“Dad!” Luke flies around the corner of my father’s house like a bat out of hell as I stride around the front of my truck to open Willa’s door. I swear this kid never stops running . . . jumping . . . climbing. He’s taken years off my life for sure. “Willa!” he cries, when he sees her step out of the vehicle.

“You’re not my chauffeur, you know,” she murmurs as she takes my hand to hop down.

“I’ll add not opening your car door to the list of offenses—that includes not eating your pussy—from past men.”

She blushes and drops my hand, stepping away.

Keeping our hands off each other is going to be fucking torture. I can tell by the way her fingers trailed over my palm, like she wanted to hold contact for as long as possible.

Luckily for my ego, Luke launches himself at me first. I pull him up against me, noting how much heavier he’s grown. How much taller. He’s getting bigger faster than I care for. Growing up way too damn fast.

“Hey, pal. You have a good sleepover?”

“The best!” He smacks a loud kiss on my cheek, and I wonder what age he’ll stop doing that.

He pops down and does the same to Willa, except he wraps his arms around her waist. She doubles over, hair fanning around him as she hugs him back and whispers something private to him. Luke giggles, and Willa rubs a hand across the back of his head before dropping a quick kiss to his crown.

I stare at them like a lovesick fool, imagining something I’ve never let myself imagine. Luke’s had plenty of caretakers over the years—teachers, friends—but he’s never been as taken with a single person as he is with Willa. He’s needed someone like her in his life so badly.

And I guess that makes two of us because I can’t take my eyes off them.

“You having a stroke, son?” My dickhead dad calls from the front porch, actually making me jump.

I prop my hands on my hips, giving him my best say-nothing glare.

He’s not a stupid man. He’s grinning at me like he knows something. And I’m sure he does. I just don’t need him making it weird by making some joke about us giving the lawn a blow job or whatever shit he comes up with for entertainment.

I can’t wait to be old and retired and say things just to see how people will react to get my kicks. That’s the dream right there.

“Just tired,” is what I opt to respond with.

Harvey props himself against the post on the front porch with a knowing grin. “That’s what happens when you stay up too late partying at your age.”