Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Half of it,” she adds.
“Ninety-two percent of it,” I admit.
“Figured. So . . . tell me, are all the rumors true? The man who never laughs. Smiles. Has a relationship with anyone. Is he the asshole you expected to find?”
“A man dedicated to his work. And the rest of that is not true,” I defend.
“What’s not true?”
“He does smile. And he laughs,” I add as I look at my reflection in the mirror. The flush of my cheeks is even more prominent now. It’s from the warm water. Sure, it is. Who am I kidding? It looks like I spent the day at the beach and forgot to put on lotion. Cain Archer is the sun, and his proximity the burn.
“How do you know?” Her question has me shaking my head and pulling my attention back down to the phone that has been forgotten about on the counter. Too lost in the memory of the night and the feel of his hand on mine.
Damn, there I go again. “He did both with me,” I admit, knowing this is opening a can of worms that I will never be able to close.
“What do you mean, Layla? Are you holding out on me?”
“I’ve been here for less than a day. How much could I be holding out?”
“Enough that you saw him smile and laugh.” The line goes silent, but then I hear her let out a long, drawn-out breath. “Layla.” Scolding parent mode activated.
“He took me to dinner.” If she could see me, she would see that I have buried my face in my hands, but thankfully, we are not on FaceTime, so now, I just wait.
One . . .
Two . . .
“Details, woman!”
I give them to her. Grabbing my phone, I plop down once again on the floor with my back against the bathroom door this time and tell her everything.
How he listened. How he knows my story. My parents’ awful truth. The truth I wasn’t wanted.
I tell her how he smiled at me after.
And the worst part of the story spills out, too. I even tell her, despite my better judgment and the fact that I only just met him, I felt a connection. A part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind and be kissed by Cain. When all the words finish pouring out of my mouth, I let out a large sigh.
It feels good to confess my stupidity.
The line is silent when I finish speaking, and for a second, I think the call dropped, but then I hear Mara groan. Shit, now what?
“Just be careful.”
“Be careful? No reason to be careful. Didn’t you hear my story? He didn’t want me. It was just a friendly dinner.”
“Oh, no, it wasn’t. That was no casual dinner, Layla. The man who doesn’t let anyone get close, let you. That’s why you need to be careful. Because from everything I have heard, he’s not a good guy. He doesn’t do emotions or have connections. Cain’s the type of man a woman could lose her heart to, and he wouldn’t blink an eye when he shatters it in the palm of his hands.”
I don’t speak for a second, trying to come up with some defense, but I’m left empty-handed.
“Listen, I have to go, but please think about what I said.”
“I will.”
I hang up and think back on my dinner as I get ready for bed.
Mara’s words rattle in my head all night long as I try to chase sleep.
7
Cain
I start my day, as always, with a sunrise walk around the property. It usually clears my head and gets my priorities in focus.
I don’t know what it is about this woman.
What transpired last night has never happened to me before. Sure, I’ve smiled in the past. But the smiles were forced. I taught myself how to appear normal. It’s a pain in the fucking ass, if I’m being totally honest. But also, a necessity.
I found it easier, though, to just fall into the stereotype. Successful antisocial architect.
When I read the first article describing my cold nature, I ran with it because the truth is, that’s how I’ve always been. Pretending to smile didn’t seem necessary any longer as a successful adult.
People were drawn to me because of my talent, despite my lack of social graces.
Life is easier when I don’t have to pretend. But that’s the thing about Layla; there’s no need to pretend. I often find myself smiling. Which is something I don’t understand.
The first time it happened, it took me off guard completely.
It’s hard to remember the last time I smiled unprovoked. Come to think of it, in the past . . . even with her, I think I made myself. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I will myself to push out the memories.
This makes no sense at all. Why now? Why Layla?