Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance(7)

I’m not delusional enough to think that person exists, but I keep hoping for that anyway. And Willa isn’t the answer I was hoping for.

Luke’s mom did a number on us. She continues to do a number on us—on me.

My trust levels are at rock bottom. I trust Mrs. Hill because I know she took good care of my brothers and me. Same goes for my dad. I trust Summer because anyone who can manage to tie my wild-child little brother down can handle an unruly five-year-old.

But this Willa character. I don’t know her. I don’t trust her.

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.

I sit up and pull them out. It’s not like they’re anything offensive. A silky nylon type of black fabric. Pretty full cut. I guess. For panties? What the fuck do I know?

I feel like the biggest perv, sitting here on my couch, scrutinizing a pair of underwear that belongs to the woman who is currently taking care of my child.

I should give them back.

I don’t want to keep walking around with them.

I also don’t want to look her in the eye as I hand them back.

I’m thirty-eight years old and acting like a nervous fucking teenager over women’s undergarments.

Agitated with myself, I storm over to the kitchen and shove them all the way to the back of my

“stuff” drawer. The one where random shit goes to die because I’m too lazy to think of a proper place

to put it. I pride myself on keeping a tidy house, but that one drawer is my secret shame.

It seems fitting that Willa’s underwear should end up in there.

I swipe my keys off the counter and stride out the front door. I get the feeling my indecisiveness over the whole nanny thing has irritated my dad, so I hop in my truck and opt to go harass my little brother instead.

God knows he spent enough years giving me the few gray hairs that now mingle with the dark ones near my temples. The least he can do is hand me a beer and tell me more about this Willa person before I write her off and make Summer and my dad hate me.

Because I’m pretty sure if I draw this out much longer, they’ll both tell me to go fuck myself for being such a picky bitch.

And I’ll deserve it.

It only takes me a few minutes on the back road to reach Rhett and Summer’s brand-new house.

I see a red Jeep Wrangler parked next to the vintage truck my brother drives. But Summer’s swanky vehicle is gone. My fingers itch to grab my phone from my pocket, dial her up, and demand to know where she is and what she’s doing.

Maybe I’m on extra high alert with someone new around my kid. But mostly, I always feel this way. I always feel like I’m looking out for someone. For everyone.

I’ve had the weight of the world on my shoulders since my mom died when I was eight. I’m not even sure if anyone put that weight there or if I just do it to myself.

Either way, it’s ever present. And it’s heavy.

I stomp up the front steps of the house and bang on the door, even though there’s a bell. Hitting something is just so much more satisfying.

Within a few moments, I hear feet padding from the other side of the door. I can see my brother’s form through the frosted glass, and when he opens the door, he’s smiling.

Smirking like he knows something I don’t.

“Where’s Summer?” I ask, cutting to the chase.

“Nice to see you too, jackass. My wife is in town. She had to run to the gym.”

I snort. “She’s not your wife yet. You aren’t married.”

He laughs and waves me off, opening the door wider. “Details. She said yes. It’s pretty much done in my books. And it just sounds so good, you know?”

I wrinkle my nose and stare back at my little brother. Never thought I’d see him this gone over a girl.

“Is my kid with her?”

“Oh, nah. He’s off with Willa. Summer said to remind you that you said she was in charge so she decided Willa would stay with Luke so she could work at her own business rather than as your personal assistant.”

I roll my lips together and look back out over the wide-open farmland. That sounds exactly like something Summer would say. A loophole in my instructions that she would find.

Rhett holds his hands up in surrender while trying to conceal his amusement. “Her words, not mine.”

Propping my hands on my hips, I sigh before shifting my gaze back on Rhett and grit out, “Tell me about this Willa person. And where exactly is she?”

“Come sit out back with me. You look like you need a beer. Or ten.”

I shake my head as I step into the house. “I do not need ten beers.”

Rhett chuckles as he saunters through the open-concept house to the kitchen, lined with glass

doors that open wide onto the sprawling back deck. “Yeah. You do. You look like you could kill someone. It’s not good for your blood pressure. You aren’t getting any younger.”

“Young enough to beat your ass,” I mutter as I toe off my boots and follow him through to the sunny deck.

Within moments, Rhett tosses me a can of beer and steers me toward a chair facing the field that functions as their backyard. There is one lone tree. A huge willow with long sweeping branches that dangle all around, giving it an almost curtain-like effect.

I crack the beer and put the cold can to my lips as Rhett sits in the Adirondack chair next to me.