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Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(23)

Author:Elsie Silver

The fridge door creaks open. A bottle cap hisses as it pops open. I can imagine Cade’s throat working as he takes a deep pull of a what I assume is a beer. He’s close now. He must be staring out the screen door.

Luke presses in against my hip, and I absently wonder what Cade is thinking.

“This fucking woman is going to be the death of me.”

Okay. So that’s what he’s thinking. I take a strange sort of pride in his statement.

The door swings open, and he steps out onto the porch, which is right when Luke and I jump out from behind a planter.

“Boo!” I shout, as Luke yells, “Chipmunks!”

Cade flies back, and I glance down at Luke, wondering what the hell would inspire him to randomly scream chipmunks. But I don’t think about that for long, because when I look back up Cade’s stern face is the color of a tomato and he’s wearing his beer down the front of his fresh T-shirt.

Oh yeah. We got him good.

All I offer is a lame attempt at a joke. “Wet T-shirt contest?”

And all I get back is a scowl.

“Willa, how has your first week been?” Cade’s dad, Harvey, smiles at me from across the table. It’s my first family dinner at the ranch, and I’m downright enamored. It’s so . . . wholesome?

When I walked into the dining room, Cade pulled a chair out and stared at me until I figured out he meant me to sit there. After I did, he tucked me into the table and one of his calloused hands brushed casually—mistakenly—over my bare neck.

But it flustered me all the same. Sent gooseflesh out over my arms all the same. The simplest touch has taken up residence in my mind for no good reason.

I finish chewing and return Harvey’s smile, but it’s Cade’s dark eyes I feel on me from beside his dad. The similarities between them are insane. It’s like I can see how Cade will look in twenty some-odd years.

Which is to say, good.

“It’s been great. Luke and I have had a lot of fun. Haven’t we, Luke?” I tilt my head to gaze down at him. He insisted on sitting beside me, even though he hasn’t seen his dad since last night. We came up to the main house early and Cade met us here.

The little boy beams up at me. “Sure did.”

Cade scowls. It’s what he did when Luke moved across the table, away from him.

“The most fun!”

Harvey’s kind eyes turn back toward his grandson. “What have you been doing?”

Luke peers around the table, grinning at everyone. He’s the kind of kid who flourishes under attention rather than crumbles under it. And everyone is here. Both of Cade’s brothers, Rhett and Beau. Summer, of course. Even the hockey player, Jasper Gervais, who everyone loses their mind over—apparently, he grew up here on the ranch.

I’m just snoopy enough to wish I knew more about his story. Where his parents are and how he got to where he is. The fact he hasn’t said a damn word throughout dinner has me even more curious. He smiles at people from behind the brim of his team cap. Little smirks and winks. He seems nice enough. He seems like he requires more investigation.

Beau, on the other hand, has barely stopped talking. Except for now. When Luke talks, everyone listens.

“We threw lettuce out the window while driving really fast down the back road!” For a kid who seemed suitably chastised a few days ago, he sure is hamming it up now.

“Goddamn. That sounds like fun.” Beau shakes his head and spears some lettuce, a look of nostalgia touching every feature.

My eyes snap to Cade’s, who is scowling at his brother. I absently wonder which scowl that is. Irritated? Scolding?

Through the salad in his mouth, Beau adds, “I’m gonna do that with you when I get back from this deployment, Lukey. We’ll do watermelons instead.”

“Yes!” Luke shoots up in his seat, like he’s forgotten the conversation we had earlier this week.

“You sure as shit are not.” Cade pushes the salad around his plate even harder. Hard enough that the tines of his fork screech across his plate. This guy needs to work out some goddamn tension.

My mom would say he needs some good sex.

I’m not so sure she’d be wrong.

“Luke and I have had some good chats about food scarcity this week,” I pipe up to defuse the conversation. “That not everyone is as fortunate as he is. We dug out a garden and today we planted our lettuce seeds, didn’t we?”

He nods enthusiastically at me, and I’m relieved I wasn’t a total buzzkill. Five isn’t too young to hear some truths about the world, but I’m wondering if I overstepped.

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