If you only knew what you were asking for.
"First date's a little heavy for those sorts of promises, isn't it?" she teased, trying to turn the conversation the best she could.
He sat back, his intensity decreasing to a more comfortable level. Nate Montgomery was a good old boy, a sexy cowboy you could have fun with—she knew that much. But he was also the type of man you could get lost in, and that…that was dangerous.
A sexy little smirk deepened the smile lines around his mouth. "This is hardly our…"
"First date. It is." She interrupted him, nodding. The feel of his hands on her skin was burned into her memory, but that didn't mean they'd ever been on a first date.
He shrugged, conceding. "So it is."
"So lay off on the deep stuff, Montgomery."
"All right, all right. I'll save it for date number two."
She laughed. "What makes you think there's going to be a date number two?"
"Oh I just have a feeling," he teased with a wink. He wasn't wrong.
—SIXTEEN—
Later, on the drive home, their bellies full and the cab lit by the green glow of the old radio in the truck, Layla felt Nate's hand creep across the seat toward her fingers. He didn't hold her hand, per se, but looped their pinkies together. It was an innocent gesture that made her giddy, like she imagined having a middle school boyfriend would have felt like.
Dinner at Yvette's wasn't as bad as she'd thought it might be. She didn't know what she'd expected—jerked up eyebrows of people incredulous that she was out in public with Nate Montgomery, small-town rodeo hero? She should have known better. People in town were friendly enough. Working with the public, she'd started to get a reputation that exceeded what people thought of her family. And nobody had ever truly aired their feelings about her parents and their shady income practices to her face. But she knew people talked. And she knew people would talk about this.
"I don't wanna be 'that person', but I'm real proud you've got your own place, Layla. You seem to be doing well for yourself."
Layla chuckled, shaking her head.
"If you count working nonstop and a car that's begging to die on me as doing well, I guess that's what it is."
"Your parents must be proud, too. How are they doing anyway?"
"You didn't ask me out so you could ask about my parents, Nate Montgomery." She was still a little itchy when it came to talking about her folks. They'd never done her any favors. As far as she was concerned, Nan and Kerri were her family now, and that was all she needed. But telling Nate about the discord in the Sullivan family was just a segue into talking about Mason and she figured the less she shared, the less likely he was to ask the right questions to get the answer she didn't want to give.
He chuckled. "Yeah, you're right."
"How about you? How long you planning on sticking around?"
The way he shifted, swallowing, without turning his eyes to her told her she'd hit her mark when it came to making him feel just as itchy as she had when he'd cornered her about having a kid.
"A while, probably."
"A while?"
"The foreseeable future."
"Right. So…" She pressed her lips together, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts to words. It could have been exhaustion or her new role in life, but she'd become a lot more forthright in the last year, more aware of her truths, and more willing to speak them. "Remember how I said I'm not the same girl as eighteen months ago?"
He glanced at her and suddenly, she felt uncomfortable bringing it up. What would it hurt to have a little fling? The problem was little flings turned into bigger things in such a small town; drama, or trouble, or babies. And she didn't have the time or energy to beat around the bush anymore. Every minute of her free time was measured, and precious. And giving any of it to him meant taking it away from Mason, and her son was the one who would still be around in twenty years, and he'd remember.
"Yeah."
"I had a really good time tonight…but I don't know if I gave you the wrong idea by accepting this date…" She blew out a long breath. Might as well nip it in the bud. "I'm not really interested in the type of thing we had going on last time."
Nate's brow furrowed and he glanced at her again, then flicked on his blinker and pulled the truck over, shoving the shifter into park.
"Neither am I."
She'd wanted him to say oh, okay, and drive her home and drop her off. To be cordial to her when he saw her at the bar or the doctor's office, friendly, even. Instead, he turned his gaze on her, too intense, and reached between them, undoing that silly seatbelt buckle that had given her so much trouble this week. The moment stilled, and her mouth went dry as she watched him lift his hand and touch the back of her neck. Then the moment quickened again, catching up with itself all of a sudden and she was being tugged across the bench seat and Nate's lips were crashing into hers like she was water and he was a man who had been in the desert for too long.
Layla didn't remember making the decision to slide across the bench seat and press her body into his, but there she was, with her fingers curled around his bicep. His tongue slid into her mouth and she let out an involuntary, soft noise as she let him in. His free hand glided over her shoulder, back up to her neck, slid down her arm, and then found her waist, his palm covering territory as if he was remembering her body the same way she had remembered his earlier. She didn't even have the presence of mind to think to suck in her stomach.
This sure as hell didn't feel like he didn't want the same type of thing they'd had before. And right now, she wasn't sure she cared.
The last time he'd been in town, whiskey had fueled the initial encounter. The next night, she'd been stone sober and a little self-conscious, but completely perplexed by the way their bodies fit together so perfectly, and encouraged by Nate's enthusiasm. Every touch was a combination of worship and awe and it wasn't like anything she'd experienced before or after. Until now.
When he left town, she hadn't deluded herself into thinking he'd come back for her. Oh, he'd be back—his entire family was here—but she wasn't the kind of girl men came back for, and she was okay with that.
Now, her body betrayed her brain, pressing against him, her hips lifting when his fingers worked in under her shirt. Her skin remembered his touch all too well. His mouth traced over her jaw, into the crook of her neck, and he let out a heated breath, his fingers curling into her flesh as he drew her impossibly closer.
*
What she'd said didn't matter; he'd been wondering all night what she might taste like—promised himself just a sample—and now he couldn't stop. It had been that way since he'd seen her at Danny's, working behind the bar. Whether it was thinking about her, or tasting her, or fantasizing about what life in Three Rivers might be like with Layla at his side, he had no self-control. It wasn't that he had pined for her while he was in Denver, either. She crossed his mind from time to time—occasionally when he'd just had a lackluster physical encounter, he'd think of the way their bodies fit together like they were made for one another; her soft, lush curves, and the way she gave and gave. But once he came back to Three Rivers and saw her again, it had been almost non-stop. So bad he was convinced maybe Nan didn't even need an informant.
He pulled away for just a second, brushing her hair off her forehead and letting his fingers wander back to the back of her neck. The wanting in her eyes made his stomach churn. I feel it too, babygirl. Funny how there'd been no shortage of women in Denver—before the accident, anyways—but nobody permanent, nobody who made him feel the way she was making him feel right now, with just a couple of sweet kisses in the front seat of his pickup. It took every bit of his willpower and then some not to take her mouth again. He pressed his forehead against hers, holding them there for a moment, nothing but their heavy breaths filling the space between them. It might not be easy, but he'd prove she was more than just a body—no matter how badly he wanted that body—and he'd be around for more than a couple nights. B
ecause he wanted to be, not because he had no choice.
"I gotta get you home."
Her throat bobbed when she swallowed—God, even that was sexy—and she gave a tiny nod, letting out a soft, short breath through her nose. He'd pulled her into the girlfriend seat, and when he shifted the truck into gear, he slid his arm over her shoulder to keep her there, content with her warm body curled against his side.
Nate was almost disappointed when his headlights swept over the front porch of her house; over the now empty spot where he'd seen that baby seat before. It struck him funny she hadn't opened up when she'd confirmed she had a child, but then again, he hadn't exactly spilled everything when she'd asked how long he would be in town. He had all the time in the world.
Putting the truck in park, he helped her slide across the seat and out of the pickup.
She took a couple steps toward the house, and cocked her head back at him when he caught stride beside her.
"What are you doing?"
"Walking you to your door. What else?" He couldn't resist a little chuckle.
"Okay," she said quietly, and it occurred to him maybe nobody had ever taken her on a proper date, talked to her daddy while he waited for her to be ready, walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight. He would have liked to think it had more to do with the fact that her father was an ornery old sonofabitch nobody could tolerate, and her brother was well on the way to being the same, but he knew it was because she'd been painted with the very same brush of distaste, even though she'd never been anything but sweet and quiet. If he thought about it, he'd never seen her with anyone in high school, and he remembered someone saying the guy from two towns over who had accompanied her to prom was a friend of a friend.
Well, that just wouldn't do.
Walking side by side toward her house, the backs of their hands brushed, electricity crackling through the off-and-on space between them. Two strides later, he wrapped her slender fingers in his own. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped, turned toward him and smiled, their joined hands hanging in the space between them. She bit her lower lip for a second before a smile spread over her pretty features, right up to her eyes.
"Thank you for a wonderful night, Nate."
"You weren't the only one who enjoyed it." It was the first time in months…no, almost a year, that the reminder of his failure wasn't pressing at the back of his mind, dictating his actions. Her company had put that all out of his mind. For tonight, he was just a man spending time with a beautiful woman he was attracted to.
She looked up at him; she was a tall woman, Amazonian, but he still had a few inches on her, and her lips parted just so slightly. Like an open invitation. One he wanted to take, badly. Instead, he reached out to cup her jaw, his thumb rubbing lightly over the rise of her cheekbone, taking in those sweet, trusting eyes, and the little smatter of freckles on the bridge of her nose she'd never grown out of.
Her eyes were locked on his as he got closer, sliding his fingers around the back of her neck as he brought his lips to her ear, missing her mouth entirely.
"Goodnight, Layla."
A breathy sigh came out of her when he pulled back and dropped his hand. Clearly confused, her smile was a little weak.
"I'll see you in the morning."
She didn't say anything as he turned and headed back to his truck. She might have invited him in this time. And he wouldn't have been able to say no.
—SEVENTEEN—
Layla suspected Kerri had been watching out the window, because the girl was halfway across the kitchen with her back to the door, her arms crossed defensively around her midsection when Layla let herself into the house. Almost immediately, the younger girl flew across the floor to the door, peeking beyond Layla to watch Nate's headlights swing as he turned and pulled out of her driveway.
"So?" Anxious excitement made her voice high and loud.
"Shh, don't wake up my baby," Layla chided, closing the door behind her and making a slow show of crossing the floor and putting her purse on the end of the kitchen island.
Kerri rolled her eyes, positioning herself on the other side of the counter top from her employer. "You and I both know we could make enough noise to wake the dead and Mason would still be sleeping."
"That is true," she said, rooting in her bag for her phone.
"So?!" Kerri repeated.
"So what? Don't you have to go home or something?"
"I'm not leaving until you tell me about this date." The girl crossed her arms over her chest defiantly.
"Okay," Layla started. "We went to Yvette's. We ate hamburgers. I came home."
Kerri's eyes went wide with exasperation.
"And that's it? Did you talk about Mason? Did he kiss you?"
Pressing her lips together, Layla considered what she could tell Kerri, knowing how close the Baylor and Montgomery families were. She trusted Kerri with her son, but maybe not her secrets. Kerri had never probed into who Mason's father was, and for all the girl knew, Mason could have been her cousin if things had gone differently all those years ago with Noah Baylor.
"Sort of. And yes."
"You sort of kissed or sort of talked about Mason?"
"Well, he figured out I had a kid."
Nodding vigorously, Kerri uncrossed her arms and leaned forward with her palms on the counter top. "And he was a decent human being, wasn't he?"
She couldn't help the smile that crawled across her lips, thinking of how absolutely, unequivocally chill Nate had been upon confirming she had a kid. Maybe she could tell him. Maybe he would handle it in stride, the same way. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon, she could tell him. This hope was risky.
"Of course he was," Kerri answered herself. "He's Nate Montgomery. Now, about that kissing."
"Go home, Ker. You have to be back here in about ten hours."
Kerri gathered up her laptop bag and her purse, huffing exaggeratedly as she did. "I know he didn't kiss you."
"As a matter of fact, he did," Layla replied, moving toward the door and holding it open for her. "Just not in front of the steps where you were watching."
The guilty smile Kerri flashed when she paused in the doorway confirmed Layla's suspicions. "Now go home."
She watched out the window, as she always did, until Kerri's tail lights were out of sight, and then let out a long breath.
As she prepared for bed, Layla went back over the details of the night, from the gentle way he'd hooked his pinky in hers, to his hot hands on her skin. And the rest of the drive home, he'd made sure she sat in the 'girlfriend seat', the middle of the bench seat in a pickup—something she'd heard girls talk about in high school but had never experienced. But then he'd stopped short of kissing her goodnight. Had he changed his mind somewhere between wrapping his arm around her shoulders and getting out of the truck? No, the quiet, deliberate way he'd come so close, his hot breath tickling her earlobe and the rough scrape of his stubble against her jaw said otherwise.
She snuck into Mason's room and put her hand on his back gently to feel the rise and fall of his tiny, shallow breaths. The butterflies in her stomach quieted. This. This was important. Nate was being dangerously decent, though. Enough to give her silly notions about families and happily ever afters. Yes, this hope was risky.
—EIGHTEEN—
Nate shifted his truck into park in front of Layla's house. She was already trying to shimmy out of the seatbelt and the truck, ready to bolt for the door like she often did; he wouldn't be invited in tonight. Little did she know he'd already made up his mind he'd be sharing the pan of lasagna on the floorboard Nan had sent. He unbuckled and grabbed the food she'd left behind, and saw the toy that had tipped him off to the baby in the first place was currently occupied by a round-cheeked, light-haired little boy. Nate's stomach did something funny. Layla as a mother in theory was different from real life. Not bad, just different. He climbed out of the truck and followed Layla, catching up in a few easy strides.
Kerri had been sitting on the benc
h next to the child, and she put her laptop aside and stood up, crossing an arm over her midsection as they approached. Her questioning gaze turned to Layla, who gave her a nod Nate only caught out of the corner of his eye.
"Hey Kerri."
She flashed him a big grin, erasing the uncertainty she'd showed. "Hey Nate."
The girl had only been a member of the Baylor clan for a few years, but she could have easily been blood, which made her practically his own kin. He hadn't been around much, but she'd made a couple trips to Denver with Emma and Noah to watch the rodeo, so they'd cemented a pretty good bond. She was like the kid sister he'd never had.
He finally turned his gaze to the child, getting a closer look. He was a cute little guy, with blond hair, almond-colored eyes, and the roundest, chubbiest cheeks he'd ever seen. He lifted his arms for Layla in the universal signal for 'up'. Nate had never considered a family—hell, he could barely remember his own father, so how was he supposed to be that for someone else? But he wanted Layla, and this surprisingly happy baby wasn't going to put a damper on that.
"So who's this?" he asked.
Layla set her purse on the bench Kerri had been occupying as the girl gathered up her laptop and books, then bent and swooped the boy out of his seat, up onto her hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. She looked right with a baby on her hip. And not in a way that seemed to be synonymous with her family. It was like the last time he'd been in town she'd been missing something, and now all the right pieces had fallen into all the right places.
"This," she said with a sigh that sounded like sheer happiness, then pressed a kiss to the boy's chubby cheek. "Is Mason."
"Hey Mason," Nate said, balancing the casserole dish in one arm as he reached out to touch the boy's hand. His heart warmed when he was rewarded with a toothy grin. So far, so good.
Kerri emerged from the house with a purse and laptop bag slung over her shoulder, stepping between them to press her own kiss to the baby's cheek. "See you tomorrow, buddy. Bye Layla. Nate."
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