“And you had to be married to someone who looks like a Victoria’s Secret model,” I rave as I rummage the drawers to find a wine opener. “And she’s got that stupid, breathy voice that I’ve only ever heard in porn.”

Another drawer. No corkscrew. I spin on Cade, who is giving me his full attention now. “I swear to God if she lays her shiny manicured claws on you one more time, I’m going to cut her hands clean off.”

“You’re so vicious, Red,” he says with a stupid glint in his eye, like this is all just hilarious to him. “Are you jealous, baby?”

I turn away again, not wanting to look at how hot he is and see her with him. I am having a full-on meltdown, and I hate everything about this situation. I’ve never felt like this before, and it’s fucking confusing.

“Yes, I’m jealous. She’s had everything with you and I’m just the fucking nanny.” God, I hate the way those words sound coming out of my mouth. Heat sears my chest. Embarrassment fuses with a heavy dose of envy.

I pull a drawer open and rifle through it to busy my shaking hands.

My fingers run up against something silky in the drawer full of scissors, elastics, clips, and Post-it notes. I grab and pull and peer down into my palm.

The black panties I dropped in that coffee shop all those weeks ago.

Turning back, I dangle them in my fingers. Cade doesn’t look surprised at all; he just regards me with his Annoyed Scowl.

“You kept these?” I demand, sounding petulant even to myself. “You told me you threw them away.”

“I lied,” he grits out.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve never been just the nanny, Willa.” My chest lurches as I look back at him, feeling suspended in time. “You’ve always been more. The woman I wanted but wouldn’t let myself have.”

“I could really use that drink now,” I say, still staring at him.

“No. You’re going to stand here and listen to me.” He prowls toward me in a way that sets my heart racing. My blood heats in my veins.

When he’s standing right in front of me, he tips my chin up and forces me to look into his eyes. “I’m not mad about whatever Talia told you because I don’t give a fuck about her and her antics. I have Luke. Wouldn’t trade him for the world. How that came about doesn’t even matter anymore because I truly just do not care.”

My heavy breathing acts as a backdrop to the deep rasp of his voice.

“Do you know what I care about though?” His fingers bite into my skin. “You, Willa. I care about you. You have nothing—and I mean nothing—to be jealous of.”