Page 45 of What Hurts Us

Further into the house, a chorus of voices chattered on in a blend of Farsi and English. “Salam, chetori?” Layla called out into the mix.

The house went deadly quiet before exploding in a cacophony of shouts, clattering kitchenware, and pounding footsteps. The floor shook as the Mousavi family rumbled toward us like an avalanche. A woman with deep-set lines crossing her paper-thin skin elbowed her way to the front of the pack. “Layla joon!”

Layla stopped in her tracks, her shoulder pressing into my arm. “Maman bozorg,” she said with an ear-to-ear smile. The tiny woman in an emerald green hijab threw her arms around Layla’s waist and squeezed with all her might. “I missed you,azizam.”

“Missed you too,” Layla murmured into her shoulder.

A taller woman wearing a bright purple hijab wrapped Layla into a hug, exchanging a few quiet words before turning her attention to me. She gave me a polite nod. “Callum, I’ve heard so many good things about you from my sister and my daughter.”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Mousavi. You have a beautiful home.”

“Mashallah.Please, call me Tara.”

I shifted the bouquet in my arms and passed it off to her, along with the gift bag. “For you.”

Layla eyed the bag curiously as her mother yanked out the tissue paper and pulled out the cutting board I had picked up this morning. Tara’s fingertips traced over the dogwood flowers and water lilies that had been carved into the surface.

“Layla’s told me how you collect them for cheese boards.”

“Yes,” Tara said. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

Over Tara’s shoulder, Karim laughed, shook his head, and mouthed, “Kiss ass.”

We were ushered deeper into the house. Layla’s dad was manning a charcoal grill on the deck that was separated from the kitchen by sliding glass doors. Layla’s aunt was behind a kitchen island, chopping vegetables.

“Ms. Sepideh,” I said with a polite nod. “Nice to see you.”

“You too, Officer Fletcher.” She winked. “Shame we might be a man down for the date auction.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ease the awkwardness, but truth be told, I was feeling pretty damn smug. My plan was working. “Might be. But I’m sure you and Gran will still be able to raise a lot of money.”

“That we will,” Sepideh said with a nod as she finished running her knife through a zucchini. I felt her eyes tracking me as I moved throughout the room. I hoped Layla could pull this off. If anyone was going to call our bluff, it would be Ms. Sepideh. She and I had known each other for years, and she was tight with my Gran. One air of doubt, and she’d have the tongues wagging about the legitimacy of our charade.

Layla was in the dining room, arranging the desserts she had brought onto the sturdy oak sideboard. Bowls of scuppernong and muscadine grapes bracketed the spread of sweets she was unloading. I walked up behind her and slid my hands onto her hips. She flinched, but it was less noticeable than the time I had tried to hold her hand.

My chest pressed against her shoulder blades. “Whatcha got there, honey?”

I didn’t miss the way she leaned back into me. Her heart-shaped ass nuzzled the front of my jeans. I wanted to push the short hem of her sweater dress up and spread her thighs. I wanted to graze my knuckles down her cheek before jerking her chin up to look at me. I hated the way she had been avoiding me since our kiss.

Not that I blamed her.

Layla tilted her head, glancing down at the place where our hips met in parallel lines. Her deft fingers were wrapped around a small bowl of something sugary sweet. “Noghl.Sugar-coated almonds.”

I kept one hand on her hip, stroking my thumb over the rough divots of knitted wool covering the soft curve of her skin. While I savored the feel of her body pressed into mine, I plucked an almond out of the bowl and popped it in my mouth. Sweetness coated my tongue before changing to mellow notes of almond and rosewater. “It’s really good.”

A gentle smile curled at the corner of her rosy lips. “You’re hiding from my dad, aren’t you?” she said just loud enough for me to hear.

I dug my fingers into her hip. “Maybe I just can’t keep my hands off my girlfriend.”

“I didn’t take you as a coward, Fletcher.” She arched her back as she slid a small cake onto a pedestal. Her ass rocked against my crotch.

“I didn’t take you for a tease, Layla-who-doesn’t-date-cops.”

She leaned back, her temple grazing my mouth, as she made a move for a tray of rock candy laced with threads of saffron. Her long, raven hair breezed against my arm. I wanted to tangle my fingers in it.

My heart beat violently inside my chest as I reached between us and brushed her hair over one shoulder. “But I think you like being a tease.” I pressed my lips to the side of her neck, scraping her supple skin with the scruff on my cheek.

“Layla joon,” Sepideh called as she waltzed into the room. “Will you help your father? He’s out on the deck with the grill.”

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