I can see the indecision warring in her eyes. “Owen, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“Why not? You’ve slept next to me before.”
“That’s why. I can’t let myself get used to the safety and comfort of sleeping next to you.”
I sit up, letting the blanket pool at my waist. “I want you to get comfortable, and I always want you to feel safe. You are safe with me, Layla.”
She’s already shaking her head before I’m finished. “I’m not.” She taps her hand over her heart. “Right here,” she whispers. “I’m not safe right here.”
Just like that, another piece of my heart breaks off and finds its way floating toward her. “Come here, baby.” I pat the bed next to me. I’m prepared to argue my case, but she surprises me when she kicks off her shoes and asks for a shirt to sleep in. “In that dresser.” I point behind her. “Top drawer. The bathroom’s through that door.” I point, showing her.
“I’ll be right back.” I watch every move as she retrieves a T-shirt and disappears behind the bathroom door. I decide to send my brothers and my parents a message, letting them know I made it home in our group text.
Me: Just got in.
Royce: Layla?
Me: She’s with me.
Mom: Can’t wait to meet her.
Dad: Welcome home, son.
Marshall: When you bringing my girl over, bro?
Grant: Owen’s in Looovee.
Conrad: Owen and Layla sitting in a tree…
Mom: Leave your brother alone.
Me: Good night.
I power off my phone, knowing that my idiot brothers can keep their teasing going all night long. Normally it would annoy me because, before Layla, there was no one I would bring home to them or consider letting stay in my home. Things have changed. Layla has changed me.
The bathroom door opens, and I can’t help but stare as she makes her way toward the bed. “You want me to turn this off?” She points to the lamp.
“Do you need it? To feel safe?” I add.
“No,” she says, shaking her head at the same time.
“Turn it off.” She reaches for the lamp, and the room goes dark. “Layla.” My voice is husky even to my own ears. “Come to bed, baby.”
I feel the bed dip as she climbs in beside me. I reach for her in the darkness and pull her to my side, my front aligned with her back. My hand rests on her bare thigh, and my thumb traces her silky-smooth skin. With each pass of my thumb, I feel her body relax into me.
“Owen?” Her voice is soft as it fills the quiet room.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice rough.
“Goodnight.”
“Night,” I reply, sliding my hand to her belly and holding her close. It doesn’t take long for my body to relax and for sleep to claim me.
I’m standing at the stove frying bacon when I feel her. “Hungry?” I ask.
“How did you know I was standing here?” she asks, her voice moving closer.
“I could feel you.”
“Feel me?”
Pulling the bacon out of the pan, I place it on a plate lined with a paper towel, a trick I learned from watching my mom cook for us growing up. Turning off the burner and sliding the skillet to the back, I turn and wrap my arms around her. “Yes, I could feel you. I don’t know how, but I knew the moment you walked into the room.”
“Is this more of that magic you were talking about?” She smiles up at me.
“This is you, Lay, all you, baby,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“How did you know I love bacon?”
“Room service. That’s the first thing you went for. Bacon, and toast and jelly.” I nod to the island where I have several slices of toast sitting on a plate.
“Be careful, Riggins. You keep spoiling me like this I might never leave,” she teases.
Two things cross my mind. First, I love that she’s teasing and happy. I love the fact that she’s opening up and being herself around me. Second, I plan to spoil the hell out of her, and if that helps my case to get her to stay with me, so be it. Hands on her hips, I lift her up onto the counter. “Strawberry or grape?” I ask.
“What?” She cocks her head to the side, a smile playing on her lips.
“Strawberry or grape jelly?”
“Both.” She grins.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” she says, swiping a piece of bacon off the plate as I set it on the counter next to her. “So, what are we doing today? I assume we need to drop my things off at the apartment so we can take the rental back?”
“I thought we’d just put your things in the garage here, and then I’ll have you follow me in my car to turn the rental in. If we get there before noon, they won’t charge me for another day.” I’m not worried about the charge. The money isn’t the issue. I’m not ready for her to leave, and I’m hoping with time she’ll just stay with me and forget about Sawyer’s apartment.
“Can’t we just drop my stuff off on the way?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have a key. It’s not much, so it will be fine,” I assure her as I hand her a cup of coffee. I busy myself cutting a piece of toast in half slathering one side with strawberry jelly and the other with grape. “My queen,” I say, holding the jelly-covered toast to her lips. She giggles and takes a huge bite. I add grape to another piece and step between her thighs where she’s still sitting on the counter. Together, we eat breakfast in the most unconventional method, but it’s ours. I couldn’t think of a better way to start this day or our time together.
Chapter 12
Layla
I’m living in a fairy tale. I know that at any moment, I’m going to wake up and be in my shitty apartment in Florida. This can’t be real—this new life that literally just developed over a matter of weeks, all from meeting a handsome stranger.
“Layla.” Owen’s deep timbre pulls me out of my thoughts. “Where did you go?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Pinch me,” I say, holding out my arm.
“What?” he asks incredulously.
It’s not like I told him to kick a puppy. “Pinch me so I’ll wake up. I have to be dreaming.”
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“You just told me that you want me to drive that.” I point to the shiny car that costs more than I’ll probably ever earn in a lifetime.
“Yes, that’s my car. I assumed you didn’t want to drive my truck or my SUV since you are used to driving a car.”
“Why does one man have three vehicles?” Three! Who needs three vehicles?
“A man has to have a truck, and I take the SUV grocery shopping, it holds more, and the car, it’s just a luxury. I usually drive it back and forth to work.”
“Three, Owen. You have three. All of them probably nicer than anything I’ll ever own, and you want me to drive that one,” I say, pointing at the car again. “The shiny one that looks super expensive. I can’t do it. I’ll drive the rental.”