Page 7 of Coming Home to My Cowboy
She shrugs. “I’d probably let you, but I don’t know if I could do the same.”
I swallow. “You’re doing plenty by cooking and decorating.”
“I’ll need your help with some things. The ladder’s all the way out in the shed, probably half frozen. Maybe I could … sit on your shoulder?” Her gaze flicks to my broad shoulders, drinks in my short, well-trimmed beard, then drops to my chest and stomach.
I’m not as muscled as I used to be, but no one would know that by looking at her face. She licks her bottom lip.I swear, if she does it one more time, I am going to devour that plump mouth of hers here and now.
“Anyway, please let me know when you’re ready to go into town. I promise to make it fun.”
“I’m sure you won’t have to try.”
She giggles and trails her hand over my lower back. “That comment won’t stop me from trying.”
I watch her walk away and try to focus on making coffee, but I keep wondering if she tastes as sweet as she asks. Maybe black coffee wouldn’t be able to dull it. And when the hell did she grow up so much?
Twenty-three … I remember what I was like at twenty-three. I felt unstoppable, was sure I was on top of the world. I’d gotten the hang of being an adult, at least on the good beats, and had learned how to manhandle the hard moments into something that was easy to manage.
Layla must be riding that same high, but …
She’d look so much better riding me.
The thought comes out of nowhere ruining my composure and shaking me to my core. Exhaling slowly, I shake my head and try to focus on the coffee for the tenth time in 5 minutes. I fill my mug, add some sugar, and walk back to the living room.
Layla’s stretching to hang decorations just so, revealing a sliver of her belly as her shirt rides up. Seeing her stretched like that, balanced on one foot, arching slightly … I should help, but damn, seeing her on display in those leggings that are like a second skin and a shirt that doesn’t hide her curves makes staying in place a better option.
If I help, I might touch her. If I touch her … I might forget she’s my best friend’s daughter who just happens to be sweet, smart, and fucking sexy as hell.
Chapter 5 - Layla
I lick my bottom lip as I watch Jace over my book. Yesterday, he effortlessly carried a decent sized Christmas tree to the car. I’d been focused on shopping until I came out of the store and found him strapping the tree down to the roof of my car with soft grunts and sure hands. I nearly dropped every bag I was carrying just watching him.
His face flushed all the way down to his beard, his throat working as he grumbled almost silently, his arms rippling as they tightened and flexed. If he would have been shirtless, it would have been perfect.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I read the same page of the book for the fourth time. I can’t get into the romance even though this is one of my favorite books. Jace insisted on taking care of the decorations I couldn’t reach. He’s down to a tank top and his jeans and watching him move is so much better than reading.
His eyes flick to me and he arches an eyebrow. “It’ll be up to your standards when it’s done.”
“You’re always up to my standards,” I say boldly.
He blinks once, then looks back at me, as if checking to make sure he heard me correctly. He did and I won’t take it back.I don’t want to overwhelm him, but I want things to be clear. Being around him is torture of the sweetest variety and I feel ridiculous feeling it alone.
“Is that so?” He asks, almost smiling.
“You actually set quite a few standards. Two days here and you’ve reinforced them all. You’re shockingly capable at just about everything I can imagine,” I murmur, then flip the page as if I’m actually reading.
He snorts once, but I catch a hint of his smile and the curiosity across his gaze. “I’m capable of more than you think, but probably less than you’d believe.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Plenty … more that I probably shouldn’t say,” he says, his face twisting.
“What if I want you to say?” I ask, my voice breathy. He watches me for a long moment and I swear the silence is about to ignite. I swallow and suck my bottom lip.
“Have you heard from your father?” he asks, straightening up like he’s gotten caught doing something bad. I get it. Flirting with him is dangerous, especially when I think he’s flirting back.
“He’ll be flying in two days,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed. “He feels awful about it, but it isn’t his fault.”
Jace nods, quiet and steady.
