“Okay everyone, tickets out and ready!” she calls out.
And fuck, she fits here. Too well. Like the ranch already knows she’s dangerous.
She’s sweating now, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her neck. I track the way her chest rises, the way her body moves when she laughs. She keeps joking about wanting a pool, and all I can think about is the creek. The water. Her skin. The way she looked at me right before I ran.
She shoots me a look, tongue sticking out—hot, tired, playful.
I nod back, jaw tight.
A little boy starts crying, scared of the pony. Layla scoops him up without hesitation, settles him on her hip, murmuring something soft until his dad steps in. I can’t hear them over the noise, but I can see it. The dad’s flirting. Of course he is. She flirts back—easy, confident. Twirling her hair, hand on herhip like she doesn’t even have to try. She isn’t doing anything wrong. That’s what pisses me off. She isn’t checking to see if I’m watching. She doesn’t need to.
Then he hands her his phone. What. The. Fuck. She types something into it. She doesn’t hesitate and that guts me. My jaw locks. My fists curl. Heat crawls under my skin, ugly and possessive and completely unjustified.
She turns back to the next customer, smiling like she didn’t just knock the breath out of me. And I’m standing there pissed off, hard, jealous, and dangerously aware of the fact that she isn’t mine. So why does it feel like I’m already losing her? And why does the idea of another man touching her make my chest burn like it damn well should be me?
It’s starting to get dark now, the sky bleeding into deep purples and burnt orange, and people are packing up, trucks rumbling to life, kids dragging tired feet behind their parents. The air smells like barbecue and smoke and summer heat, and my stomach growls loud enough that I feel it in my ribs.
I’m starving.
I walk up to Layla, close enough that the heat rolling off her body reaches me.
“You did good today,” I say low, just for her.
She smiles up at me, that soft, open smile that makes my chest tighten. “Thanks, Scrooge. I appreciate that. I was worried I was going to let you down.”
I try to put a smile on my face, but the image of that guy talking to her earlier won’t leave me alone. Him standing too close. Her laughing. Her ease with it.
“Are you okay?” she asks, eyes scanning me from head to toe like she’s taking inventory.
Man… this girl notices everything.
I nod once. “I’m tired,” I say, even though it’s only half the truth.
She smiles, but I can tell she doesn’t buy it. Her eyes linger, searching, like she’s about to push. About to ask the question I don’t want to answer.
She opens her mouth—but then—
“Hey, girl!” Maggie calls, wrapping her arms around Layla’s shoulders from behind. “You did great! You ready to eat?”
“Oh my god, yes,” Layla laughs, already turning away. “I’m starving and hot and thirsty.”
She walks off with Maggie, her laugh trailing behind her, and damn—watching her walk away does something dark and hungry to me. The sway of her hips. The way she moves like she knows she’s being looked at, even if she pretends she doesn’t.
My thoughts go places they shouldn’t. She turns around. Catches me. Gives me that look. Slow. Knowing. Like she can read exactly where my mind just went.
I tilt my head and smirk back, heat pooling low in my gut. This thing between Layla ain’t over. It’s just begun.
Chapter 10
Tequila and Knuckle Sandwiches
Layla
What a day. Honestly? It was magical. Exhausting and hot and dusty and completely overwhelming in the best way. Cole watched me all day, I felt his eyes on me like he didn’t know how to look anywhere else. Like his attention kept snapping back to me no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
I don’t mind it. What I do mind is that I don’t think he’ll ever make a move. And I’m horny. Horny as fuck. And I’m lonely. That moment by the creek cracked something open in me, but it wasn’t enough. It just reminded me how much I’ve been denying myself—how tired I am of almosts and maybes and men who hesitate when they shouldn’t. I don’t want soft pecks or careful distance. I want confidence. Heat. Someone who knows how to take control without asking permission every step ofthe way. I don’t need romance. I don’t need promises. I need someone who won’t get feelings involved, someone who shows up, does the job, and doesn’t pretend it’s anything more than what it is. Because I can’t get feelings involved. I won’t. I’ll be back in Seattle by fall, and I can’t be worrying about emotions and love and all that bullshit. That kind of stuff just gets you hurt and I’ve already learned that lesson once.
Three weeks. That’s all it’s been since I got here, and being this close to Cole every day has me wound tight. A girl has needs. And tonight? I fully intend to meet mine.
