Chapter Seventeen
ADAM
I pulled the casserole dish from the oven and placed it on top of the stove. Mexican and Italian were Lyla’s favorites, and when I told her I could make my mom’s lasagna tonight for dinner, her eyes lit up. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she took the first bite.
My phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, and I glanced down, thankful to see my mom was calling. Talking to her would take my mind off Lyla in the shower.
Hopefully.
I picked up the phone and swiped the answer button. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just wanted to see if you were still coming by tomorrow to look at my kitchen sink.”
I flinched, having forgotten all about it until she had mentioned it.
Which wasn’t typically like me, but the gorgeous redhead living in my apartment and taking up permanent residence in my head was one hell of a distraction.
“Yep. Probably after lunchtime. Lyla has physical therapy in the morning.”
“How’s she doing?”
I turned off the oven and leaned back against the counter. “Good. She’ll do two weeks of PT and then she should be able to get back to work.”
“That’s great. Feel free to bring her with you tomorrow. I always love talking with her.”
What was she rambling about? When did she talk with Lyla? As far as I knew, they’d only met once when Lyla and I were on shift and picked up lunch at The Dock. My mom happened to be there with a group of her friends.
“What do you mean? When do you talk to her?”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “Anytime we run into each other, she always stops and chats with me. She’s so sweet.”
I smiled. That sounded like Lyla. She was good with people. Would get patients talking and calm better than I could sometimes. And anytime we went anywhere in this small town, she would stop and talk to anyone and everyone. I saw myself the same way, and I liked that we shared that trait.
It worked especially well with our crew. Logan and Seth were quiet and standoffish. Zack was great at making people laugh. Jay was better with kids than adults sometimes. And Lyla and I could easily get people talking about anything and everything.
“Okay. I’ll ask her if she wants to come with me.”
I looked up as Lyla appeared, locking eyes with her.
Her hair was wrapped in a T-shirt and her face was free of makeup.
The strong smell of vanilla overwhelmed my senses, and I tried and failed to stop my gaze from trailing down her body.
The snug tank top she wore hugged her tits perfectly, and her leggings fit her like a second skin.
“Alright. Sounds good.”
My mom’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I blinked, glancing back up to Lyla’s face.
Her brows were pulled slightly together as she studied me.
As I kept my eyes focused on hers, the tension between us amped up.
I was only slightly aware of saying bye and hanging up with my mom, as I was locked in the moment with Lyla.
Her lips parted in a perfect O, and I could only hope that she was seeing the desire in my eyes.
The need to finally make her mine consumed me, but I had to stick to the plan. She needed to realize what lay between us on her own, and decide giving us a shot at more than friends was what she wanted too.
LYLA
A shiver raced through me from the desire in Adam’s eyes. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet and looked away. I was being ridiculous. Reading into things. I had to be.
But these moments were getting more frequent, and I couldn’t figure out what was going on.
Had something changed between us? Did I want it to?
I refused to look at him again, but the silence was driving me nuts.
“Who was that?” I finally asked.
He shut the refrigerator door and turned back toward me with a container of grated Parmesan in his hand. “My mom.”
“Oh.” After another moment of hesitation, I stole a glance up at his face.
He smiled—something sweeter than his usual smile. Or maybe I was just overanalyzing every little thing now.
“She said you should come with me tomorrow when I go over there to fix her sink.”
“That’ll be nice. I love chatting with your mom.” Although the break from the looks I couldn’t decipher and the weird moments between us didn’t sound horrible either.
“Funny, she said the same thing about you.”
I shrugged. “She’s a lot like you.”
“Yeah?” he prompted.
“You know, easy to talk to, funny, kind…”
He smiled at me again and my stomach fluttered.
I shifted on my feet, feeling nervous. Like I’d said too much, or went too far.
I’d never questioned things between us, but suddenly I felt so unsure about everything.
I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed, and frankly, I didn’t want anything to change.
At least I didn’t think I did.
But I also couldn’t ignore the weird moments between us in the last two weeks. Or the way my body responded to those moments.
Needing to put some distance between us, I turned and walked the few feet to the table that sat outside the entrance to the kitchen.
I surveyed the Magic game still set up on the table, trying to understand the move he’d made earlier.
Pretty much a hasty attack. He’d said he wasn’t paying attention and missed my creature that had an indestructible effect.
So now he was down his strongest player, leaving me with a large opening.
None of it made sense. Maybe once in a while he’d make a mistake like that. But not twice in the same week.
“Planning your attack?” He set my plate down on the table and went around to the other side, setting his down.
Maybe he was getting bored with it and that was why he was making sloppy moves. “We don’t have to play anymore if you don’t want to.”
His eyes widened. “What? Of course, I still want to play.”
“Okay…” I shrugged.
His forehead creased. “What makes you think I don’t?”
I shrugged. “You don’t typically make careless moves.”
A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “How do you know I didn’t do it on purpose?”
I looked at the board, trying to figure out how the move he made could possibly benefit him. Maybe he had a spell that would allow him to return a creature from his graveyard and give it a special effect.
“Hmm.” I sighed. Only one way to find out.
I played the next few rounds very cautiously, but once I felt confident enough, I attacked with my best creature.
“Sorry.” He chuckled darkly as he played a card that killed my attacker.
“Ugh.” I huffed. “I knew you were holding onto something.”
He shrugged. “I always have a plan.”
I rolled my eyes, and we continued to play. Finally, almost an hour later, I made one last attack, winning the game.
“That’s the second time this week I’ve won.
” I couldn’t stop my lips from forming a huge smile.
It wasn’t that I never won. But he had more patience with the long-game strategy than I did and won more often because of that.
I liked the action of attacking and playing spells, whereas he worked the entire game to build up his creatures, all the time holding onto one or two spells and then wiping me out in one fell swoop.
I knew this, and still I played the way I liked.
I enjoyed the action of the plays during the game, and I didn’t always need to win.
“I have to up my game.”
I chuckled. “Or just stop making insane plays that might not work out.”
“Sometimes you gotta take risks in order to win.” He sat back, staring at me intently. “Bigger the risk, bigger the reward.”
I tilted my head, assessing him. The way he said it made it seem like there was a hidden meaning to his words. Was he saying I needed to take more risks in more than just a game of Magic? And what would prompt him to say that? Or was I just reading too much into his tone? Probably the latter.
When I yawned again for the third time in twenty minutes, he stood and tipped his head toward the hallway. “It’s late. You’re tired. Why don’t you go ahead to bed.”
I rose from my seat and searched his face. For what, I didn’t know. Just a weird feeling that something was left unsaid.
But fatigue had started to settle heavy over my body, and I knew I needed sleep. Tomorrow morning was my first physical therapy appointment, and if I wanted to get back to work in two weeks, then my shoulder needed to be at one hundred percent.
Reluctantly, I nodded. “Good night.”
“Night.”
After shutting the door to the guest room behind me, I leaned back against it, replaying the whole night in my head. Half scared that something between us had changed, and half intrigued about what it all meant.