There was a whole part of her life that he knew nothing about, though he was growing more curious about her by the moment.
Once her plate was dished up, she settled back against the pillows and grabbed a fork. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Once he was done, James set down his empty plate and glanced over at her.
“Sorry,” he said, nodding to the clothes she was wearing. His T-shirt and shorts looked as if they were hanging off a skeleton. She was practically swimming in his clothes.
Layla glanced down. “It’s okay. They’re comfortable.”
He nodded, thankful that he’d decided to do his laundry before he left. His mom would be so proud. “They aren’t what you design,” he said, remembering the outfit he’d been forced to wear.
Layla’s smile emerged. It was soft and real, and it caused James’s heart to quicken. It lit up her entire face. “Yeah. Not really my style.”
He chuckled as he grabbed a white takeout box and dumped some sweet and sour chicken on his plate. “Your style is very…interesting.”
Layla glanced up at him through her thick black eyelashes. He wasn’t sure why she’d been so jealous of his eyelashes earlier. Hers were beautiful and framed her dark brown eyes perfectly.
He swallowed as he forced himself to drop his gaze and focus on his food. He shouldn’t be thinking about Layla as anyone but the woman he needed to protect. She was Juan’s ex, and that was enough for him to know that he needed to stay away.
Layla took a few bites. “That’s not what I really love to design. That was just for a magazine shoot. They like more edgy things.”
James furrowed his brow. “Then what do you like to design?”
Layla glanced up at him, studying him. Heat pricked the back of his neck from the intensity of her stare. He swallowed, wondering what she was thinking. It was as if she could see through to his soul, and that scared him.
Layla set her plate down next to her and drew her knees up to her chest. She hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees. “Like in a perfect world?”
James nodded. “In a perfect world.”
She reached out and ran her hand across the comforter of the bed. “I’d love to design wedding dresses. They’re my first love.”
He glanced over at her. Her features had softened, and she had a far-off look in her eyes. “They make you happy?” His voice came out gruffer than he intended. But there was something about people who knew exactly what they wanted to do. She didn’t seem lost like he was. She had a purpose. He just wished he had the same.
“But it doesn’t pay the bills. I was picked up as a clothing designer. It’s hard to try to branch out. Especially when there are other designers already dominating that space.”
He set his plate down and glanced over at her. “Can I see some of your designs?”
Layla’s cheeks reddened as she glanced over at him. “I’m not sure…”
He shrugged. “Well, I’m not a connoisseur of wedding dresses, but I’m sure I could spot a good one when I see it.” He waved at her. “Come on, let me see.”
She held his gaze for a moment before she sighed. “Okay,” she said, her voice rising a few octaves.
She climbed off the bed and made her way over to her purse. A few seconds later, she returned with her phone in hand. “Now, these are small since I don’t have my sketchbook with me,” she said as she tapped on the screen. “But this is my favorite.” A few seconds later, she held out her phone, a few inches from James’s face.
He backed up a bit and took the phone. Layla remained next to him as if she too were staring at it. He studied the woman she’d drawn. The dress was short-sleeved, fitted at the chest, and flowed down in wispy waves. He didn’t know much about dresses, but the feeling he got from the drawing surprised him.
“Wow,” he said, as he glanced up to see her watching him. She was chewing on her bottom lip, and there was a look of uncertainty in her gaze.
“Really?” she asked. Her voice came out breathy and sent waves of warmth across his skin.
Or perhaps it was the fact that she was standing inches from him. The length of her body not quite touching his, but so close that he could feel her warmth.
Her dark hair had dried in soft ringlets around her face. When she was standing this close, he could see a dash of freckles across her nose. She was breathtaking.
A worried feeling grew in his stomach, causing him to back away. He forced a relaxed smile and handed the phone back. “You’re really talented,” he said.
Layla took the phone but kept her gaze on the sketch as she slipped back onto the bed. He could tell she was lost in thought as she stared at the screen with her eyebrows drawn together, creating a furrow between them.
Needing a break, James cleared his throat and stood. He gathered the empty boxes into the brown paper bag and headed over to the garbage. As he passed by the shower, he glanced into the glass enclosure and the desire to stand under the warm water took over.
“I can wait outside,” Layla said, her voice soft. He glanced over at her to see a soft hue of pink across her cheeks.
He shook his head. “No,” he said a bit too loud. Then he shook his head. “It’s not safe for you to be outside. Besides, I’ll just take one when we get to Honey Grove tomorrow.”
She furrowed her brow. “I’ll close my eyes, then. Really, it’s not a big deal.”
He flicked his gaze back to the shower. “Promise not to look?”
Her skin reddened as she shook her head. “Of course.”
He chuckled. “A shower would be amazing.”
“I’ll just go to sleep. I’m exhausted.” And true to her word, her face fell slack as she yawned. She looked exhausted.
Not wanting to make her feel bad, James nodded. “Thanks.”
Layla stood and started clearing off the bed and throwing her garbage away. When she returned to the bed, she pulled back the covers and slipped inside.
James studied her, and when he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to turn around, he slipped off his shirt. Just as he unbuttoned his pants, Layla sat up and turned. “Wait,” she exclaimed.
Panicked, he hunched over. Which was stupid. The only she could see was his upper body. When he raised his gaze up to meet hers, he saw her eyes roam his chest. He didn’t have to look down to know what she was staring at. The large scar across his chest. The one that burned with the memory of Clarisa. The woman who haunted his dreams to this day.
“I’m sorry—” she stuttered as she whipped her hand up to her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d gotten started yet.”
He chuckled as he straightened. “It’s okay. You can look. I was planning on showering in my boxers anyway.”
She hesitated and then slowly began to lower her hand. She didn’t look convinced. And when she opened her eyes again, her gaze dropped to his chest. He could see her whole body flush when she brought her gaze up to meet his.
“It’s just my chest,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood. Hopefully if she didn’t pick up on the anguish that was associated with his scar, she wouldn’t ask him about it. Then he wouldn’t have to relive his past.
She nodded. “I was just lying here, thinking about how I shouldn’t have to pee. But that only got me thinking about needing to pee.” She pulled the covers back and stood. Then she made her way over to the small toilet room in the back. The only room with a door on it.
A few minutes later, she came back out, washed her hands, and slipped back under the covers.
James eyed her, watching her shoulders rise and fall. “Can I undress now?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out muffled. He wondered if it was because she was covering her face with the blanket.
“Do you need me to give you a play by play?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “I mean, no. I’m okay. I’m not going to look up.”
James chuckled. “I’ll just give you a heads up.”
“Okay.”
After the water was warmed, James
slipped out of his pants—keeping his boxers on—and pulled open the shower door. The warm water beat against him as he got clean. It felt great, standing there, but he didn’t want Layla to feel more uncomfortable then he was sure she already was.
Once he was dried and dressed, he made his way over to the bed. “I’m decent now,” he said. He leaned in only to find that her eyes were closed and her breathing had grown heavy.
He was relieved that she was asleep instead of freaking out over the fact that a stranger was showering in her room. James sighed. Growing tired, he grabbed some leftover pillows and blankets and made a bed on the floor.
After punching the pillow a few times, he lay on his back with one arm tucked under his head. A feeling of dread rushed through him. This was the part he hated. Sleep had evaded him for so long after everything with Clarisa.
The sense of dread that filled him every time he closed his eyes was almost crippling. It was the past that he was running from. The past that he couldn’t seem to shake.
Despite his worries, James’s eyes finally closed, and his body relaxed. Now, if he could only stay asleep, he might be able to survive the night.
* * *
She was in danger. Somewhere, beyond his reach, she was in pain. He needed to get to her.
His arms felt heavy as he reached out to attack the man that held him down. He needed to push him away. He needed to save her.
Screams filled his ears, causing his heart to race. This man needed to die. If he didn’t, she would die.
His hands found their way to his assailant’s neck. He squeezed his hands tighter and tighter.
He’d save her. It didn’t matter what he had to do, he’d save her.
“James! James!”
He shook his head. If only she knew how much he was fighting to save her, she’d realize that, with him, she was safe.
“I’m coming,” he yelled, his speech sounding slow and slurred.
“James, it’s me. It’s Layla.”
Her voice sounded so near, so clear.
“James, wake up!”
Two hand grabbed at his own. The darkness in his eyes gave way to pale light around him.
As his sight cleared, so did Layla’s panicked expression. Her soft skin was glowing in the light that spilled from the slit in the curtains. As his gaze trailed down her face, he realized that his hands were wrapped around a pillow.
“I’m here, it’s okay,” she said.
Panic rushed through him as he pulled his hands away and collapsed on the floor next to the bed. He cradled his head in his hands as the realization of what he could have done raced through him. Tonight, it was a pillow, but how close had it been to being something else?
Layla’s soft whispers filled the air as he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he was somewhere else. He should have known better then try to sleep in the same room as her.
It was the reason he feared sleep. The nightmare that consumed his mind and body always ended the same.
He felt the bed shift behind him, and he could only assume Layla was sitting up. Her leg brushed his arm as she slipped to the floor next to him. She sat there, her shoulder touching his. Her leg barely touching his own. He could feel her as they sat there in silence.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
Her words only made the ache in his chest worse. This wasn’t why she was here. She’d had no idea what she was getting into when she agreed to go with him. He should have told her about the nightmares. About what happened when they got bad.
But he hadn’t. Maybe he thought he’d be able to beat them. Forget his past and move forward. But he couldn’t. They were never going away.
And now she was saying that this situation was okay, when it definitely wasn’t. That was wrong.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he covered his face with his hands and tipped his head forward to rest his elbow on his knee. He heard her sigh and waited for her to respond.
“Does it happen a lot?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Even though he hated talking about all of this, he knew he should. She deserved to hear the truth. Especially since she’d been close to being on the receiving end of it.
“Yes,” he whispered. He felt so weak. So out of control. And he hated that feeling.
Suddenly, a warm hand engulfed his own. It shocked him for a moment, rendering him speechless. Why was she doing this? He could have seriously hurt her. She should be running, not sitting there supporting him.
“I understand. My brother…” Her voice drifted off. When she didn’t continue, he pulled his head up to glance over at her. His gaze drifted over their clasped hands. Warmth was racing up his arm and exploding in his chest.
“My brother had issues when he got out,” she said, her voice so quiet that James had to lean in to hear her.
“He did?”
She nodded.
A sense of relief flooded his body. He was tired of having to tell people about his problem. He was tired of answering questions about it. For the first time, someone actually understood what he was going through.
“How did he beat it?”
She glanced up at him with tears brimming. She held his gaze for a moment before she shook her head. “He didn’t. It consumed him. He passed away a few years ago.”
James paused, a ringing sound in his ears. “I’m so sorry,” he said. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Sure, there’d been days when he wanted things to end. When the pain was almost too much to bear. But he could never do that to his family—to his mom.
She nodded and blinked, a tear escaping and rolling down her cheek. Out of instinct, he reached up and brushed his fingertips against her skin, catching the tear.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, raising her gaze up to meet his.
He studied her and then shook his head. He couldn’t talk about it. It just breathed life into the pain that was crushing his chest. Plus, he didn’t want to burden her with his problems. She was soft and sweet. What had happened to him had hardened him in ways he couldn’t describe.
And even though he’d just met this woman, he didn’t want her to see his demons. He worried what she might think of him if the truth that he was trying so hard to hide was revealed. He couldn’t handle seeing the same disappointed look in her eyes that he’d seen in so many since the accident. Since Clarisa’s death.
“I can’t,” he said as he dropped her gaze to study the floor. He tipped his head forward and let it hang there, the pain of his past weighing down on him.
Suddenly, a soft weight pulled his shoulder down and caused him to look over. Layla had laid her head there. Her arm was pressed against his and their hands were still clasped.
A feeling of peace surrounded him as he leaned his head down and rested it against hers. He didn’t want this to end. He felt so safe with her next to him.
It was strange. Perhaps it was the fact that she had known someone struggling with the same thing he was. That she wasn’t scared when it reared its ugly head. Whatever the reason, he was grateful she was here. And he didn’t want her to go.
Chapter Six
The bright morning sun shone through the slit in the curtains and right onto Layla’s face. She groaned as she shifted her body, trying to adjust herself so that the sun was no longer in her eyes. Her neck was tight and her butt numb. She sat up and glanced over to see James sitting with his head back and his eyes closed.
Realization hit her as she pulled back. She’d fallen asleep on James. They’d moved to lean against the headboard and fill the silence with small talk. Somehow, she’d drifted off.
Confusion filled her mind as she ran her gaze over his face. It had been such a strange evening. First, to be woken up by James strangling a pillow right next to her, to watching him collapse, allowing her to see the broken man hiding behind his mask.
She’s seen so much of Connor in his gaze. She’d seen so much of her broken brother in James’s frustration, she couldn’t help but reac
h out to him. She’d never gotten to do that for Connor while he was still alive. A regret that she’d been living with for a long time. So, even though she knew she should have backed away from James, she couldn’t.
He stirred next to her and she brought up her gaze to study him. He’d pulled his head up and peered down at her. His eyes widened and he jumped back as if he’d been burned.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. He stood up, pushing his hands through his hair. “I didn’t mean too…I mean, I didn’t…” His skin paled as he glanced down at her neck.
Not wanting to see him beat himself up over something that hadn’t happened, she shook her head. “Nothing happened. We just feel asleep.” She held up her hands, hoping he’d understand.
He looked at her, his gaze softening as he processed her words. Then he sighed, glancing around. “I’m not…” His shoulder slumped as his voice trailed off.
Tension began building in the room, and Layla wasn’t sure she could handle whatever he was trying so hard not to say. Needing to change the subject, she shook her head as she stood.
“It’s okay. We don’t need to talk about it.” She stood next to him, not sure what she was going to do. She peered up at him and gave him a smile.
He let out his breath as he dropped his gaze to the ground.
Layla sat down on the bed and pretended to busy herself with straightening her clothes—or James’s clothes. She really hoped they’d be able to move past what had happened last night.
It felt like an eternity before James spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning in closer so she could hear the words he was ashamed to have to say.
The tone of his voice sent shivers across her body. All she could do was look up at him and nod. She didn’t blame him. If anything, it had brought her closer to him.
Was it strange that she was feeling this strong of a connection to a man she’d only met yesterday? Somehow, she’d already experienced more intimate moments with him than she’d ever experienced with Juan.
Her Protector: A Braxton Brothers Romance Page 5