Heartless

“Happily married women don’t want to live in your house for the summer.”

I grunt. “What about someone from another town? Someone who doesn’t know our family. And all my shit. Someone who hasn’t slept with one of my brothers.” My nose wrinkles. “Or my dad.”

Harvey makes a little choking sound, almost a laugh. “I’ve been single for decades, son. Mind your business.”

Summer’s cheeks pinken, but I don’t miss the smile on her lips as she turns to peer out the window.

“I could just do it, you know,” Harvey adds. And not for the first time.

“No.”

“Why not? He’s my grandson.”

“Exactly. That’s what your relationship should remain. You’ve done enough helping with him for his entire life. Your back, your knees—you need a rest. You can still have your fun days with him any time you want. But you don’t need to run yourself into the ground with long hours, early mornings, and possibly late nights. It’s not fair, and I’m not taking advantage of you that way. End of story.”

Then I turn back to my future sister-in-law. “Summer, can’t you just do it? You’d be perfect. Luke loves you. You don’t like me. You already live on the ranch.”

I see her jaw twitch. She’s getting sick of me asking her, but I don’t want to leave my boy with just anyone. He’s a handful. More than one handful. And I can’t accomplish everything I need to do on this ranch this summer without someone here to take care of him. Someone I can trust to keep him safe.

“I’m also a new business owner, and these summer months are my busiest. It’s not an option. Stop asking. It makes me feel bad. Because I love you and Luke. But we’re getting tired of bending over backwards interviewing people just to make zero progress with you.”

“Okay, fine,” I grumble. “I’ll settle for someone just like you, then.”

Her head quirks in response to that, her body stilling. “I might have an idea.” She brings a finger up to tap it against her lips, and Harvey turns to her, eyes full of questions.

He looks so damn hopeful. If I’m tired of the saga that is finding a new nanny for the summer, then Harvey must be downright exhausted.

My eyebrows knit together. “Who?”

“You don’t know her.”

“Does she have experience?”

Summer stares at me, wide, dark eyes giving nothing away. “She has experience with handling rowdy boys, yes.”

“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.

* * *

I count in my head the last time I had sex.

Or at least I try.

Two years? Three years? Was it that one time in January when I spent a night in the city? How long ago was that even? What was that chick’s name again?

The woman in front of me shifts, one hip popping out, full ass rounding out her skinny jeans in a way that should be illegal. The under-cheek crease is almost as alluring as the swing of her copper hair as it swishes across her slender back.

She’s distracting. Tight shirt tucked into tight jeans. Every fucking curve on display.

I lose count entirely. It’s the sight of her in front of me in line for coffee that has me counting anyway.

The takeaway here is I had sex so far back now that I don’t even remember. But there’s no forgetting why I haven’t even let myself consider members of the opposite sex.

A kid I’m raising on my own. A ranch I’m running on my own. A million responsibilities. Too little time. Not enough sleep.

Time for myself hasn’t been a thing for a long time. I just didn’t realize how long.

“What can I get you, ma’am?”

The woman in front of me laughs, and it reminds me of the chimes on my back porch when the wind dances through them—melodic and airy sounding.

What a laugh.

It’s a laugh I’d recognize. I’ve definitely never met this woman. I’d remember it because I know everyone in Chestnut Springs.

“Ma’am? I don’t know how I feel about that,” she says, and I swear I can hear the smile in her voice. I wonder if her lips match the rest of her.

Ellen, who runs Le Pamplemousse, the little gourmet coffee shop in town, smiles at her. “Well, what would you have me call you? I usually recognize every face that walks in my door, but not yours.”

Ah, it’s not just me. I lean forward a little, hoping to catch the name. But one worker chooses this exact moment to grind coffee. Which just makes me grind my teeth.

I don’t know why I want to know this woman’s name. I just do. I’m from a small town, I’m allowed to be snoopy. And that’s all this is.

When the grinding noise stops, Ellen’s wrinkled face lights up. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you,” the woman in front of me replies, before adding, “How come this place is called The Grapefruit?”

Ellen barks out her amusement and grins from her side of the counter. “I told my husband I wanted to name the shop something that sounded fancy. Something French. He said the only thing he knows how to say in French is le pamplemousse. It seemed good enough to me and now it’s like a little running joke between us.” Her eyes soften at the mention of her husband, and I feel a flicker of envy inside of my chest.

Followed by a flicker of annoyance.

The only reason I haven’t grumbled about their slow-as-fuck chitchat is because I’m too busy fighting off a public boner over this chick’s laugh. Under normal circumstances, it would piss me off that grabbing a coffee is taking this damn long. I told my dad I’d be back to grab Luke—I check my watch—right about now. I need to get back so I can meet with Summer and the person who will hopefully be Luke’s nanny.

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.

“That’ll be three dollars and seventy-five cents,” Ellen says, eyes fixed on the cash register’s touch screen in front of her while the woman at the till digs through her oversized purse, clearly searching for her wallet.

“Oh shit,” she mutters, and from the corner of my eye, I see something fall from her purse to the polished concrete floor at her sandal-clad feet.

Without even thinking about it, I drop into a crouch and swipe the black fabric off the floor. I see her legs turning and rise back up.

“Here you go,” I say, my voice all gravel as a shot of nerves hits me. Talking to strange women isn’t a well-honed skill of mine.

Scowling at them? I’m a professional.

“Oh my god,” she says.

Standing now, I get a good look at her face. My feet root to the ground, and my lungs stop working. Her laugh has nothing on her face. Cat-like eyes, arched brows, and milky skin.

She’s fucking stunning.

And her cheeks are fire-engine red.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasps, hand falling across her rosebud lips.

“No need. It’s fine,” I say, but I still feel like everything is happening in slow motion. I’m having a hard time catching up, still too fixated on her face.

And fuck.

Her tits.

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.

I stare at the scrap of black fabric in my hand, and it’s like everything around us goes blurry. My eyes shoot to hers, all wide and green. So many shades. A mosaic.

I’m not known for smiling, but the corners of my mouth twitch. “You, uh, dropped your panties, ma’am.”

A strangled giggle bursts from her as her gaze darts to my hand and back to my face. “Wow. This is awkward. I’m really—”

“Your coffee is ready, sweetheart!” Ellen calls.

The redhead’s face flips away, relieved by the interruption. “Thank you!” she calls back a little too brightly before slapping a five down on the counter and grabbing the paper cup. Without another glance, she’s making a beeline for the door. Like she can’t get away fast enough. “Keep the change! See you again!”

I swear I hear her giggling under her breath as she breezes past, clearly avoiding my gaze while murmuring something to herself about this being a good story to tell her kids one day.

I absently wonder what the hell kind of stories this woman plans on telling her future children before I call out to her. “You forgot your . . .” I trail off because I refuse to shout this across the coffee shop full of people I have to face day in, day out.

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.

Now, she does laugh, full and warm and so damn amused. Then she exits into the sunlit street, hair shining like fire and hips swinging like she owns this town.

She leaves me stunned.

And when I glance back down at my open palm, it hits me she’s long gone. I have no idea what her name is, and I’m still here . . .

Holding her panties.

2

Willa

“Who was he?” Summer’s voice is strangled.

“Not a damn clue.” I think back on my black underwear plunking down on the floor and how mortification slowly morphed into hysterics.

Only me.

Things like that would only happen to me.

My best friend gasps, rocking forward on the porch swing. “You didn’t take them back?”

I smirk and take a sip of my beer. “No. He looked so . . . I don’t know. Stunned? Like not offended, but not pervy about it either. It was kind of adorable. I feel like I freed a house-elf or something.”

“Did he resemble Dobby?”

I groan and waggle my brows at her suggestively. “If Dobby was hot.”

“Willa, that’s nasty.” She wheezes. “Please tell me they were clean.”

“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.”

“To be uncomfortable? No thanks. Life is too short. Bras and underwear are overrated. Plus, now I can lay awake at night and wonder what some rando is doing with them.”

Summer just laughs again. “He probably threw them out like any sane person would.” She’s so happy these days. Since she left her strained family and overperforming city life. She met a bull rider and ran off into the sunset and now here she is. My best friend. All smiles and freckles and curled up on a porch swing in front of a beautiful, custom-built rancher that faces out over the Rocky Mountains.

Nothing has ever looked better on her.

I like to bug her about living in the middle of “buttfuck nowhere” but the truth is the view out near Chestnut Springs is breathtaking. Prairie land so flat it almost seems impossible. Dark, craggy mountains rising like a tidal wave, heading right for you.

In the city, we can see the mountains, but not like this. Not like you could reach out and touch them.

“So, what are you going to do about the next several months?”

I sigh. I have no idea. But I also don’t want Summer worrying about me. It’s kind of her thing. She’ll get all worried, and then she’ll try to fix things for me when I’d just rather go with the flow.

“Maybe I’ll come live with you and Rhett for a while?” I say innocently, glancing around. “The house is so nice now that it’s finished. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

She rolls her lips together like she’s really thinking about it. Goddamn, this woman has a heart of gold.

“Sum, I’m kidding. I wouldn’t do that to you guys.” Huffing out a ragged sigh, I gaze out over the fields. “I don’t know. When Ford told me he was going to shut down the bar for renovations, I was honestly excited. I figured I’d spend the summer traveling from horse show to horse show and blowing through all my savings. Avoiding coming up with a plan for my life and just being a twenty-five-year-old with nothing except family money going for her.”

She tries to interrupt me. She doesn’t like it when I’m hard on myself about managing my super successful brother’s bar. Or tagging along on my super successful parents’ vacations. Or just stumbling through life with zero sense of direction in a family full of overachievers.

I ignore her protests and continue. “But of course my horse had to go ruin all my plans and injure himself just in time for show season. Tux needed surgery and now I’ll just spend my summer feeding him carrots and obsessively brushing him.”

My best friend just stares at me. I want to reach into her brain and pluck out her thoughts because I know she’s chock-full of them.

“I’ll be good. It’s a first world problem. I’ll visit you a bunch. You can brutalize me at your gym, and I’ll pick up the odd hockey player or bull rider. Win-win-win.”

“Right . . .” Her pointer finger taps against her top lip. “What if—”

“Oh no. Please don’t do the thing where you make it your job to fix my life. You help people too much, you know that?”

“Willa, shut up and listen to me.”

I press my ass back against the porch railing facing her and reach for the bottle of beer beside me. It’s dripping condensation down the side, and the liquid inside isn’t even that cold anymore. It’s only June and already unseasonably hot. Jeans were a mistake.

Taking a big pull, I roll my shoulders back. Ready to be scolded.

“What if I had a way for you to live out here for the summer? But not with Rhett and me.”

That is not what I was expecting her to say.

“I don’t want to camp in your yard. I’m not cut out for sleeping outdoors. I may not know what my path in life is yet, but I promise it doesn’t include air mattresses and sleeping bags.”

She rolls her eyes and forges ahead. “No. Rhett’s older brother needs help with his son for the months between school. The woman who took care of him when he was little can’t keep up anymore. He’s five.”

I stare at my friend, beer bottle swinging back and forth between my fingers. “You want me to take care of a child?”

“Yeah. You’re fun. And high energy. And if you can handle a bar full of drunk guys, then what’s one little boy who needs entertaining? You like kids, you always say you do.”

I mull the idea over in my head. My first inclination is to say no, but truthfully, I’m dreading these months without work, or competing, or my best friend. I’ve always liked kids, possibly because I still feel a bit like one sometimes.

“And where would I live?”

Her eyes widen just a little and her throat works as she swallows. “With his brother, Cade. He runs the ranch. His mornings are early and sometimes his nights are late if something goes wrong. But he’s got a good crew hired on the ranch to offset his hours. Their dad likes to help with Luke, but honestly, he’s not cut out for twelve-hour days either. But he’d tag you out pretty often, I’m sure.”

“You look scared? Is this the dick brother or the funny, hot, superhero brother?” I almost feel bad asking because I haven’t been great about coming out here and visiting Summer. We often just meet in town rather than driving the extra twenty minutes out to Wishing Well Ranch. I should probably have met all the members of her future family by now, but I haven’t.

“The dick brother.”

“Of course it is.” I drink again.

She jumps in quickly. “But you won’t see him that much! He specifically doesn’t want someone who will, um . . . get in his way? Plus, Rhett and I will be around. It could be fun.”

When she puts it like that, it does sound kind of fun. More fun than spending the best months of the year in the city alone.

“Can we do boozy brunches?” We always did boozy brunches when we were both living in the city, and I want them back.

Her lips twitch. “Yes.”

I toss back the rest of my beer, already knowing what my answer is going to be. I’ve gone with the flow my entire life. Opportunities pop up and I stumble into them. This feels like another one of those.

Who am I to say no?

“Well then, fuck it. I’m in.”

* * *

We drive across the farm and pull up in front of the most picturesque red house with white trim. Little hedges rim the yard, and a white gate opens to a dirt path leading to the front door.

I’m instantly charmed.

“I get to live here?” I ask as we climb out of her SUV, unable to tear my eyes from the adorable, perfectly manicured house.

“Yeah.” Summer carries on, missing the part where I’m beyond charmed by the whole vibe out here. “I think his hours are so variable that it makes sense. Before we were tag teaming it with his dad and Mrs. Hill but waking up and getting over here at 4:30 a.m. is just too much for them. Cade doesn’t enjoy asking them to do it, but if you’re living here, you can just keep sleeping and then Luke won’t be alone in the house.”

Summer saunters up to the front door without a care in the world, and I trail behind, wondering what the hell I’ve actually signed myself up for.

I don’t know shit about taking care of kids.

Or parenting.

Or ranching.

My steps falter as I fall behind, but Summer doesn’t notice. She marches up the couple of steps in her flip-flops and cutoff jeans to the front porch, lifts the knocker, and bangs hard.

“Hey, Sum—” I start, reaching out with a hand as though I can stop her when she’s already knocked. Thinking that we should talk this through more thoroughly. Hammer out some details.

Maybe my impulsiveness has gotten me in over my head for once. I almost feel like she’s rushing. Like she can’t wait to wrap this up. 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.

He’s still all man, from head to toe. Dark hair, darker eyes under furrowed brows, broad shoulders, the sexiest scruff surrounding a slightly curled lip . . . and a scowl.

He stares in my direction while his knuckles turn white where he grips the door.

“Cade!” Summer starts in, oblivious to the death glare he’s pinning me with. “This is my best friend, Willa. Your new nanny.”

“No,” is his only reply.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, over my dead body.” Condescension drips from his words.

Her head quirks to the side, and I close the space between us. If he thinks he’s going to talk to my best friend that way, he’s got another thing coming. I’ve had her back since we were teenagers. Summer’s endured enough shitty men in her life, so this one can fuck all the way off.

“Cade, don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been trying to find someone for—”

He cuts her off. “You’re being ridicu—”

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.

I’ve been known to break up bar fights with a bat.

And maybe I’m about to be known for kicking a hot-as-hell rancher in the balls.

I wave a hand right in front of him to shut him up. “Choose your next words carefully. I don’t care if she’s about to be your sister-in-law. No one speaks to her with that tone, period.”

He turns his dark gaze on me now, eyes starting on my face before trailing down my body in the most critical and unnerving way. When his eyes come back up, the look in them is perfectly flat.

Like he’s sized me up and found me entirely lacking.

“And I don’t care if you’re her best friend. You smell like beer and your panties are still in my back pocket. You’re not taking care of my son.”

My eyes narrow, and my lips curve up at his misstep. “You saving them for later?”

I wink at him, watching fiery red splotches crop up on the apples of his cheeks and seep out across the immaculate bone structure hidden beneath that beard and scowl.

Summer spins on me, chocolate eyes wide as saucers. She resembles one of those squishy-faced dogs whose eyes are constantly bugging out in the most adorable way. “Cade is the panty guy?”

“I’m not the panty guy,” he interjects, but Summer and I ignore him.

“Yeah. And you said that any sane man would have thrown them out. So you know what that means.”

We’re grinning at each other like crazy people now, and before I know it, a giggle slips from between Summer’s lips. And before long, she’s doubled over, hands on her knees, gasping for air.

“For fuck’s sake.” The grump runs a broad hand through his hair in frustration. “I am not the panty guy.”

Laughter shakes my shoulders, and my eyes water as I mumble, “What are the chances?”

“This is a small town. The chances are rather good,” Cade grits out, not nearly as amused as us.

Summer practically howls as she straightens and swipes at her eyes. “Don’t worry, Cade. They’re clean.”

His nostrils flare, and his eyes fall shut as he sucks in a deep breath. Like that might bring him some sort of peace.

“Panty Guy.” I shake my head and grin at him. Nanny or not, I’ll be spending time around this man for the rest of my life with Summer being married to his brother, so I might as well smooth things out.

“He’s not a panty guy! He wears boxers!” A small voice echoes from the hallway as the most adorable dark-haired, blue-eyed little boy comes blasting into view. “Those tight ones though,” he clarifies, adding insult to injury.

“Yeah,” I deadpan to the little boy who’s now wedged himself under his dad’s arm. Big eyes regard me with keen interest. “Can’t have any chafing.”

“What’s chafing?” he asks curiously, as his dad holds one broad, tanned hand up to his eyebrows and rubs at them.

“Luke.”

“Like when all your junk rubs together,” I explain.

You don’t grow up around my parents and act shy about this stuff. Nothing is off the table in our family.

“Oh yeah,” he nods, appearing wise beyond his years. “I hate it when that happens.”