Page 54 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

I suddenly felt giddy at the thought of introducing Jude to my kiddos. I knew we’d agreed to take things slow, no pressure and all that, but those kids meant everything to me, and something in my gut was telling me Jude could very quickly come to mean something special as well. Whether or not I was jumping the gun or putting the cart before the horse or whatever, I was excited, and I wanted to ride that wave for as long as possible. “Okay, then I’ll go get ready. Meet you down at my place in half an hour?”

He gave me a shrewd look. “Half an hour?” he asked, his tone indicating that he knew me better than that.

I liked to primp, sue me. I didn’t do my hair and makeup because I was trying to impress anyone; I did it because I liked to. Maybe some people considered me vain, but what did I care what anyone else thought? I dressed the way I dressed because I liked the style. I drove a Mercedes because I loved that car, and I liked spending time on my hair and makeup every day because going through the motions was relaxing to me, and I liked to play around with it all. So, yes, it usually took me longer than some women to get ready in the mornings.

“All right, maybe forty-five minutes.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, coaxing them open in a sensual, languid, almost lazy kiss. “Okay, baby.” I no longer minded when he called me princess; I actually liked it now. But Ireallyliked when he called me baby. “I’ll come get you in forty-five.”

I couldn’t wait.

24

Layla

After arriving at Hope House and making introductions, it didn’t take us long to get right down to it. We headed for the back so Tessa could explain her vision for the garden. If he noticed the rectangular dirt patch that was still very much there, he didn’t say a word about it. Instead, he pulled out a sketch pad he’d brought with him and proceeded to scribble on the first blank sheet in it as he moved around the large, empty space that teemed with possibilities.

For close to an hour he hadn’t said more than a handful of words to anyone as he walked from one end of the field to the other. His silence eventually led to Tessa veering off to handle her duties as director of Hope House, and I gathered the girls outside for our makeup lessons, using the excuse that it was too beautiful to be stuck inside and that natural lighting was always best for makeup application.

I just wanted to be close to him. Unfortunately, I was finding it hard as hell to focus on anything but him. It was interesting to watch Jude work. I was intrigued, wondering what was going on inside his head, what he was picturing. He’d occasionally stop, and at first I thought he was staring off into space, but after a few seconds, he’d bury his face in the sketch pad, his hand moving at an almost feverish pace before finally looking up at nothing once more. Then he’d move to a different place and the whole process would repeat. He wasn’t lost in space, he was seeing it in his head.

The whole thing fascinated me. His creative mind, the long strokes he made on the pad with that black marker, the way the muscles in his forearm swelled and bunched as he drew whatever he was imagining, even that little furrow that formed between his eyebrows as he got lost in creative thought.

“Yo, earth to Ms. Layla,” one of the girls called out, pulling me from my ogling. I ripped my gaze off Jude’sfinejean-clad ass to face Cara, the high school sophomore who’d just interrupted my leering.

I’d been so lost in staring, much like Jude did whenever inspiration seemed to strike, that I’d all but forgotten the girls gathered around the picnic table with me, waiting for me to teach them the trick to enhancing their natural beauty as opposed to slathering their face with so much crap they looked like someone else completely. I might have liked to primp and do all that other girly stuff, but I drew a hard and fast linelongbefore I reached a Khloe Kardashian-airbrushed level of made-up. That was just ridiculous.

My eyes darted around to the other girls to find they were all looking at me with the same open curiosity and amusement. “Sorry,” I mumbled after clearing my throat in embarrassment. “What were you saying?” I asked Cara.

One of the other girls, Bethany, reached over to give her friend Sam a playful shove. “Itoldyou she wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah,” Cara tagged on. “She’s too busy staring ather man.”

“Pfft. I would be too,” another girl, Haven, declared. “If I had a dude who looked like that, I’d stareAll. Day. I’d never get anything done.” She looked back to me and winked. “No wonder you wanted to do this whole makeup gig outside today.”

Out of habit, I opened my mouth to correct them that Jude wasn’t my man, but then I remembered last night, and realized he kind of was. Everything was still so fresh that it was easy to forget for a second and revert back to the Jude and Layla who had pushed each other’s buttons for the fun of it.

“All right, you little monsters. Eyes off the man candy, let’s focus.”

“We weren’t the ones getting all spacey and googly-eyed at our boyfriend,” Haven teased.

I gave her a killing look which cracked up all the girls, the warning in my eyes having absolutely no effect whatsoever. We got back down to it. I taught them what I knew about makeup and pointed them to some of my favorite YouTube videos for the more difficult stuff like liquid liner.

Once we were finished, they took off and headed back into Hope House to show off their new looks to the rest of the kids, leaving me to pack up the crapload of makeup I’d brought with me. With a quiet moment to myself, I twisted on the bench, putting my back to the table so I could prop myself up on my elbows and close my eyes, tilting my face up toward the sun.

A minute later, a large shadow made the warmth and light blink out. “Hey,” I said, peeling my eyes open to find Marcus standing nearby.

“Hey.” He sat down on the bench beside me, assuming the same position I was in, the picture of relaxation, except for the expression marring his face.

“What’s up? Everything good?”

“Yeah. It’s good,” he muttered, staring off at nothing.

I studied his profile, the plains of his face harder than usual. “You sure?”

“Yep. So who’s the dude?” he asked, changing the subject with a tilt of his chin in Jude’s direction. “That your boyfriend or something?”

“Or something. It’s really new, so we haven’t exactly put a label on it yet.”

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