“Alright. I’ll drive first tonight while you sleep, and we’ll switch in the morning. That way we can both get some rest–”
“I can drive,” Luke chimes in, interrupting me from the doorway, smirking like he’s volunteering for hero duty.
“Not while haulin’ the horses you can’t,” I shoot back.
“You’re a dick.”
I scoff, roll my eyes. Same old shit.
“We need to leave in twenty,” Dad says, giving me that look—the one that means go do what you need to do with Layla so we can hit the road.
I head out the back door, screen slamming behind me louder than I mean it to. There’s a stone path from the main house down to the pool, another from the guest house. Layla must’ve heard the slam because she looks up, smiles that slow, warm smile that hits me square in the chest every damn time.
I open the gate, step inside the fenced area. She closes her laptop right away, sets it on the little side table, gives me her full attention like I’m the only thing worth looking at.
“Hey handsome,” she says, tilting her head up at me from the lounge chair. That swimsuit, Jesus. The way it clings to her breasts, the high cut showing off those thick thighs I love wrapping around me. So curvy. So right. So mine, even if I haven’t said it out loud yet.
“Hey good lookin’. We’re about to leave. I wanted to tell you bye.”
She laughs, bright, real and slaps her thigh playfully. “So Texas is stealing my cowboy away, huh?” She picks up her phone, holds it out to me. “Put your number in here so I can text you.” Smiling like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“I don’t text,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I mean, I do, but my phone’s for emergencies and work purposes.”
Her face changes for a split second, something sharp flickers in her eyes, like I just stung her. Then she pastes the smile back on, quick and polite.
“Oh okay, I understand.” She nods, sets the phone down.
Stands up from her chair and hugs me, passive, arms loose around my waist, not the tight cling I’m used to. Yeah, that definitely pissed her off.
“I mean, if it means a lot to you I can give you my number,” I add quickly. “Maggie has it as well if something were to happen—”
“No no no, it’s fine. No big deal. Your phone is for work, I get it.” She says it nicely, but there’s an edge under the sweetness. She steps back.
“See you when you get back?” She winks, trying to play it light.
“Eight days.” I wink back.
She comes up close then, rises on her toes, kisses my cheek—soft, lingering. Looks me dead in the eyes for a long beat, like she’s memorizing something. Then she plops back down into her lounge chair, crosses her legs, picks up her laptop again like nothing happened.
“Let’s go!” Luke hollers from up the hill next to the truck.
I look back at Layla one more time. She’s all smiles again, waving like it’s casual. I smile back, forced, because my chest feels tight.
Fuck, I will miss that. Her face. Her body. Those lips. The way she looks at me like I’m worth something more than just the ranch and the work. But this week is about the horses, the show, long drives, late nights in the barn, no sleep. I won’t have time to focus on anything or anyone once we get to Texas. Just work, exhaustion, and maybe, just maybe, Layla will miss me. Feel what it’s like to not have me around every night, every morning. Might make her think twice about August. Might make her realize this isn’t just fun anymore
.I say goodbye to Nancy and Maggie–quick hugs, promises to call if anything goes wrong—then hop in the driver’s side, start the engine. The truck rumbles to life, diesel growls filling the quiet. I glance in the side mirror as we pull out. She’s still there by the pool, head down over her laptop again, but I swear she looks up right as we turn the bend, watching us go.
Eight days.
Chapter 18
Egg on her head
Layla
It’s been a few days since Cole left for Texas, and this morning I’m really starting to kind of miss him. I guess? God, I hate even saying that—even in my own head it feels too vulnerable, too attached. We’re supposed to be nothing more than friends with benefits, hot, no-strings, mind-melting sex that leaves me boneless and smiling for hours. That’s the deal we agreed on.
But now that he’s gone, the ranch feels… off. Like someone turned down the volume on everything. No low rumble of his voice in the kitchen at dawn, no heavy boots on the porch steps, no sudden appearance at the guest house door with that crooked half-grin and a plate of eggs like it’s no big deal. The quiet is louder without him.
