I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest, a little surprised by her taking this seriously rather than laughing me off. And a little relieved that I don’t have to lay into him—again.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes are instantly shrink-wrapped. He’s a sensitive kid. It doesn’t take much to put him back in place.
Willa nods, taking another green bean between her lips. “I know you are. You’re a good person. But when you trick me, it breaks my trust. And your dad is trusting me to keep you safe, and we need to respect his rules, at least sometimes. Because now we’ve broken his trust too. Does that make sense to you?”
There’s a part of me that wants to jump in and protect Luke. But the fact of the matter is, Willa is right. She’s talking to him respectfully, like an adult, and I can’t fault her.
I’m also just so relieved to have support, even if it comes in the form of Willa Grant. The redheaded mouthpiece who makes eating green beans look pornographic.
Because my dad just acts like Luke is hilarious all the time—which is fine. In fact, that’s why I don’t want him to be Luke’s full-time caretaker. I don’t want to ruin their friendship. I also don’t want Luke to turn into Mowgli. A little wild boy raised by a pack of wild men all living together on a ranch.
It’s fucking weird if I think about it too much.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Luke says carefully.
“I know you are, buddy.”
“I just wanted to have some fun. It sounded so fun! It really was fun!”
“We’re ranchers—farmers, Luke. It’s a waste of good food.”
“I know,” he replies, defeated. And then he brightens as he glances up at me. “Next time you cover the Jansen’s tractor in toilet paper, can I do it too?”
How the fuck does he know about that prank?
I see Willa’s lips twitch, but she keeps her focus fixed on her plate. And then she goes for another green bean, and I have to look away.
This kid is going to be the death of me.
And so is his goddamn nanny.
Putting Luke to bed is my favorite part of the night. The cuddles. The stories. The things he tells me in the safety of his dark, peaceful room. He goes all soft and sweet, and we talk about things that don’t come up throughout the day. It’s why I’ll never give up that part of his schedule.
My second favorite part of the night? A hot tub to soothe away the aches of the day. A quiet moment in my most frivolous purchase. Time alone to stare up at the stars and enjoy a little solitude.
Which is what I’m doing, head tipped back, arms draped over the outer edges, when I hear the back door click shut. My lids pop open, and I see Willa’s silhouette through the rising steam around me.
“Shit, sorry. I’ll leave,” she whispers, turning to go, towel wrapped around her tall frame.
A smart man would say, Yes, please leave. That’s an excellent idea.
I am not a smart man.
Instead, I blurt out, “It’s fine.” After all, I told her to make herself at home and use whatever she wanted. Truthfully, I can’t blame a person for wanting to soak out here after chasing a five-year-old all day.
“You sure? I thought you were in bed.” It’s hard to hear her because, for once, she sounds a little uncertain. It’s hard to see her too through the heated haze rising off the bubbling water. The shape of her is only highlighted by the glow from within the house, seeping through the sliding glass doors.
I should stop using the rising steam as an excuse to stare at her this hard. It’s rude. She’s in her twenties and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
I tip my head back again and let my eyes flutter shut. “Wouldn’t say it was fine if it wasn’t, Red.”
I hear shuffling and a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, you’d tell me to beat it.”
Fuck.
She’s not trying to be forward. But the words beat it out of her mouth in that slightly hoarse voice has the air around me feeling altogether too thin.
Fabric rasps and gentle steps move toward the tub. I squeeze my eyes tighter, refusing to give in to the voice inside my head telling me to peek. To watch her climb over the edge. To see what type of bathing suit she’s wearing and if her skin is as creamy as it looked from that glimpse I could see beyond her shirt yesterday.
I ignore the flipping sensation in my stomach.
The gentle sound of water sloshing tells me she’s crawling in. Hot water laps at my chest as she settles, and suddenly sharing a hot tub with this woman who I barely know and can’t stop eye-fucking feels entirely inappropriate.