Page 22 of The Interception
“Not unless you can get Coach to chill a little.”
Leo laughs. “Probably not, but call me if you think of something I can actually do. I don’t mind, really.”
“Thanks, man. I’m just gonna go home, work on some recipes, then take a long nap if Lula will let me.”
His head bobs and he adds, “If Sarah Beth and Lula want to get out of the house a little, I can take them to the park or something. You know, give you some time alone and everything.”
I blow out a frustrated breath because, yeah, some time alone would be nice, but then a wave of guilt hits me. “Nah, it’s all right. If they get restless, I’ll see if she’s interested, though.”
Leo nods and heads out, leaving me to my own devices. Driving home distracts me from thinking about Layne long enough that I almost forget she’s still at my house. When I pull up to my drive, there’s an unmistakable sound of children’s music blaring from my home.
“What in the world is happening in there?” I ask aloud, not that anyone could hear me over it if they wanted to.
When I reach my front door, I am immediately assaulted by what I can only describe as a group of feral cats dyinga miserable death with an entire theme song playing in the background. I’m not sure what is going on, but I’m not about to make a noisy entrance and ruin it before I can find out. I slip the key into the lock and slowly turn it so the click won’t distract them. Pushing the door open, I brace myself for anactualherd of wild cats. You never know with my sister, but what I find instead is Layne taking every lemon that life has ever thrown my sister, and making it into lemonade—or limoncello, to be exact.
Sarah Beth is hopping up and down in the middle of the living room with Lula’s sparkly pink microphone in her hand. She belts out the chorus to a ridiculous kid’s song I’ve heard a thousand times already, but not like this. My sister never could sing, but it doesn’t matter. She’shappy.
Lula is dancing around her mother and Layne, wearing a princess dress and carrying her karaoke machine. Her hair is in two high pigtails, and her sweet cheeks are covered with peanut butter and jelly. She drops the machine onto the floor and raises her arms to Layne.
It’s now that I realize Layne has the crappy, cracked unicorn microphone we give Lula when we need a little peace and quiet—mostly because even on high, it’s crackly and quiet—and she’s belting along with my sister. Layne’s dark hair is wavy today, and she’s wearing jeans and…a jersey-style tee that isnotmine. I don’t know why that piece of information makes my insides rage like a jealous ape, but the way it heats my cheeks says I need to be careful. Watch myself before I’m totally wrecked by this woman.
I don’t recognize the shirt if it’s borrowed, not that I know everything my sister owns. Maybe Layne had it in her bag or something. She did carry a fairly large tote in with her last night. I manage to take note of the name on the jersey.Rossi.Her own name on the back of a Savannah Sharks baseball jersey tee.Whew. Maybe she’s just a big fan of the Sharks. I can handle that.
What am I saying? Of course, I can handle that. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend. Nope. Just my cook-off competition partner. And that is where itends.Nothing more, nothing less.
Layne hits a high note, turns around in a spin with Lula, and we make eye contact. Sheer mortification twists her features into something resembling that squishy-faced unicorn on my niece’s microphone. She squeals and drops the mic, which sends a reverberating screech through the karaoke machine just as the song ends. She sets Lula down and tries to pick up the mic but manages to kick it across the room instead. She chases after it, but it evades her at every pass until she’s practically right in front of me, just beside the entryway to the kitchen.
Eventually, she gives up and stands straight up in front of me. Her dark hair flies everywhere, and her cheeks are so red I want to pinch them. The microphone rolls back toward her, so she kicks it aside and offers a fake, wide grin. “Um, hi.”
I raise an eyebrow but never break our eye contact. Sarah Beth and Lula giggle in the background, but my focus is lasered in on Layne, the beautiful ray of sunshine who brightened the day of the two people who mean the most to me in the world. I haven’t heard either of them laugh so hard in months.
I don’t want to break eye contact with her, but more than that, I don’t want to ruin the fun. I clear my throat, step into the kitchen, grab a whisk from the utensil caddy, kick off my shoes, and slide across the floor in a terrible Risky Business impersonation. Sarah Beth turns the machine back on and dials it up, while Lula hops around giggling.
It takes all of ten seconds before we’re all having a dance party in the middle of the living room again. Sarah Beth hugs Lula close and lets her sing into the loud microphone. Lula must befeeling better, because she belts out the chorus of the song in her sweet voice.
Layne’s smile is so wide and sincere, it makes mine spread wider. I reach for her hand and twirl her around in the most dramatic way possible. The exhaustion that pulled at me before is almost gone now as these ladies rocket me into a second wind with their infectious laughter and ridiculous dance moves.
Eventually, Lula starts coughing again and Sarah Beth stops dancing. “Uh oh, we might have done too much too soon.”
Layne turns the karaoke machine off and bends over with my sister. “I’m sorry, Lula. Are you okay?”
“Yes! Again!” Lula screams.
Layne laughs but my sister puts her foot down. “I think it’s time for some water and a nap, then we’ll see about another dance party, okay?” Lula sticks her lower lip out but heeds her mother’s direction. Sarah Beth lifts Lula into her arms and carries her down the hall. “I’m going to lay down with her. You two get to work making a great dessert!”
The living room is a disaster, but Layne is already on it. She picks up the breakfast plates and heads to the kitchen, grabbing a few stray stuffed animals on the way to drop in the stuffy bin. I move around the room and put the rest of the toys away and grab Lula’s mass of coloring books to put on the shelf. Once I’ve picked up the last crayon, Layne leans on the door frame and sighs.
“Dishes cleaned. I’m so tired. That kiddo is a hoot and a half.”
I can’t stop my smile. “I know, she’s amazing. You didn’t have to do the dishes, but I appreciate it. You need a break before we work out a dessert recipe?”
“Uh, no, I think I’m all right. I worked out a few ideas this morning when Lula was still asleep and your sister was exercising.” She grabs the paper pad from the counter and hands it to me.
“Hand pies? That could be good. You know, a few years ago, I did lose the dessert round to a woman who made mini pecan pies. We have the same judges as we did that year, so it might be a good way to go.” I scan the list and see a variety of cookies and a banana bread recipe. They would all be good, but the pies call to me. “Let’s try the pies first and go from there.”
“What flavor do you want to go with?”
She has apple, cherry, pecan, pumpkin…all the usual pie flavors for fall, which would be perfect for game season, but we need that twist she seems to be so good at to really knock it out of the park.
