“HEY, YOU ABOUT ready to head into town and raise some hell?” Finn asks from the doorway. “There’s a little bar downtown or a bigger one a few miles the other way. Your call.”
Pulling my gaze from the window, I look at my friend. “Small town girls are more fun. Let’s start there and work our way through.”
Finn laughs and disappears around the corner. “Give me twenty. Just going to jump in the shower.”
Swiping the cross necklace my grandmother gave me when I graduated high school, I put it on. It rested in a shoe box up until a couple of years ago when I found it looking for something else. It’s made up of these little wooden beads with red shiny ones sprinkled in, and more days than not, it hangs around my neck.
It’s an odd choice for me. My only adornments typically include a gold watch—the first expensive thing I purchased after I signed my contract, the smirk I got from my dad that both gets me in and out of trouble, and a tattoo that spells my last name running down my right forearm. Jewelry really isn’t my thing, yet this little trinket has somehow become some sort of security blanket. I just feel better, more grounded, more me, when I have it on.
Twisting the beads between my fingers, the house is quiet as I head down the hallway towards the kitchen for a glass of lemonade. Wooden beams loom overhead, the staircase flooded with the final rays of sun filtering through the stained glass window. I hit the landing and turn the corner and stop just short of my target.
Layla stands at the kitchen counter in a pair of grey cotton shorts and a white tank top. I haven’t seen her since the little meet-and-greet in the front yard a couple of hours ago. She and her friend disappeared to the lake while Finn corralled me back to the house for a game of pool and away from any shot at seeing his sister.
She tucks a piece of hair that’s fallen from her ponytail behind her ear as she examines a slew of things that appear to have spilled from a bag sitting askew on the black marble worktop. I can’t take my eyes off her. It was hard enough to act normal earlier today with Finn standing by my side, but now he’s not here.
I stand in the doorway like a fucking stalker and gawk at this woman who’s made me feel like a damn bloodhound since she stepped out of the car.
She’s positively gorgeous in the most unassuming way and has an energy that just makes me want to be near her. I find myself wanting to hear her voice, searching for her laugh, looking to see where she is . . . and it’s so annoying.
Her brows tug together, a cascade of lines forming across her creamy skin. My fingers itch to run along the ridges, smoothing them out, feeling the softness of her skin beneath mine.
Instead, they go to my cock and attempt, in vain, to smooth it out. The movement catches her attention and she shoots upright.
“Branch!” she exclaims, a hand going to the base of her throat. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“How do you think I got the Most Valuable Player title last year?” I wink. “I’m quick.”
A smile plays coyly on her lips. “Noted.”
Our gazes lock together somewhere over the marble island separating us as her innuendo becomes apparent. It’s all I can do not to think about her body beneath mine, my palms memorizing the curve of her hip, the bow of the small of her back.
“I’m also very good with my hands,” I add.
“So I see.” She tries to hide her grin as she brushes her line of sight down my body and to my hand resting on my now throbbing cock, then back to my face.
A smile tugs at my lips as she laughs, a soft, unpretentious giggle. “That’s not helping anything, Sunshine.”
I stride across the kitchen, looking around as discreetly as I can and am relieved that I don’t see Poppy. A little one-on-one with this girl is the perfect way to kick start a weekend to remember.
Taking a seat across the island from Layla, every effort is made not to pant at the sight of her ample tits filling out her skintight shirt.
“Sunshine?” she asks, leaning against the counter.
“Your hair,” I say, working on a whim. “It reminds me of the sun.”
“My hair is a dirty dishwater blonde. Not so sunny.”
“But there are blonder streaks,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat. “Anyway, what are you doing? You have a little bit of everything here.”
Sorting through the various items, I hope my attempt at distraction works. “Sunglasses, lip stuff, medicine, a tampon,” I say, holding up the slender package.
She rips it out of my hands. “Give me that.”
“Words every man wants to hear,” I crack, watching the apples of her cheeks turn a couple of shades red. “I’ve had two interactions with you so far and you’ve been feisty in both. I’m guessing this is a thing with you.”
“Apparently.”
“I like it.”
She flips her gaze back to me. This time it’s softer, a bit of hesitation in her golden eyes. “It’s gotten me in trouble a time or two in my life.”
“Trouble’s not a bad thing, you know.”
“Said from the man who won Best Baller Bad Boy from Exposé Magazine a couple of months ago,” she laughs.
“Ah, so you do know who I am,” I tease. “I was afraid there for a minute.”
“I bet you were terrified.” She lifts a wallet off the counter and plucks up a small, circular tin. “Found it!”
“What is it?”
“It’s lip balm, but not just any lip balm,” she says, opening the lid. “It’s the best honey-based balm in the universe and I thought I’d lost it.”
She slides a finger along the top of the container, and then, like a vixen I didn’t quite have her pegged to be, rolls it along her bottom lip.
“That’s not helping either,” I groan, my hand going to my lap. “I tell you what—your brother has you all wrong.”
Smacking her lips together, the sound echoing around the room, she tosses the tin down again. “How’s that?”
“What? Your lips? They’re fucking amazing.”
“No,” she laughs. “How does my brother have me all wrong?”
“He talks about you like you’re this harmless, helpless little thing. I’d venture to say you’re neither.”
“I’d venture to say you’re right.”
I sift through the mess in front of me again, wondering what else there is to know about Ms. Layla James Miller. Spotting a business card propped against a hairbrush, I pick it up.
“Give me that,” she says, reaching for it.
There’s a level of panic in her voice that only makes me more curious. Leaning back in the seat, I bring the off-white card to my face. “Logan Curie, Sex Therapist.”
I almost drop the damn card.
“Give me that, Branch.”
I don’t. I look at it again. The words have not changed.
There’s a streak of alarm hidden just below the surface of her lit-up eyes and high cheekbones that prickles something in my chest. There are a million questions on the tip of my tongue and a million-plus-one offers I’m willing to make to cure whatever ails may have her seeing a sex therapist. But there’s something in the horror she’s trying to hide that keeps me from it.
I hand her the card.
“Go ahead,” she says, refusing to look at me as she shuffles the discarded items back into an oversized yellow bag. “Ask.”
“I have nothing to ask.”
“Yes, you do,” she snorts. “Just do it so we can move on.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I say, grabbing a couple of almonds out of a dish in front of me and popping them into my mouth.
A hefty sigh passes those lips I want to lick as she hangs her head. “We’re going to be here all weekend. I don’t want to look at you and see the questions in your eyes every time, okay? Just ask me and let’s get this over with.”
Contemplating if she’d actually answer as to why she has a sex therapist’s card in her purse and if I really want to put her on the spot, I toss another almond into my mouth and grin. “Fine. You’re right. Layla, do you need help getting off?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I watch her head snap up. Her eyes widen as her mouth hangs open.
“Fuck you,” she says on a laugh.
“Yes, please.” Pausing to give her a moment to recoup, I lean back in my chair. “I’m kidding. Wait. No, I’m not. I’d totally bend you over this counter in a half a second if I thought that’s what you wanted and Finn wouldn’t walk in and castrate me. But, being that I’m only ninety-eight percent sure that’s what you want and a solid hundred-percent sure Finn would remove my balls, I am only playing.”
“Ninety-eight, huh?”
“Fine. Ninety-nine,” I grin.
“You’re all the same,” she scoffs, placing both hands on the counter. “You think I’m a guaranteed thing because people wear your name on the back of their jerseys.”
“Ah, come on, Layla. You know you want me,” I tease. “It’s okay to admit it.”
“You flirted. I smiled. That’s hardly asking you to put your cock in me.”
Those words shoot fire through my veins, a charge that lands between my legs. If it fazes her, she doesn’t let on. She stands all sweet and innocent, taking in my reaction.
My equilibrium is thrown off, my head spinning a little faster than I care to admit—much faster than I care for her to know.
“You think that was flirting? You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“So that wasn’t flirting? What was it then?”
“I was just trying to do you a favor,” I say with a shrug.
She laughs. “Oh, you were, were you?”
“You were what?” Finn’s voice rings from the doorway, announcing his arrival.
My shoulders slump, irritation scratching my nerves as I sense him coming up next to me. “I was offering to help your sister with a few things this weekend.”
“You’re not helping her with shit, you jack hole.”
“I’m an expert in the field she needs help with,” I goad, looking at Layla out of the corner of my eye. “Just trying to be a nice guy.”
“There’s nothing nice about you,” Finn jokes. “Now come on. There are plenty of women down at Crave who would love for you to show them your expertise tonight.”
Standing up, I keep one eye on Layla. Her brother’s comments have washed away some of the playfulness from her features and I’d give my left nut to get it back somehow. Opening my mouth, I close it again when Finn begins to talk.
“Heading down to the bar for a few,” Finn tells his sister. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“It’s Linton,” he laughs. “If I do, I’ll call the Sherriff. The last time it just took two autographed pictures and a couple of passes to a game.”
She looks at me. Her eyes are electric, moving with so many things I’d like to ask her about, but can’t. Not right now. “Have fun,” she says, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to find Poppy and take a nap.”
Finn heads to the door and I follow. Before I turn the corner, I stop. “Offer stands, Sunshine.”
With a wink that brings back some of the lightness to her beautiful face, I follow her brother out the door.