“Thank you for apologizing. That was very not-baby-like.”

A smile touches his lips and I mirror the expression. I feel like the two of us just came to some sort of understanding.

When we turn to leave, I’m met with a far less friendly glare.

“Who are you?” a woman asks, hand propped on her hip with a grocery basket in the opposite hand. The way she draws out you reminds me of the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland puffing out smoke O’s. But all she’s blowing at me is bad breath.

Not a fan of the way she’s glaring at me either. Up and down with a little sneer on her face, like I’m yesterday’s roadkill.

Regardless, I smile sweetly—a little too sweetly—and say, “I’m Willa.”

The woman sniffs, the tip of her nose wiggling. I’m having a hard time placing how old she might be. The mini skirt and rhinestone sneakers make me think young, but the heavy makeup flaking in the creases on her forehead makes me think older. It’s a fascinating dichotomy.

“What are you doing out with Cade’s boy?” She bends down a bit to address Luke. “You okay, honey? Do you need my help?”

An earnest and confused look is what Luke gives her back, followed by, “Yeah?”

He rears back a little, and I think it might have to do with her breath. To be fair, I’d like to get as far away as possible too.

“You sure, baby? Is this woman taking you somewhere you don’t want to go?”

I roll my eyes. “If I were kidnapping a child, I wouldn’t stop at a grocery store to buy five heads of lettuce first. I’m his nanny.”

Her eyes narrow, but she turns them back on me. “I applied for that job.” She sniffs again as she straightens.

“Yeah, and my daddy said he’d rather roll around in the manure pile than hire you.”

My eyes nearly pop out of my head right as my hand slaps over my mouth to contain my amusement. This is a moment where I need to behave more grown-up than I’m feeling inside.

The woman blinks rapidly, heat rising on her neck. I honestly feel bad for her. I mean, we can’t be offended by the things a five-year-old says . . . but we can be offended by the things men who are pushing forty say.

“I’m so sorry.” I scoop Luke’s hand into my own and give her an apologetic look. “I, uh, I hope you have a lovely day.” Smiling brightly, I drag Luke toward the till, feeling so grateful that I’m off to a good start in this small town.

Dropping my panties and insulting the locals. And it’s only day two.