The smile he gives me is flat, but his hands squeeze mine before he pushes to stand. “Take the Tylenol and get some rest.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“I’ll take your bed,” he says over his shoulder. “I can wash the sheets tomorrow.”
And then, he’s walking away, leaving me holding a pill, a drink, and the tattered remains of my ego. In a bed that smells like him and makes me wish he were here with me.
“Cade?”
He stops just as his hand wraps around the door handle. “Yeah?” he replies without even looking at me.
“Will you stay?”
His body goes eerily still. No part of him moves. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was dead.
Actually, come to think of it, I wish I was dead after blurting that out like some dork with a crush on the hot, grumpy single dad who just told me I’m too complicated for him. I should have more pride and shouldn’t put him in such an awkward position. But here I am, asking him to stay.
He turns, brow low, expression tight. “Stay?”
“Yeah . . .” I bite my lip, crumpling a little under the intensity of his scowl. “Just for a bit. Just to chat. Or something.”
He stares at me for a few beats, a glimpse of shock darting across his hard features. He did not expect me to ask him to stay.
But with a firm nod in my direction, he takes quiet steps back to the bed.
And he stays.
18
Cade
Lance: Can I swing by and practice with you one day this week?
Cade: Sure.
Lance: Wednesday?
Cade: Sure.
Lance: Will the nanny be there?
Cade: Fuck off, Lance.
Lance: Lmao. So angry all the time. See you on Wednesday!
“Tell me about young Cade.”
I’m sitting as far away from Willa as I possibly can. If I could build a wall of pillows down the middle of this bed, I would. Not that it would stop me from dragging her underneath me.
Terrible, horrible, no good, unbelievably bad idea.
Even her questions I don’t want to answer aren’t helping distract me from the nearness of her. The smell of her.
The fucking temptation of her.
“Um.” I clear my throat. “I dunno. Not much to tell.” Propping my hands across my stomach, I chance a peek over at her.
She’s a little pale, the dark circles under her eyes highlighted only by the dim glow of the bedside light.
She’s fucking beautiful.
All sloping lines. Her neck. Her nose. The bottom line of her jaw. There’s an elegance about her. Willa Grant is classy. She’s got fancy written all over her, yet she walks around in old concert tees and is just crazy enough to knock a kid into a pool for revenge.
She’s so much more than meets the eye, and sitting in a dark room with only a small stretch of soft mattress between us, I have to admit to myself that the way I want her is about so much more than how she looks.
She captured my attention the first time I laid eyes on her, and I haven’t been able to look away since.
It’s goddamn distracting.
“Come on. Were you this serious as a kid? Or were you like Luke?” She says it lightly, but I can see the way her eyes have started to sag.
“I was nothing like Luke. And I don’t want Luke to be anything like me either. My mom dying changed too much.”
She nods solemnly but doesn’t start dithering over me, which I appreciate. For someone who grew up privileged, there’s an inherent practicality about Willa. Something in the way her mind works. I see it when she talks to Luke. She’s not prissy or high maintenance. She’s down to earth, and I love that about her. Even if she is delusional about accepting compliments.
“I watched her die that day. I watched my dad hold her. I watched him sob.” My teeth grind, and I drop my eyes for a moment. “I think my childhood kind of died that day too.”
I glance at her wide green eyes, a little shiny now. Her strawberry lips slightly part, and she nods again. I appreciate she doesn’t fill the silence with meaningless words.
“Maybe I was practical from an early age. Strategic?” I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to sound like a martyr or something.”
“You don’t.” Her reply is soft and firm.
“But I saw a need, even as a child. Our family needed help. And I opted to help. I guess I never stopped. Duty-bound or something. I don’t regret it, but I also didn’t get lazy, goofy summers. When I came home from school, I took care of my brothers so my dad didn’t have to come in early from work. The neighbors pitched in. Mrs. Hill helped with Luke until she was just too old to keep up. But I didn’t want him to spend his summer working around the ranch or getting dragged everywhere with me. It’s fun for a day. Not for two months.”