Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
The moment stretches, the silence between us humming with unspoken words. I should say something, break the tension, but my throat feels tight, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’m not used to this—being vulnerable, letting someone in. It’s foreign and terrifying, and yet, with her, it feels... right.
“You’re good for him,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Carson. He needs someone like you.”
She blinks, surprised. “Someone like me?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Someone who knows how to make him laugh. A woman who cares about him.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak, and for a moment, I think maybe I’ve said too much. But then she steps closer, her gaze locked on mine, and the air around us feels charged, electric.
“Cal,” she murmurs, her voice soft but steady.
I swallow hard, every instinct screaming at me to back away, to shut this down before it’s too late. But I can’t. Not when she’s standing there, looking at me like that. Like she’s waiting for me to make the first move.
I take a step forward, closing the distance between us. My hand brushes her cheek, my thumb grazing her jawline, and she doesn’t pull away. Her breath hitches, her eyes searching mine, and in that moment, I know I’m done for.
“Layla,” I whisper, my voice rough with need.
And then, before I can think better of it, I’m kissing her. Slow and deep, like I’m trying to memorize the taste of her, the feel of her. She responds instantly, her hands tangling in my shirt, pulling me closer.
It’s everything I’ve been holding back, all the frustration and longing and unspoken desire spilling over in one perfect, chaotic moment. I lose myself in her, in the way she presses against me, her warmth, her softness. She’s fire and light and everything I didn’t know I was missing.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, our foreheads resting together. She’s smiling, her cheeks flushed, and for the first time in a long time, I feel... whole.
“Cal,” she whispers, her voice shaky but sure. “What just happened?”
I chuckle, low and rough, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Hell if I know.”
Her laugh is soft, but it’s enough to ease the tension, to remind me that maybe, just maybe, this could work.
But then the weight of reality crashes back down, and I step back, the distance between us suddenly feeling like a chasm.
“I should get to repairin’ that fence this guy tried to jump through,” I mutter, my voice gruff. “The storm last night really had him worked up.”
“Cal—”
“I’ll see you back at the house later,” I say, cutting her off. I don’t look back as I leave the barn, my heart pounding and my thoughts a mess.
Because I know, deep down, that no matter how much I want her, she deserves better than a broken cowboy with more baggage than he knows what to do with. But something tells me she might just be stubborn enough to prove me wrong.
Chapter Five
Layla
The sun pours into the kitchen, golden and warm, as Carson and I roll dough for cookies a few hours after the kiss between Cal and me. Carson’s little hands are dusted with flour, and his cheeks flush with the effort of pressing cookie cutters into the dough. I bite back a smile, watching him carefully arrange each star and heart-shaped piece on the tray.
“You’re a natural, Carson,” I tease, nudging his shoulder lightly. “We might have to open a bakery.”
He grins up at me, a smudge of flour on his nose. “Do we get to eat them all?”
“Of course. That’s the best part.”
A deep voice cuts through the moment, startling me. “You spoiling my boy?”
I glance over my shoulder to find Cal leaning in the doorway, his broad frame nearly filling the space, a grin on his face. His arms are crossed, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he looks at Carson.
“You bet I am,” I counter, turning back to the tray. “Cookies are a requirement.”
Cal grunts, stepping into the room, his boots heavy against the wood floor. “Cookies before dinner, hmm? What’s next, ice cream for breakfast?”
Carson giggles, filling the air with joy. “Mommy Layla says I can,” he chirps, completely unaware of the bomb he’s just dropped.
My hands freeze mid-air. Time seems to stop as I look at Carson, my heart pounding. “What did you just call me?”
Carson blinks up at me, completely unfazed. “Mommy Layla.”
Heat rushes to my face. My gaze darts to Cal, who’s now standing stock-still, his expression a mixture of shock and something deeper—something raw. I can’t tell if it’s anger, confusion, or longing.
“Well,” I manage to say, my voice shaky. “That’s a first.”
Carson shrugs, oblivious. “You feel like a mommy.”
The words hit me like a freight train. I force a smile and ruffle his hair. “You’re sweet, kiddo. Now go wash up while these bake.”