Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance

Lucy Reid’s eyes flutter my way. The look in them is just a little too appreciative for my taste.

“Well, I love to do arts and crafts. I do a lot of scrapbooking in my spare time. Knitting. I bet Luke would love to do some knitting. Don’t you think, Cade?”

I almost laugh at the way she purrs my name. Also, I’d love to see someone get Luke to sit still long enough to handle two pointy sticks and create something.

She smiles over at Summer now, my little brother’s fiancée, before adding, “You know how it is. We all need some sort of feminine hobbies, don’t we?”

I hear my dad, Harvey, chuckle from where he’s seated in the room’s corner. Hiring a nanny has turned into a full-on family affair.

And a full-on nightmare.

Summer’s lips roll together, and she offers a small, fake smile. “Yes, of course.” I almost snort. Summer’s idea of feminine entertainment is squatting heavy plates at the gym and torturing grown men in the name of “personal training.” She’s lying through her fucking teeth, but it’s possible she’s still new enough in town that Lucy doesn’t know.

Or maybe Lucy is being a snarky bitch to my future sister.

“Alright.” I stand. “Well, thanks. We’ll get back to you.”

Lucy seems a little taken aback by how swiftly I’ve changed the conversation, but I’ve heard and seen all I need to.

And bedside manner isn’t my strong suit. I’m more of a rip-the-band-aid off type.

I spin on my heel, drop my chin, and walk out before it’s too obvious that I saw her outstretched hand and just didn’t care to shake it. Practically stomping to the kitchen, I prop my hands against the butcher block counter that butts up against the window and let my eyes trace out over the open range. Across the peaks of the Rockies that jut up toward the heavens.

This view, wild and craggy, is bursting with color in the early summer—grass a little too green, sky a little too blue, and sun bright enough to wash everything out a bit and make you squint.

After tossing some coffee beans into the grinder to make a fresh pot, I press down on the top to fill the house with the sound and try not to think about what I’m going to do with my kid for the next couple of months. It just leads to beating myself up. Feeling like I should do more for him. Be more present for him.

Basically, it’s not productive.

The sound has the added benefit of drowning out the pleasantries that my dad and Summer are exchanging with Lucy at the front door.

Not my house, not my responsibility. We’re doing the nanny interviews at the main farmhouse, where my dad lives, because I don’t like letting random people into my home. Especially not ones who look at me like this is their ticket into completing some weird little premade happy family fantasy with me.

Harvey, on the other hand, would run a bed-and-breakfast out of this place and enjoy the hell out of taking care of people. Ever since he got injured and handed the ranch over to me, it’s like he just wanders around socializing 24-7.

I watch the small grains tumble into the white paper filter in the coffeemaker’s top and then swivel to fill the pot with water at the sink.

“Kinda late in the day for a pot of coffee, don’t you think?” Harvey strides in, with Summer not far behind.

They have no idea. I’m full up on coffee today. Almost jittery. “Just premaking it for tomorrow morning for ya.”

Summer snorts and my dad rolls his eyes. They both know I’m full of shit.

“You weren’t very nice to her, Cade,” is his next comment. And now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “In fact, you’ve been a challenge with this entire process.”

Crossing my arms, I lean back against the countertop. “I’m not very nice. And I’ll happily be a challenge about protecting my kid.” I swear my dad’s lips twitch when he sits down at the table and crosses a booted foot over his knee. Summer just stands, hip propped against the doorframe, staring at me. She does this sometimes and it’s unnerving.

She’s smart. She doesn’t miss a beat. I swear I hear the gears turning in her head, but she doesn’t have a big mouth, so you never quite know what she’s thinking.

I like her and I’m glad my little brother was smart enough to put a ring on it.

“You’re nice,” she says thoughtfully, “in your own way.”

I clamp my teeth onto my lip because I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing I’m amused by that comment.

She sighs. “Listen, that’s everyone we’ve interviewed. I went out of my way to weed out the applicants who seemed less interested in spending time with Luke and more interested in spending time with . . . you.”

“Hoo boy”—Dad slaps the table—“and there were several. Who knew women would willingly sign up to endure your scowls and bad moods? The pay isn’t that good.”

I scowl at him before turning my attention back to Summer. “You didn’t weed thoroughly enough. I want someone who has zero interest in me. No complicated shit. Maybe they could be happily married?”

“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.