Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance

Summer: Come for dinner tonight. Bring the boys!

Willa: I can promise Luke and I will be there.

Summer: What about Cade?

Willa: Who knows?

Summer: Trouble in paradise? Did you bang him?

Willa: I wish. He barely even looks at me.

Summer: Flash him.

Willa: I’ve tried. He’s too mature. He just rolls his eyes and walks away.

Summer: Wait. Did you really flash him?

“Why do you keep looking over there?”

“Over where?” I reply, really sucking at playing stupid.

“At the guys?” Summer’s big brown eyes are scanning my face like I’m a barcode that she can easily read. Bitch doesn’t miss a beat.

“Just keeping track of the bocce score. Making sure no one cheats.”

We’re at Summer and Rhett’s house after another family dinner. Apparently, Harvey is driving across the country with Beau back to wherever he deploys from—according to Cade, this is something their dad does every time.

I don’t know Beau well, but I can’t imagine packing Luke up to go do what he does over and over again.

“Bulllllllllshit.” Summer cackles and leans back in her chair, sipping daintily at her glass of white wine with the golden sun shining behind her.

Nothing gets past her. She knows damn well I’m sitting here checking out Cade like it’s my last moment on earth. Ever since that goddamn kiss, things have been weird between us. And not the typical grumpy-dick-mode weird.

“We kissed and now everything is weird,” I blurt. Summer and I have always told each other our deepest, darkest secrets.

“You kissed!”

“Sum! Shh. If you announce it like that, the entire town will know, and they already hate me. Last thing I need is the bitch brigade to think I’m waltzing in here stealing the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Hm.” When I peek at her, she’s nodding thoughtfully, bare feet propped against another chair. “Figures.”

I roll my eyes and take a large swig of my wine. “That’s all? I’m always full of good advice for you, and I get a thoughtful hum and snarky one word shot?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster.”

She chuckles and rolls her head along the back of her chair toward me. “Weird how?”

I sigh and stare out over the expansive backyard at the big willow tree that Luke and I first hung out under. Rhett, Cade, Jasper, and Luke are out there playing bocce, throwing around balls and tossing back beers.

“Well, first he started off crabby, then he started coming around a bit. And I mean, okay, there was some sexual tension—but it was friendly enough. We talked at dinner or in the hot tub.”

One of Summer’s dark eyebrows arches in my direction. “Hot tub? What is this, high school? Has anyone told you that you can get pregnant in there?”

“Shut up. But now he talks in grunts. The only way we converse is via text message or the Post-it notes he leaves around the house.”

“He leaves you Post-it notes?” Her lips pop open in surprise.

I shrug. “Yeah. He’ll walk in when Luke and I are cleaning up after making a batch of cookies and say nothing about it. Just talk to Luke. But then in the morning he’ll leave a note by the coffee that says, Best cookies I’ve ever had.”

Summer laughs.

“Summer! Stop laughing and help me. What does that mean?”

Her head tips back, and I catch the guys glancing up at us. “It means he loves your cookies, Wils.”

I snort. “Of course. My cookies bring all the boys to the yard.”

Summer laughs harder, her wine sloshing in her glass as she does. “He did it all for the cookie,” she wheezes.

“Good lord. Can we please stop quoting awful songs and talk about my actual problem?”

She wipes at the tears on her cheeks as she straightens. “Okay. Okay. I’m honestly still just trying to wrap my head around this. Did you kiss him? I know you’re forward. Did you freak him out? He’s very . . . stern?”

“Way to take his side!”

Her eyes roll. “There are no sides. Tell me more about the notes.”

I sniffle and shoot her a dirty look. “Sure feels like it. Oooh. Poor innocent Cade who pushed me up against a hay bale and kissed me stupid.”

Summer rolls a hand, urging me to get over it and tell her more.

“Things like, Luke told me about his guitar lesson today. Thank you. Or, Please don’t paint the front porch. I don’t know how to take that though.”

“You painted the front porch?”

I scoff. Cade is such a stick in the mud sometimes. “We used paint to add details to the banisters. It looks cute. You’d swear I painted his front step Barbie pink or something.”

She eyes me like we both know I should have said no to Luke’s idea. But whatever. We can paint it over. It’s not like we killed someone or threw heads of lettuce out of my car.

“Basically, he comes home and we silently cook together. We eat dinner, and he mostly talks to Luke, avoids looking at me, says, Thanks, and then gets to work putting Luke to bed. I assume he’s exhausted after that and passes out. Truthfully, I don’t know how he does it. It’s way too much for one person to handle all on their own. But if I cook dinner, he gets all crabby. If I clean, he gets crabby. Oh! When he told me to stop doing laundry the other day, he said that I’m just the nanny, not the maid. So who the hell knows? Then he left me a note on the dryer that said, Thank you for your help.”

“It’s really kind of sweet. Like . . . for Cade?”

“Ugh. Is it though? He kissed me and then pulled away and said he shouldn’t have done that. He apologized. I’m trying not to be offended.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

I blink at her. “Talking?”

“Yes. You know . . . where you use your mouth to create words that describe what’s going through your head.”

“Sounds weird. Sounds awkward. Don’t like it. Not approved by me.”

She gives me a disapproving look. I imagine it’s one she’ll use on her future children.

“Why can’t we just have sex for the next little bit and then high-five each other at the end?”

“And spend the rest of your lives running into each other because of me and Rhett?”

I turn my nose up. “We’re adults. I’m head over heels for Luke. Do you know how cool that kid is? It’ll be fine.”

Summer stares wistfully out over the field, spinning the engagement ring on her finger. “Adults who won’t talk to each other.”

She says it kindly enough but I know it’s a dig. And I know she’s right. I know I fly by the seat of my pants with little regard for where I’m going. Planning stresses me out.

That’s why go with the flow is my motto.

Too many ways to fail. Too many ways to fall short. And in a family of wildly successful people, I’d rather be the flighty wildcard than the failure.

“You coming to the rodeo next weekend?” I change the subject entirely, actively sidestepping the thoughts bubbling up inside me.

She nods. “Of course. You?”

“Yeah. I told Cade I’d take care of Luke that day. We’ll go watch him.”

“Working the weekends, huh?”

I shrug. “Spending time with Luke doesn’t really feel like work.”

In fact, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

I should have known when Luke asked, “What does it feel like when you get carsick?” that something was wrong.

Instead, I kept bobbing my head to my favorite Broken Bells song and said, “Just like nauseous, buddy.”

We had a fun day at the spray park in town—our new go-to spot on hot days. He gets to see a bunch of friends from school, and I get to mean mug the psychopath birthday boy and his mom who will forever live on in my head as Bunny.

They stay away, looking at me like I’m an escaped convict, which works just fine for me.

I even spend time together with a couple of moms that I actually like. Ones with nice kids and good senses of humor. I feel relieved that not all the moms in this town are Bunnies.

But I’m not feeling relieved anymore.

Because Luke just sprayed vomit all over the back of my passenger’s side seat.

I pull over on the country road. We’re only five minutes from the ranch. So close, and yet so far away. After running around the front of the Jeep, I whip the back passenger’s side door open and take in the barf-covered boy before me.

“You okay, little man?”

His eyes are wide and watery. “I’m so sorry, Willa.”

“Oh, sweet boy. Don’t be sorry.”

“I barfed in your car.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I reach forward and run a hand through his wet hair.

“It’s a mess!” He’s crying now and I want to hug him, but we all have our limits. I’ve handled my fair share of vomit as a bartender, but hugging a barf-covered child is where I draw the line.

Instead, I unbuckle him, whip his shirt off, and then squeeze him to me. Sobs rack his little body.

“I-I’m s-s-so sorry!” He’s wailing now.

“Shh. Luke. Luke. It’s just a car. It doesn’t matter. You’re what matters. I don’t care about the car, babe. I’m more worried about you.” I pull away, looking at him, trying hard not to glance down. Because I know there is barf on me. The last thing I need to do is start heaving too.

He nods tearfully at me. “Willa?”

“Yeah?”

“You have throw up on you. I can still see a strawberry.”

I pop my lips open and opt to mouth breathe so I stop smelling it, focusing on his wide blue eyes. I’m an adult, I’m an adult, I’m an adult. “That’s okay. Everything can be washed. I’m going to buckle you in and drive the rest of the way. If you feel like you need to barf again, just tell me and I’ll pull over for you. Got it?”

He nods, looking determined.

And God bless his determination because we stop twice more on the way back to the ranch.

The first thing we do is strip down outside. At least all pieces of barfy clothes. Which for him is everything, and for me is just my tank top over my bikini.

The shower proves a challenge because he can’t stop retching.

I’ve never felt more helpless. I’ve never felt teary watching someone get sick—usually I’m just annoyed—but watching his little body heave so violently has the back of my throat aching and my eyes watering.

He’s finally clean, seems relatively empty, and just looks totally exhausted standing in the middle of his room.

“When will my dad be home?”

I check my watch. “In about an hour. I’m going to call him and get our clothes in the wash. Take a quick shower. How about you lie down?”

He nods, standing in front of me, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I want to sleep in my dad’s bed.”

“Yeah, of course.” I know he often sleeps there on the weekends, but weekdays are tough because Cade wakes up so early. We’ll figure it out later. “Let’s go.” I hold my hand out to Luke, but he just nods again, clearly out of it.

I touch his forehead and it feels hot. But maybe that’s from the shower? Fuck, I don’t know. I’d ask Harvey for help, but he isn’t back yet. Rhett is on the road. Summer is at work.

I opt to scoop Luke up, propping his chin on my shoulder. His little arms wrap around my neck and my arms fold under his legs so that I’m carrying him like a koala.

He sighs when I press a kiss to his hair without even thinking. I don’t know what’s appropriate anymore. I know he’s not my kid, but he feels like mine in some little way. He feels like mine enough to comfort him when he’s sick.

I carry him down the hall, trying not to stress at how heavy he feels in my arms. He’s just tired. He has a tummy bug. Kids get sick. He’s not on his deathbed—or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I nudge Cade’s door open with my foot and take in his room. The door is always closed, and I feel like I’m invading his privacy, but I’m also insanely curious. Like the rest of the house, his room is warm and airy, a total contrast to the main house where his dad lives. The walls are a creamy yellow, framed by big crown moldings painted a high-gloss white. The oak bed frame is stained a yellowish tone, and in most cases I would say it’s dated—but something about it works in here. Topped with a cream and navy plaid duvet set, the space is still masculine without being dark.

It’s honestly not what I was expecting.

Once I gently slide Luke onto the king-sized bed, I peel back the duvet and tuck him in. He’s already half-asleep, but he groans when I fold the blanket in tight around him.

Peeking over my shoulder, I see the door to a small en suite bathroom. With a few steps over, I push it open, deciding this setup is ideal.

The bathroom is tight quarters, just a toilet and a sink and vanity. It’s clean, and it smells like Cade’s signature pine smell mixed with something spicy and sweet.

I momentarily wonder if it would be weird to just hang out in here for a few minutes.

A small whimper from the bed draws me from my thoughts. I flip the toilet seat up—marveling at a man existing who puts it down in the first place—and head back out.

Bending over a slightly delirious Luke, I whisper, “If you feel sick, you just go straight into your dad’s bathroom, okay?”

He offers me a small nod without opening his eyes, and I run a hand over his forehead. Still hot.

“I’ll be here if you need anything.” Then I press another kiss to his feverish temple and pad softly out of the room, already reaching for my phone and dialing as soon as I’m in the hallway.

“Red.” Cade’s voice has a bite to it today. I’m sure some people would flinch, but I just roll my eyes. “Now isn’t a great time.”

“Okay, it’s just that—”

“If this is about your panties, save it for your morning text.”

Dick.

“Luke is sick, so get your head out of your ass and talk to me for once.”

“Is he okay?” His tone changes instantly.

“He threw up on our way back from a day at the spray pad in town. And then he threw up a lot more. He’s clean. He wanted to go in your bed, so he’s sleeping there. It’s close to a toilet, so that’s a bonus. But I know you wake up early for work, so I’m sorry about that too. I’m worried he’s too hot. Do you have a thermometer? What do I do? Do I make him drink something? I’m really worried I’m fucking this up. Also, I kissed him on the forehead and I’m feeling like I need to tell you that because I don’t know if that’s okay. I know he’s not my kid, but he just seemed like he needed comforting and—”

“Willa,” his voice is soft now.

“Yeah?”

“Take a deep breath.”

“I don’t want to. There’s barf on me and it smells terrible.” My voice cracks and I don’t know why. It’s like getting everything out of my brain and sharing it with Cade has me all up in my feels.

“Everything is okay.” Who knew such a simple sentence could put me at ease so instantly. “He always spikes a solid fever when he gets sick. You’re doing great. We’re lucky to have you here helping us. Luke loves you. You’ll never catch flack from me for comforting him.”

“Okay.” The words come out watery and I blink hard, trying to regain my composure.

“Here’s what you’re going to do. Are you listening?”

“Yes.” I sigh, already feeling relieved at having Cade take control of the situation. He’s so sturdy—there’s a dependability about him that I love. He’s practical. He works hard. He’s decisive.

It’s a relief to have him on the other end of my phone.

“You’re going to go take a shower before you do anything else.” Under different circumstances, the prospect of Cade ordering me to shower would excite me. “Then you’re going to go into the hall closet. There’s a digital thermometer in there so you don’t even need to wake him to check his temperature. Just aim it at his forehead. There is also children’s Tylenol in there. It might be hard to keep down, so you can always use the syringe and just give him a little when he wakes up and see what happens. Water or ginger ale—small sips.”

“What do you mean when he wakes up? Aren’t you coming home soon?”

I swear he growls. “We’ve got a fence down by the highway and are rounding up cows. I’m going to be late. Any other day I’d already be on my way, but I can’t leave them out by the road.”

“What if I mess this up? Luke isn’t a martini I can just toss out and try again with.”

The deep rumble of Cade’s laugh filters through the receiver.

“You are not laughing at me right now!”

“Willa. You will not mess it up. You need to believe in yourself. You’re smart. You’re capable. You’re determined. I know you are because you made me like you when I swore I never would.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You got this. I’ll be late, but I have total faith in you.”

“Well then, you’re stupider than you look,” I mutter.

“That supposed to be a compliment, Red?” is all he says before I sigh and hang up.