Summer: He was being insane about the entire process. You’re perfect for the job. Luke is gonna love you.

Willa: OBVIOUSLY. I’m very loveable. Unless your name is Cade Eaton. Then I’m the object of all your exaggerated scowling.

Summer: He has different scowls. Haven’t you figured that out yet?

Willa: That’s insane. I’m not paid enough to decipher a man’s scowls. Here’s the new deal. If your shitty version of matchmaker doesn’t work out, you’re the new nanny. End of story. And you’re going to do it with a smile. They need help.

Summer: Adorable. You’re already protective.

* * *

The screen door bangs shut loudly, which means Cade is home. Crabby Cade stomping in after a long day of doing god knows what with a bunch of cows and cowboys.

“Welcome home, Master Cade,” I announce with a flourish as he walks into the kitchen, shooting me a scowl. An annoyed scowl?

“What are you doing? And why are you calling me that?” Cade’s voice rumbles dangerously.

“Stirring the spaghetti sauce that the young Padawan requested, I am.” Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers. He can clearly see that I’m moving a spoon around in a pot full of Bolognese sauce.

He glowers at me like I’m the least funny person he’s ever met. “And I’m talking like this because it’s hard to get out of character after playing Star Wars all afternoon.”

“You’re not supposed to cook dinner.” His fingers rap against the marble countertop, but his eyes stay fixed on the pot. Lately it’s like he totally avoids looking at me.

“The force is just too strong with me in culinary arts. Young Luke has announced that my cooking is superior to yours.” I smirk at him, getting far too much enjoyment out of needling him, especially since I know he loves to cook and is damn good at it.

The manly man across from me just scoffs, finally lifting his eyes. “He did not.”

“He did.”

His arms cross petulantly. “I don’t believe you.”

I smile prettily. “Okay, Darth Cade.”

At that moment, Luke blasts into the kitchen from washing up. “No! I want dad to be Jar Jar Binks!”

Cade’s forehead wrinkles and he appears genuinely confused. “What the hell is a Jar Jar Binks?”

Luke and I dissolve into a fit of giggles. Cade ignores us and removes the spoon from my hand, dips it in the pot, before lifting it to his lips for a sample. His only reaction is a low grumble. Which is practically a five-star review coming from him.

* * *

“What is all that laundry doing on my bed?”

It seems like every day I do something helpful around the house, and Cade finds a way to complain about it, like I’ve gravely offended him.