Chapter 8
8
ARCHER
A sense of satisfaction sweeps over me as I stack the last of the firewood in the outdoor shed and head back toward my house. I may be well stocked up for the winter but splitting a few logs before work is still my favorite way to start the day.
I stroll into the living room, smiling to myself at the sight of Sky. He sits in the middle of the floor, watching his cartoons and making a loud racket.
“Hey buddy,” I greet him.
“Mista Musdache…” he mumbles absently, barely sparing me a glance. He’s too busy, bopping along to the nursery rhyme jams on the screen and banging the TV remote on his blocks like a hammer.
With a chuckle, I ruffle his little head as I walk by. The kid is adorable. Even at his age, he already has a full head of hair, the same rich shade of mahogany as his mom’s.
I head for the kitchen and when I spot Layla, my feet pause.
She’s crouched in a fighting position with a half-melted plastic container gripped in her hand. She’s in the middle of a standoff with a rather large spider that’s crawling up the side of the cabinet. Looks like she’s preparing to capture this monstrous eight-legged creature, and if I hadto guess, I’d bet she’s planning to release the thing outside in the wild.
Even from the other side of the room, I can see that she’s terrified. She’s shaking and muttering to herself as she slowly approaches her target.
“Come on, little guy…Work with me here…I won’t hurt you…Just promise you won’t jump on my face…”
I watch in amusement as she speaks in hushed tones to the spider, desperately trying to convince it to crawl into her container on its own free will.
Spoiler alert: her persuasion tactics aren’t working.
I finally speak up. “Am I interrupting your hostage negotiations in here?”
At the sound of my voice, Layla jumps a mile off the floor and drops her container. It clatters at her feet, sending the spider scurrying further up the cabinet.
She spins to face me. Judging by her terrified eyes, it’s like she thinks I’m a big, hairy spider, too.
I bend down, pick up the container and reach up to capture the spider with ease. I march the thing over to the back door and release it outside.
“Thank you,” Layla says on a relieved sigh, wiping sweat off her temple.
“You’re welcome. But what I’m trying to figure out is why you’re in here trying to catch a spider in the first place, when you’re clearly terrified out of your mind.”
She shrugs. “I’m a mother. I don’t have the option to let fear slow me down. I have a child to raise. A child to protect from big scary things, even if I’m scared, too.”
Her words strike my gut like an upper cut.
“But you do have the option to ask me for help. I was right in the yard. And I’m already wearing my spider-catching suit,” I add playfully, pinching at the shoulders of the navy blue flannel I’m wearing today.
Lips the color of rose petals tilt into a small smile. Her dark brown waves shimmer under the dim glow of the overhead lights. “Force of habit, I guess. I’ve never had the luxury of being able to rely on a man.”
In this moment, it’s so damn clear that she was never properly cared for. Ever. All I want to do is fix that. And punch the face of every man who’s ever disappointed her.
“Well, while you’re here, can you give me the luxury of capturing spiders for you?” I let one eyebrow hike up my forehead in challenge to lighten the mood.
She chuckles softly, slipping a loose tendril behind her ear. “Okay. Sounds good to me.”
With a satisfied nod, I busy myself with preparing my morning coffee and bagel. Working silently next to me in the kitchen, Layla prepares snacks to send with Sky to daycare.
Then we hear a loud clatter in the living room. “I’ve got it,” I say, since Layla’s hands are now covered in soap suds as she washes his little sippy cup.
I quickly jog into the other room where Sky is in the middle of getting into trouble. I find him in a pile of old DVD cases, starting to reach for some cords behind the TV.
In a quick move, I scoop the tiny boy off his feet and toss him up into the air. “What do you think you’re doing, little man?”
The mischievous child giggles, giving me his full attention now. Those big brown eyes sparkle at me.“Hewo, Mista Musdache,” he says. That’s his nickname for me. Whenever he calls me that, it never fails to make me grin.
“Hello, Mr. Trouble.”
I spent the week baby-proofing this house. Covering up electrical outlets. Getting rid of choking hazards. Installing safety latches on everything. Even moving my jigsaw puzzle from the living room to the back room. But I’m learning that it’s never enough. This little guy gets into everything. Nothing gets past him. I think he’s just too smart to fall for my tricks.
Layla comes in, zipping up Sky’s lunch box. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry, Archer,” she blurts out, her forehead crinkled and tense as she drops the lunch box on the couch to gather up the DVD cases scattered across the floor. As she cleans up the mess, she continues apologizing for her boy’s behavior. She’s been apologizing all week.
I reach out and grasp her upper arm, gently coaxing her to her feet. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just exploring.”
Layla’s shoulders rise then collapse on a stuttered exhale. She gives me a curt nod. “Thank you, Archer. I mean it.”
We stand there for a beat. And Layla’s eyes roam up and down my body, as her child loops his arms around my neck and tucks his head against my shoulder. I see the way her gaze pauses where my shirt is pulled up, exposing my lower torso.
Wait—is she…checking me out?
I clear my throat. “Uh, you ready to go?”
Layla blinks, snapping back to the present. “I’m ready.”
She gathers Sky from my arms, and puts on his snow suit. Then she grabs her purse andSky’s dinosaur backpack—and his lunchbox and his mittens and his sneakers—before leading the way to the front door.
With a thunderous growl, I snatch the load from her overflowing arms before she can step outside.
“What?” she questions me as we head down the front steps.
“Learn to ask for help, woman,” I toss at her. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.”
She winces. “Right. Right.”
An icy gust of wind greets us as we amble across the gravel driveway toward the plastic-covered carport. This year, it’s so damn cold. The winter has been brutal so far and we still have three or four more months to go. I’m grateful to have a reliable truck that can handle all the heavy snow.
But one glance at Layla’s threadbare tires and I’m not so sure her vehicle is equipped to withstand this harsh weather.
She hisses as she approaches her ride. “Shit. I forgot to come out and warm it up.”
I give the car another skeptical once-over as I start to pack her things into the backseat. I want to say something about the vehicle’s condition, but I hold my tongue.
Instead, I grab Sky out of her arms again. He immediately reaches for my beard, plucking at it in fascination. I snatch his curious, little hand and pretend to bite his pudgy fingers.
Sky’s happy giggles bring a faint smile to Layla’s lips. She shivers, climbing behind the wheel to start the engine. But when she swears under her breath again, I glance at her dashboard and see that her gas tank is on empty .
I can tell that she’s embarrassed. And frustrated.I just want to make it better.
“We’ll take my truck?” I suggest casually. “No use in taking two cars, especially since we’re going to the same destination.”
Layla frowns as she turns her key over in the ignition. “But I have to drop Sky off at daycare first. You’ll be late for work. Late opening up the store.” She peers up at me with those pretty brown eyes.
I ignore the way my skin tingles when she looks at me. “I told you—the hardware store can wait. No one’s lining up down the block, waiting to buy wire cutters this early. Trust me.”
She blows out a heavy breath. “Archer—”
I don’t want to hear it. “Let me make sure that you and Sky are okay,” I insist. “We’ll carpool.”
Her shoulders sink in defeat. “All right. Okay.”
Layla climbs out of the driver’s seat and leans into the back to grab Sky’s car seat. But I stop her with a hand on her shoulder and pop open the back door of my vehicle.
“Is this the right car seat?” I ask, motioning to the contraption that’s already strapped into the back of my truck. “Not too big?”
Layla blinks at the infant seat. Then she blinks again. “Sorry?”
“This car seat. Is it the right size for Sky? I know that car seats go by height, and I’m not sure how tall little man is so—”
“You bought my son a carseat?” Her words come out shaky. Slow.
“Well, technically, I didn’t buy it. We have them in stock at the hardware store.”
She whimpers, her eyes starting to fill with water.
I grow uncomfortable as I try to explain my reasoning. “I figured that while you’re here, I might as well put one in my truck just in case.”
She teeters a bit, her knees going weak where she stands in the driveway staring into my truck. “There’s a car seat in your truck…for my son…”
“Well…yeah,” I say, feeling unsure of what I did to upset her.
She swallows. “You put a car seat in your truck for my son …” she repeats.
“Not a big deal.”
She puffs out a laugh. “Razor tried driving Sky around without a carseat, insisting that nothing would happen because he’s a safe driver. He would have just left the poor child rolling around in the back, if I hadn’t caught him.”
I hold back an angry growl. Razor’s such a waste of space .
Meanwhile, Layla’s losing her battle against those tears gathering in her eyes. “Thank you,” she says, wiping at her wet cheeks and putting on a smile. “Say ‘thank you’, Sky.”
The little guy grins at me, bouncing in my arms. “Ta-kou!”
Layla and I both laugh.
“You’re welcome, little guy.” I stroke his chubby cheek that’s already turning red from the cold.
We all get into my vehicle and the scent of Layla’s mango shampoo surrounds me, but I try to ignore that. Instead, I make sure everyone’s all buckled up before we head off toward Sky’s daycare. As I pull out of the yard, my chest is full of emotions.
I’m liking this.
I’m liking this little domestic routine that’s unfolding this morning with Layla and Sky. Too much.
Waking up under the same roof. Getting ready for our day. Riding to work together. It just feels right.
But as we cruise down the mountainside, we pass by Layla’s old house. I see the way her shoulders go tense when we spot Razor and a pregnant Janet both out in the front yard, laughing and dragging Janet’s luggage toward the house. He’s moving her in. Well, damn. That was fast.
I see the shattered expression on Layla’s face as she watches the scene play out.
She’s jealous.
I feel a sting through the chest. It’s a sting that reminds me not to lose my head over Layla. Because she’s still not over Razor. After everything he’s done to her, she’s probably still in love with that bastard.
So I’ve got to rein my emotions right in. Because the last thing I want is to be a part of another love triangle.
Been there. Done that. Lost the girl.
And it sucked. I wouldn’t be able to handle that again.
Once I finally recovered from Kathryn, I thought I’d learned my lesson. But here I am years later, tempted to repeat history with a different, but equally unavailable woman.
To make matters worse, Layla’s not just any woman. She’s my employee. She’s my roommate. She’s my sister’s best friend.
Which means I can’t afford to do something stupid.
Pushing my hurt back into the grave where it belongs, I train my attention on the snow-covered road. We may be stuck living under the same roof and working together all day, but maintaining my mental distance from Layla is the safest course of action here.
Losing sight of that could cost me dearly. And I’ll have no-one to blame but myself.