Something about Layla being here—about her presence—makes me realize how shut off I’ve been. How tense. How closed down. And now? It feels like something’s cracking open.
Maybe this is what I needed. Maybe she’s not here to stay, but maybe she’s here to remind me how to feel again.
Luke jogs back over, grinning. “Man,” he says. “You really got a thing for her.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, though I’m smiling as I rub Callie’s neck.
“Hey girl,” I murmur, my hand resting over her warm belly.
But my thoughts drift right back to Layla. The way she sounds when she laughs. The way she looks at me like she sees something worth wanting.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want her.
“You think she’ll stay?” Luke asks suddenly.
The question hits harder than it should.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “She’s got deadlines. A whole life waiting for her.”
“You gonna ask her to?”
I stiffen. “Drop it, Luke.”
He nods, going quiet, and I exhale slowly.
This damn kid needs to mind his business.
I glance at him, trying to change the subject. “What about you and Stephanie?”
He brightens instantly. “What? Want to talk about my love life now?” He raises an eyebrow at me. ”I’m thinking about marrying her.”
That stops me cold.
“You’re nineteen!” I say louder than I should’ve.
“We’ve been together six years,” he says. “High school, everything. I don’t think about other girls. Steph’s it for me.”
Something settles in my chest.
“That’s… good luke,” I tell him, and I mean it.
Watching him talk about love so openly, without fear, without walls, makes me proud of my baby brother. Maybe I didn’t screw everything up after all. Or maybe Layla just walked into my life and showed me exactly what I’ve been missing.
After I finish grooming the horses with Luke, I finally let him off the hook. Truth is, I’m exhausted, not from work, but from the night before with Layla. We were up pretty damn late, and I can still feel her skin against mine if I think about it too long.
She’s still out there, stretched out in the lounge chair, laptop balanced on her thighs. She keeps scribbling things in her notebook, then typing fast on her computer, then scribbling again like her brain can’t keep up with her fingers. I never thought I’d go for the nerdy type — hell, I never thought I’d find writing sexy — but the way she does it? Focused. Intense. Lost in her own world. It’s hot as hell. But also annoying as hell.
I walk over to her, and she doesn’t even notice me at first. She’s completely in the zone, lower lip caught between her teeth, brows pinched together like she’s wrestling something important onto the page.
“Hey,” I say, leaning closer. “You gonna write all day, or do you have time to take a break?”
She jumps a little, then looks up at me and smiles that easy, warm smile that hits me right in the chest every time.
“Take a break,” she says loudly, snapping her laptop shut. “Thank goodness.”
I chuckle under my breath.
“Do you have any plans, or…?” she asks, tilting her head and winking at me like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
