Layla huffed and tossed a t-shirt across the bed then delved further into her suitcase, which lacked anything date-worthy.
She froze, stomach flipping. Was this a date? It seemed like a date. Blah!
She threw her hands in the air and sat on the bed, squeezing her eyes shut and counting to twenty. She wasn’t used to feeling hot and bothered and needed to get a grip. She wasn’t a school girl getting ready for prom. She was a grown woman going to breakfast with a handsome man. A very handsome man.
Her eyes popped open as she grabbed a pair of dark jeans, a white v-neck shirt, and the necklace Travis and Phyllis gave her. At least she had pretty jewelry to wear with her bland outfit.
After getting dressed, she looked in the mirror. Yes, the clothes were plain, but the platinum chain and emerald mawsitsit contrasted nicely with the white shirt.
She didn’t own any makeup, so that was done, and she was leaving her hair down, so she ran her fingers through it and slipped a ponytail holder around her wrist. The waist-length spirals were hard to maintain, becoming a tangled mess more often than not, but she refused to cut them short. A weird quirk, she knew, but she’d been born with it, objecting to haircuts from the first attempt. According to her mom, she’d been a year old and cried harder than ever before when they snipped that first curl.
After looking in the mirror one more time, sighing hopelessly at the mundane outfit, Layla moved to the bed to clean her mess. As she shoved the last of the clothes in her suitcase, someone knocked on the door.
Her reaction was instantaneous and ridiculous—heart racing, palms moistening, cheeks burning. “Act your age,” she hissed, slipping on a gray, button-up sweater. Then she exhaled and walked to the door, boldly swinging it open.
For the tiniest moment, Quin looked worried, but a smile quickly stretched from one dimple to the other. “Good morning,” he greeted, eyes roaming from her head to her toes. “That necklace looks great on you.”
“It’s a pretty necklace,” she replied, touching the gem.
He reached up, moving her fingers from the stone to her clavicle. “The necklace is lovely because you’re wearing it. It’s not wearing you.”
Their fingertips quivered over her rapid pulse as heat flushed her entire body. “Thank you.”
He dropped his hand, clearing his throat as he flexed his fingers. “Are you hungry?”
Layla waited as long as she dared before answering, trying to strengthen everything—nerve, knees, voice. “Yes,” she replied, thrilled it came out clearly. “Let me get my bag.”
“Leave it,” he suggested. “Aunt Karena’s having a two-for-one special this weekend.”
“Is that right?” Layla smirked.
For so long Quin wondered what it would be like to kiss the mysterious Layla. As he watched her mouth, the urge to find out grew. “That’s right,” he returned. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
“Never mind the room going to waste in Portland,” she countered.
She was so stubborn. He liked it. “We could check you out of that hotel and book this room for the week.” He could be stubborn, too.
“Um . . .” she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “I’d prefer to start the day off with coffee.”
He grinned and reached around her, grabbing her backpack off an entryway table. “Of course you would. Leave your luggage,” he insisted, taking her hand. “If you want to go back to Portland later, it will still be here.” Without waiting for her approval, he closed the door and led her down the corridor.
The café was only a few blocks away, so they walked, hand in hand—her watching the window displays as he watched her.
“It embarrasses you that I’m holding your hand,” he concluded.
She met his stare for the first time since he’d taken it. “I’m not used to it,” she confessed. “It’s nice, though, just… a little weird.”
“Why is it weird?”
“Because we just met. Most guys don’t ever make this kind of gesture, let alone make it this early.”
“What kind of gesture do you think it is?”
Damn. She was on the spot and her own mouth put her there. What if what she thought it meant was way off base? “Well,” she weakly explained, “I see holding hands as a way to show you care about someone and want to keep them close.”
He smiled. “That’s an excellent way to put it.”
“Then you see why I find it weird.”
“No.”
She sighed. “Really?”
“Really,” he repeated. “It makes perfect sense.”
She watched him for a long moment then looked at the sidewalk. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Quin. Most guys dodge their feelings, embarrassed to have them, let alone express them.”
“I was raised differently.”
“Hmm…” she mumbled. “It’s refreshing.” And unnerving and embarrassing and it made her feel all tingly inside. She lifted his hand, staring at their entwined fingers. “So you want to keep me close?”
He grinned. “You haven’t noticed my attempts to keep you at my aunt’s inn?”
She stopped walking, bringing him to a halt as well. “You’re serious,” she decided, slowly scanning his casually humored expression.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.
Her face was hot again, so she looked down. “Why me, Quin? Why are you holding my hand?”
He reached out and took her chin, raising her gaze back to his. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Layla. I don’t know you very well, but so far you’re friendly, witty and wonderfully stubborn. Now you’re blessing me with a chance to discover more, a chance I consider myself lucky to have, so if you’re willing to let me keep you close by holding your hand, that’s what I’m going to do.”
Layla searched for signs of dishonesty, finding none, and her heart constricted then swelled. “Okay,” she whispered.
He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed, trying to find her lungs, but she was experiencing so many new and unusual sensations, her vital organs struggled to keep up. She wondered if she was finally going through that raging hormonal faze she managed to skip as a teenager.
“Excellent,” Quin approved, compelling her to walk. “So did you listen to Morrigan’s CD?”
“Yes,” Layla beamed, forgetting about her insecurities and worries. “It’s amazing. Do you really know that woman?”
“Very well. I’ll introduce you some time.”
“I wouldn’t know what to say,” Layla countered. “It would be like meeting a rock star. Why haven’t I heard of her?”
“She doesn’t play professionally,” Quin explained, leading her across the café deck, “just in her spare time.”
“That’s a shame,” Layla replied, catching a whiff of the world’s best coffee. “She’s incredibly talented.”
“I’ll tell her you said so,” he offered, holding the door open.
Apparently Quin was popular around the café, because the moment they entered, a male clerk waved them over. He was average in height, but brawny in build, and his light blonde hair was close-cropped, accentuating his bulky frame. He energetically drummed his hands on the bar, flashing a bright smile that pinched his cheeks and stretched into sparkling blue eyes.
When Quin and Layla approached, the clerk ceased his drum roll, but remained lively. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Quin returned. “This is Layla.”
The clerk stretched his arm across the counter. “Nice to meet you, Layla. Banning Gilmore, but you can call me Bann.”
As Layla accepted his hand, an odd tingle shot up her arm, but she hid her surprise well, not flexing her fingers until he’d released them. “Nice to meet you, too, Bann.”
“Do you know what you want?” Quin asked, keeping his eyes on Layla’s face as he leaned on the counter. “Besides coffee, of course.”
“Of course,” she replied, staring at his smirking lips. Then she tore her gaze away to scan the breakfast menu.
After taking their order, Banning disappeared into the kitchen, and Quin moved around the counter, helping himself to coffee while suggesting Layla pick a table. She chose the same corner she had the night before, sitting with her back to the wall, so it was like déjà vu when Quin sat across from her.
“You like this table,” he noted.
“It brought me luck,” she divulged, watching him add the perfect amount of cream and sugar to her coffee.
“I like that,” he confessed, sliding her cup over.
“What?” she asked.
“That you found it lucky to meet me.”
She smiled. “How do you know I wasn’t referring to the discounted room at the inn?”
“Now you’re breaking my heart,” he feigned, lifting a hand to his chest.
Layla laughed then sipped her sublime brew. “I have to admit, it wasn’t the room.”
“No?”
“No.” She raised her cup. “I really like coffee.”
“I almost believe that,” he laughed.
“You’re wondering.”
“About a lot of things,” he confirmed. Then Banning appeared with a tray.
“That was fast,” Layla noted, looking down at the sliced apple fanned out beside a perfect stack of pancakes. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Banning replied. “Give me a shout if you need anything else.”
“Okay,” Layla agreed, and Banning returned to the counter, offering coffee refills along the way.
“He’s nice,” Layla said, watching him go.
“He’s a good kid,” Quin agreed.
“How old is he?”
“Seventeen.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but it’s close enough to his birthday to round up.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Does he look older? He’d love to know that.”
“He acts older,” Layla explained. “All the seventeen-year-old guys I went to school with were more interested in booze and sex than anything else. Working the early shift on a Saturday was their idea of hell.”
Quin frowned. “A lot of people choose unwisely when first given the freedom to. You need experience to learn the true value of your priorities.”
“But then it’s too late,” she observed. “You’ve missed your chance to do it right, to spend your time wisely.”
“Until the next time,” he agreed, thoughtfully searching her face. “Is there something you missed?”
“As a teenager?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“No. I was right where I wanted to be.”
“And where was that?”
Layla’s fork lay idle as she watched his move around his plate. “Oklahoma,” she eventually answered.
“Oklahoma,” he repeated.
She nodded her confirmation, and he grinned. “Clever.”
Layla watched him eat, waiting for him to insist she elaborate on her clever answer, but he didn’t, so she went back to her pancakes.
When Quin’s plate was nearly empty, he motioned to hers. “I thought you were hungry.”
“I was.”
“You ate two pancakes and an apple.”
“That’s two pancakes more than I usually eat for breakfast.”
“So you run on coffee.”
“If only it were that easy.”
He laughed, took another bite then set his fork down. A few seconds later, Banning appeared, gathering the dirty dishes and balancing them in one large hand. “I’ll refill your coffee,” he offered, gathering their cups.
Once he walked away, Quin leaned forward. “Will you be blessing me with your company for a while longer?”
He seemed nervous, which was odd considering he was the most confident man Layla had ever met, and for good reason. He was handsome, polite and extremely charming. “I don’t have any plans,” she answered, fidgeting with a napkin holder, “so if you have one, I’m in.”
“I don’t have a plan,” he confessed, “but whatever I do will be more enjoyable with your company.”
“Then I guess we need a plan.”
“I guess we do. Anything in particular you’d like to see in Cannon Beach?”
“Not really. You’re the local. Fill me in on the secrets.”
“Secrets,” he mumbled, leaning back in his chair as he ran a hand over his jaw. “So you’re leaning away from tourist traps.”
“I’d like to take advantage of the inside knowledge while it’s available,” she confirmed. “I can follow the brochures anytime.”
“That’s wise,” he agreed, contemplating his options. “There’s a slice of unspoiled nature about twenty miles away. It’s not impressive enough for the tourists, but I like it. Would you like me to show you?”
More than anything, she thought. “Yes.”
Banning returned with their coffee, and Layla smiled as she added cream and sugar. “Thanks, Bann.”
“My pleasure. Maybe I’ll see you again soon.”
“You will if you keep serving coffee like this.”
“It’s been the same for thirty-three years. I doubt it’ll change anytime soon.”
“Then you’ll definitely see me again.”
“I look forward to it,” he replied, smiling brightly. Then he turned to Quin. “Anything else?”
“Nope,” Quin answered, offering Layla his hand. “Ready?”
“Sure,” she agreed, and he pulled her to her feet, giving Banning an absent wave as they left the café.