house almost feels like some sort of hunting lodge—wide floorboards, dark wood beams beneath vaulted ceilings, brass hardware, and dark green walls. I peek down a hallway and see nothing, so I continue toward the front door, seeing that it’s propped open.

There’s a long, wide deck with raw log banisters that face out over the long driveway and a full copse of poplars.

Cade is standing there, Wranglers hugging his strong legs, the muscles in his back bunched beneath soft cotton. His close-cut black hair is slicked back neatly, and his trimmed beard gives the impression he made an effort tonight. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing him waltz in after a hard day’s work looking all dirty and sweaty and, well, fucking hot, to be honest.

I stand for a moment and watch him, trying to decide which look I prefer.

His wide palms are propped on the railing and his chin is tucked into his chest.

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.

But it’s the shaking of his shoulders that draws my gaze now.

He’s crying or laughing, and to be honest, both seem equally unlikely from what I know of this man.

“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.

I smile and lean against the post several feet away from him before turning my gaze on the yard. “It does look great out here. Your dad could suck the chrome off of a—” With one hand held up to stop me, his head drops lower and his shoulders shake harder. “I wonder if he’s sore. He really put his back into it.” I snort as I say it. Honestly, I’m barely holding it together. I am a child.

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.

“Man, my dad is such an asshole, making a joke like that. It’s just to watch us all get uncomfortable too. And then Jasper has to go from saying shit-all to delivering the killing blow without even breaking a sweat.”

I smile and marvel at the man beside me. I’ve seen him every day for a week and not once has he looked even close to this happy.

“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 light.

And I can’t look away.