Page 18 of Labor of Love

“I was your age when you were born, son.” My father shrugs.

“The kitchen has great lighting for Layla to sit at the table and paint with the kids,” my mother adds.

Layla?

When have I ever led on about her?

“If I was settled down in a relationship, children could be a possibility.” Right now, I need to secure my dream girl before having a child. “Please chill. Layla’s a friend.” My tone is firmer than I usually use with them.

“Oh Stetson, who are you trying to fool?” My mother laughs wholeheartedly. “That girl has always had eyes for you. Your father and I watched you love every second of it.” She raises her lemonade to me. “And we see the look on your face when Layla’s name is mentioned.”

I…I have no words. Hiding anything from my parents has been a challenge—not that I kept much from them with our close relationship. This should come as no surprise, yet I’m stunned.

“How protective you are with her, too,” my father adds.

Of course he heard about the fair. Both smile proudly as I blink like an idiot trying to keep my cool. Attempting and failing to not give them the satisfaction. Finishing up my plate in silence, I step away from the makeshift table.

“While lunch has been delightful, I’m in need of a shower and time off our property.”

“You’re welcome, daydreamer.” She pulls out my childhood nickname, and I bite back a remark because it will only confirm how right they are. “Tell Layla we said hi.”

Don’t respond...Don’t look back.

“If I cross her path, I will.” I couldn’t help myself. “See you tonight.” Now it’s time to get my girl.

8

LAYLA

Acool shower on a hot Texas day is nothing to take for granted. With Stetson on my mind throughout the market—the way his muscles tensed with every touch, the passion in every swipe of his tongue and nip of his teeth—I needed all the cooling down I could get. The water refreshes my soul like last night’s admittance renewed my faith in him. A spark of trust to take everything he says at face value again. Being each other’s firsts erased the perception I’ve held onto. That night was just as meaningful to him.

For two and a half years, I've carried his touch. The memory like a wound that never quite healed. But he’s always been a balm to the anguish.

Eyes raising to the bathroom mirror, I stare at myself, every feature exactly as it was before. But something new shines through. Something a lot like hope.

My fingers brush over my bottom lip. Stetson’s kiss lingers while my stomach flips, aching for another chance to be alone with him.

A knock rattles my apartment door. Smiling wide, Karli thinks she’s so clever. Right on cue, I happen to be naked.

“It’s open!” I yell, grab a towel, and walk out of the bathroom. “I’m unclothed like I said I’d be!” My giggle strangles my throat. Stetson stands in my kitchen with a clenched jaw. His eyes roam me top to bottom like I’m about to be his next meal…I can't say I hate the feeling.

My words trap. “You’re––you’re not...Karli…”

Stetson’s mouth opens, then closes as he tilts his head curiously. “Am I supposed to be?” He huffs a nervous laugh. “Are you two––”

“No! An inside joke…never mind.” His eyes magnetize on the hem of my towel, not caring about my answer. “What are you doing here?”

“You invited me in.” His throat tightens with an attempt to swallow. My stomach swirls with excitement. “I came to talk.” He adjusts his backwards hat, dropping his eyes down my body.

“Did you now?” I step forward.

“Yeah.” He grips the counter, his forearm tightening as his veins grow.

Are other veins protruding as well?

“You wanna talk here?” He nods in response, jaw set firm while his eyes bounce around the kitchen. It’s almost comical.

“Yeah.” His minty breath rattles out of him. Am I actually making him nervous? This effect on Stetson is empowering.