Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance(9)

Sucking air in through my nostrils, I remind myself that it’s not my business. That I don’t know the full story. That maybe there’s a good reason for whatever’s going on with his mom. But his voice is so sweet, and his hand is so chubby, and he’s been cracking my shit up since he announced his dad wears boxers and not panties.

I don’t really consider myself a kid person, not in the mushy, heart-eyed kind of way. Haven’t spent enough time around them to know for sure if I am. Usually I just talk to them like tiny adults. But after years of bartending, I know people. And no matter what his age is, Luke is a cool person.

Giving his hand a quick squeeze—that he almost instantly returns—I pull back the curtain of branches, only to find Rhett and Cade sitting in two red chairs staring at us.

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.

“Dad!” Luke calls, darting toward the deck. “Did you see me? Did you see Willa? She climbed so high. I wanna learn to climb that high. Uncle Rhett, how high can you climb?”

“Can we not ask the daredevil in this family that question?” Cade mutters, but he doesn’t look at his son. No, his eyes latch onto me.

Rhett pushes up to his feet beside me. “I don’t know, pal. Why don’t we go see?”

Luke bounces in place. “Really?”

“Absolutely, little man.” Rhett sets down his can of beer and pads across the deck barefoot while Luke turns and races back to the tree. “Let’s go! Gotta let the panty bandit here chat with Willa.”

“Jesus Christ. They already told you about that?” Cade grumbles as a laugh rumbles in Rhett’s chest.

Cade’s eyes snap to mine, and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling as I continue to walk toward him. Then his gaze drops, and it’s like he can’t peel his eyes away from my mouth.

I push my teeth down until it almost hurts and drop his intense stare.

Within a few more steps, I’m folding myself down into the seat beside Cade. “I’m not sold on you, really,” I start, even though I’m almost positive this man doesn’t give a flying fuck what I think of him,

“but your kid is something else.”

I peek out the corner of my eye and can’t help the twitch of my lips as I take in his deep frown.

“Thanks,” he eventually grumbles, clearly irritated by me, but not enough to be rude after I pay him a compliment. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Cade Eaton’s favorite thing in the world is his son.

My immediate connection with Luke seems to give me brownie points by proxy or something.

I dip my chin, still watching Rhett and Luke across the yard. I don’t want to let my eyes linger too long on Cade Eaton. He’s so bitchy looking that I might laugh, or I might stare longer than is appropriate. Because you’d have to be dead to not enjoy staring at him.

He’s got an intimidating vibe about him. Like a hot, mean teacher.

“I’m out of work for the summer,” I say casually, noting the way the veins in his hand ripple when he tightens his grip on the beer can. “My show horse is rehabbing from an injury and needs a few months off. My best friend in the world fell in love with a cocky cowboy and moved away. My brother got famous almost overnight and is a full-blown workaholic. And my parents are retired and gallivanting around the globe.”

I chance a look up at the dark, foreboding man beside me. Even sitting, he seems tall. One dark brow arches at me while his facial expression remains impassive.

A quiet beat turns into an awkward silence. And I hate awkward silence.

I flip a hand over as though I’m showing him something. “So I’m free.”

He just glares at me.

“If you need a nanny. I could help.”

He continues to glare, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Good God. Does it hurt if you smile? Or say something polite? What happened to the ma’am guy from the coffee shop?”

“You’ll keep him safe?” His voice is all gravel, his eyes like lasers tracing my features. And if he weren’t such a grumpy asshole, this whole overprotective dad vibe would totally do it for me.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

His gaze, full of questions and devoid of warmth, roams over my face, searching for something.

“Will you teach him how to knit?”

My nose wrinkles. “Is that . . . is that like a requirement? Can I outsource it? I’m uh . . . not really big on knitting.”

I swear I see a cheek twitch.

“What will you do with him?”

I blow a raspberry and flop back in the chair. “I mean, the options are endless. I’m never bored.

Does he ride yet? I could give him riding lessons. I could show him my guitar. Does he like music? I love music. Playdates with some other kids? Cooking? Ooh! I love to bake. How about garden? I bet you could grow some killer veggies out here.”

All I get is a small bob of his head.

“You would send me frequent text updates. I leave early in the morning but like to be home early enough to spend time with him in the evenings. I will do my best to give you weekends off. I know you’re young and probably want to maintain some sort of social life.”