“How much stuff are you gettin’?” I ask.
“Oh, you know—just toiletries, snacks, food. I’ll probably have dinner with you guys most nights, so not too much.”
Famous last words.
We hit the hygiene aisle first. Deodorant. Toothpaste. Shampoo. Conditioner. Why can’t one bottle do everything? Then body wash. Body scrub. Razors. Shaving cream. Things I’ve never heard of. Her cart fills fast.
Food aisle next. Chips. Cookies. Frozen meals. Sweet tooth. I clock that immediately. Figures.
“It’s been an hour, Layla,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“I’m ready,” she says easily.
She looks at my basket. Six-pack of beer. Zebra cakes. That’s all I need.
“That’s all you got?”
“That’s all I got.”
“You came all this way for beer and zebra cakes?”
“Yes. Now pay the man so we can get outta here.”
She shakes her head, sliding her card anyway. “Thank you!” she tells the cashier.
Outside, she starts unloading her stuff.
“Go ahead and get in,” I say. “I’ll handle this.”
“What a gentleman.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
She smirks and grabs the keys out of my hand.
The drive back is quieter. Better. Music playing. Her looking out the window, scribbling in her notebook. Writing something. I try not to wonder what. She dozes off halfway back. Head tilted. Mouth open. Soft snore. All that caffeine and she still passed out. She shouldn’t be this comfortable.
The gravel crunches under the tires, waking her.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I must’ve dozed off.”
I pull up short.
“Son of a bitch.”
Her head snaps up. “What’s wrong? Who’s that?”
I stare at the car parked out front.
“Maggie,” I say. “My sister.”
Chapter 3
City Girl Rides A Horse.
Layla
And that’s a bad thing? Cole barely has the truck in park before he jumps out, slamming the door shut behind him. He moves fast and purposeful, straight toward the woman standing in front of the house.
