Page 77 of The Playboy's Playbook

Luke looks over at me, his eyes shining in the sunlight. He smiles softly and pats me on the back.

“She said yes, didn’t she?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

LAILA

“If you hand me another scrub brush, I just might scream,” Erica says once she leaves the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, I just want everything to be nice. Oh, could you take the filter out of the vent and change it? Oh, and then there’s the fan in the –”

Erica shoots me the nastiest glare and I immediately shut my mouth.

“Laila, chill. Matthew has been here plenty of times before. Why are you freaking out about one dinner?”

“When he and I are alone, things tend to get…complicated. I mean, thingsarecomplicated,” I sigh, plopping down on the couch. Erica joins me, followed by Nola who has finally calmed down.

I feel like Nola knows that Matthew is coming over because she’s been running in circles all day long. She refused to lay down for a nap and even used the bathroom inside, which she never does. I had to put her in her kennel for most of the afternoon.

“Then uncomplicate them. You clearly have feelings for him. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have kissed him like you did at the reunion, went to the rodeo with him, or even agreed to this dinner. It’s not as complicated as you think. You’re just in your head about it.”

I tug on the ends of my hair knowing Erica’s right – she usually is.

“You don’t even like him, E,” I point out, making us both laugh.

“Very true. But I love you and you’re my best friend and if he makes you happy, then I don’t have much say in the decisions you make when it comes to him. He just better watch his back because if he tries that shit again, that big, muscley man with the permanent frown isn’t the only one he’s gonna have to worry about,” she says, leaning back on the couch.

She pats me on my knee before getting up and grabbing her phone and keys. “I’m going home where I am going to try and not cry at the mere sight of a cleaning supply. You go shower, get pretty, and enjoy tonight. Call me later, okay?”

I stand and give her a big hug. “Thank you. For everything. You’re amazing.”

She pulls away and smiles. “I know. Bye Nola! Be better than you were this afternoon.” Once Erica leaves, Nola gets riled up again, so I put her back in her kennel, closing the door this time.

Matthew will be here at five and it’s four, so I only have an hour left to not only shower and get ready, but to get myself together mentally.

While Erica helped out with the cleaning, I cooked the food for tonight so it would be done by the time Matthew gets here. He didn’t really give me any ideas for what he wanted, so he’ll have to settle for a meal I typically eat – oven baked chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, and green beans.

I take a quick shower, careful not to get my hair wet. I rush to my closet and try to find something casual to wear. I settled on a pair of light washed, high-rise jeans and a cropped cream-colored sweater.

Just as I’m making my way downstairs to finish setting the dinner table, the doorbell sounds. Nola barks excitedly from her kennel and I take a look through the security camera before rushing to open the door.

“Hey,” I breathe as soon as Matthew comes into my view.

“Hey,” he says, a soft smile on his face.

I step aside, letting him enter the house and as he does, he places a soft kiss on my forehead before handing me a bouquet of flowers.

Pink carnations with baby’s breath. Always.

“You look beautiful.” He runs his eyes over my body and suddenly I feel shy. I shouldn’t feel this way because he’s seen every inch of me, but that was then. This is now.

“Thank you. I see we subconsciously decided to match with the colored sweaters,” I say with a smile, causing him to let out a little laugh.

He’s in jeans and a cream-colored sweater, too. His hair is a little damp, fresh from a shower. His cologne invades my senses, a mix of woodsy and spicy scents. I miss that smell wrapping me up like a blanket while I sleep at night.

“I didn’t really know what you wanted, so I prepared baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. I promise my green beans are better than the ones they serve at Hugo’s,” I say as I walk over to the kitchen sink to fill up a vase to put the flowers in.

“Sounds and smells delicious. Where’s –”

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