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Her admirer frowns at me as he walks away.
Layla whispers to me, “How do you know if an avocado is ripe?”
“It’s easy.” I pick up a couple and test their readiness, then put them back. When I find one that’s perfect, I hand it to her. “Here, squeeze this one. See how it’s not too hard and not too soft? You want one that gives just a little, but isn’t mushy.”
She nods as she slips that one into a produce bag, then carefully chooses another one.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“If we’re having tacos, we’ll need taco shells, ground beef, sour cream, and shredded cheddar. Oh, and salsa. Do you know where we can find those ingredients?”
“Follow me.” As I steer the cart away from the avocados, her admirer watches her go with a wistful expression on his face. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
“Did you say something?” Layla asks.
I smile innocently. “No. Nothing.”
* * *
After we get home and put the groceries away, Layla smiles at me. “Grocery shopping’s not that hard, is it?”
I can’t help grinning because she’s just so damn adorable. “Nope. Piece of cake.” And then, impulsively, I drop a kiss on her lips—just a quick one—because I can’t resist.
Her eyes widen in surprise. When her tongue darts out to lick her lip—right where I just kissed her, my dick hardens.
She gazes up at me, her eyes searching mine, and I know what she’s looking for. She’s looking formore.
“I forgot,” I say quickly, hoping to redirect her thoughts. “I need to put clean sheets on your bed.” And then I walk past her and out of the way of temptation. Just being near her is dangerous for my mental and physical health. If she knew the things I wanted to do to her, she’d probably run away screaming. And after everything she’s been through, I wouldn’t blame her one bit.
I grab a fresh set of bedding from the hall linen closet, strip the twin bed in the guest room—I mean Layla’s bedroom—and quickly make up the bed. I know she’s watching me from the doorway because I can feel her gaze on me. When I finish and step back to look at her, I see the range of emotion flitting across her face.
Disappointment. Confusion. Hurt.
Damn it.
I walk over and pull her into my arms. “Layla.”
But she slips out of my hold and walks away.
I follow her down the hallway. “Layla, wait.”
But she keeps walking, through the living room, and then she turns the corner and disappears into the kitchen. She’s gone as far away from me as she can possibly get without leaving the apartment.
I follow her as far as the living room, but then I stop at the patio door and gaze out toward the lake. Being with Layla is new territory for me, and I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to take the high road.
How much time do I give her? How much space?
The last thing I want to do is take advantage of her. And yet I’m disappointing her.I’m hurting her.
She’s probably as confused and lost as I am right now.
I find her in the kitchen staring out the window. From this vantage point, we can see the lights of Navy Pier off in the distance. The Ferris wheel is lit up like a beacon. “Have you ever been to the Pier?”
She nods. “Once, when I was little.”
“It’s changed a lot since then. Would you like to go sometime?”
She shrugs.
