Willa: That’s insane. I’m not paid enough to decipher a man’s scowls. Here’s the new deal. If your shitty version of matchmaker doesn’t work out, you’re the new nanny. End of story. And you’re going to do it with a smile. They need help.
Summer: Adorable. You’re already protective.
The screen door bangs shut loudly, which means Cade is home. Crabby Cade stomping in after a long day of doing god knows what with a bunch of cows and cowboys.
“Welcome home, Master Cade,” I announce with a flourish as he walks into the kitchen, shooting me a scowl. An annoyed scowl?
“What are you doing? And why are you calling me that?” Cade’s voice rumbles dangerously.
“Stirring the spaghetti sauce that the young Padawan requested, I am.” Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers. He can clearly see that I’m moving a spoon around in a pot full of Bolognese sauce.
He glowers at me like I’m the least funny person he’s ever met. “And I’m talking like this because it’s hard to get out of character after playing Star Wars all afternoon.”
“You’re not supposed to cook dinner.” His fingers rap against the marble countertop, but his eyes stay fixed on the pot. Lately it’s like he totally avoids looking at me.
“The force is just too strong with me in culinary arts. Young Luke has announced that my cooking is superior to yours.” I smirk at him, getting far too much enjoyment out of needling him, especially since I know he loves to cook and is damn good at it.
The manly man across from me just scoffs, finally lifting his eyes. “He did not.”
“He did.”
His arms cross petulantly. “I don’t believe you.”
I smile prettily. “Okay, Darth Cade.”
At that moment, Luke blasts into the kitchen from washing up. “No! I want dad to be Jar Jar Binks!”
Cade’s forehead wrinkles and he appears genuinely confused. “What the hell is a Jar Jar Binks?”
Luke and I dissolve into a fit of giggles. Cade ignores us and removes the spoon from my hand, dips it in the pot, before lifting it to his lips for a sample. His only reaction is a low grumble. Which is practically a five-star review coming from him.
“What is all that laundry doing on my bed?”
It seems like every day I do something helpful around the house, and Cade finds a way to complain about it, like I’ve gravely offended him.
I pop a chip into my mouth and don’t bother looking at him from where I’m sprawled on the couch. I already know he’s scowling. I practically see that expression on the back of my eyelids every night when I try to fall asleep.
“I did a couple of loads today and wasn’t sure where it all went.”
“You’re not supposed to do my laundry.”
“Well, you’re not supposed to interrupt me watching Gossip Girl reruns. But here we are.”
“I don’t need you to do my laundry.”
I sit up with a deep sigh. “Okay. We’re really fixating on that? It was some towels and a few sweaters. Not your tight boxers. So let’s just cool our jets, yeah? They were already in the basket, and I’m not lazy, so I tossed them in the washer. Not a big deal. No need to put me on death row over it.”
He stares at me, but rather than scowling, he appears a little perplexed. “No one has ever done my laundry for me.”
“Probably because it’s not worth facing the electric chair over.”
He just glares at me.
“Imagine if I dropped a red sock in with your white towels? Oof. Brutal. End of days.”
More glaring.
I pop another chip into my mouth. “Is this where you try to melt me with the power of your mind because I had the gall to help you with a chore?”
“Anyone ever told you that you’re rude?” is all he comes back with.
I grin at him before turning back to the TV and cranking the volume. “Says the guy who still hasn’t given my panties back.”
“Willa!” I hear Cade calling from inside the house. But Luke and I are hiding outside on the back porch, waiting to jump out and scare him. “Where are you guys?”
“Luke?” His footsteps march through the house with authority. It feels like I might be in trouble for something, but I always feel that way with Cade. “You hungry, pal?”
We don’t move an inch.
“What the hell,” he mutters, drawing nearer now. Probably in the kitchen.
Luke is behind me, and I peer down at him, his palm clamped across his mouth to hold back laughter. I raise a finger up to my lips, reminding him to keep his shit together and stay quiet.