“You’ll keep him safe?” His voice is all gravel, his eyes like lasers tracing my features. And if he weren’t such a grumpy asshole, this whole overprotective dad vibe would totally do it for me.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

His gaze, full of questions and devoid of warmth, roams over my face, searching for something. “Will you teach him how to knit?”

My nose wrinkles. “Is that . . . is that like a requirement? Can I outsource it? I’m uh . . . not really big on knitting.”

I swear I see a cheek twitch.

“What will you do with him?”

I blow a raspberry and flop back in the chair. “I mean, the options are endless. I’m never bored. Does he ride yet? I could give him riding lessons. I could show him my guitar. Does he like music? I love music. Playdates with some other kids? Cooking? Ooh! I love to bake. How about garden? I bet you could grow some killer veggies out here.”

All I get is a small bob of his head.

“You would send me frequent text updates. I leave early in the morning but like to be home early enough to spend time with him in the evenings. I will do my best to give you weekends off. I know you’re young and probably want to maintain some sort of social life.”

I shrug and chuckle. I started bartending at eighteen. Seven years later, my desire to go out and party is pretty much shot.

I’ll take a boozy brunch with my bestie and a dirty book in bed by eight for a thousand, Alex.

“Not especially.”

Cade gazes out over the back yard, laughter bubbling from under the big willow tree. “Okay.”

I sit up straight. “Okay?”

He nods once, decisively.

“Is that okay like, Willa will you please come help me this summer because I would appreciate it so much?”

He rolls his eyes like I exasperate him. And I’m pretty sure I do. I might even be trying a little bit. I like the way the muscle in his jaw pops, the way his Adam’s apple bobs beneath tawny, tanned skin.

I even like the little shimmer of silver strands dusted throughout his dark hair.

Older guys. They’ve always done it for me.

Cade glances my way now, all raspy, rugged voice and resting bitch face. “I would appreciate your help this summer, Willa. But—”

I hold up a hand. “No buts. That was very polite. Excellent work. I’ll be back tomorrow and can start then. The way I understand it, you need someone right away, yes?” I push to stand, knowing I shouldn’t overstay my welcome or let him get too many demands in.

I can already tell he’s that type of man. Exacting. Specific. Knows what he wants and expects you to deliver.

“Yes,” he bites out, eyes perusing my body critically.