4. Lyla
4
LYLA
And what if I do wish that?
The question Amos asked hangs heavy in the air, creating an electric current more powerful than any lightning storm.
My heart pounds so loud I’m certain he can hear it and my brain short circuits. It’s impossible to think of anything but how badly I want him.
Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth just as my phone rings. My hands shake when I pull it from my pocket, frowning at Jamie’s name on my screen. He’s always had the worst timing.
Amos steps away from me, muttering, “Cockblocker.”
I shoot him a look, wondering why he’s acting strange today. Maybe it’s the snowstorm. Maybe that’s throwing him off-balance just like it is me. That’s what it has to be, right?
“You didn’t answer my text,” Jamie says. “Where the hell are you? Why didn’t you answer?”
I sigh dramatically for effect. My brother is ten years older than me and he’s always been overprotective. But it got worse after my dad died when I was just fourteen. I think he felt guilty that he was stationed overseas and couldn’t do much for me. “Yes, I’m here and safe. Amos picked me up at the airport.”
“Have you seen the shop in person?” He asks and I can hear the relief in his voice. He thinks I’m safe with Amos. He wouldn’t think that if he knew how close he was standing to me just seconds ago, his chest pressed against my back and my body absorbing his heat. If only I’d leaned back a little more, pressed my ass into the curve of his groin.
“It’s beautiful.” I smile and tell him about the snowstorm and how Amos is here helping me set up the place. I force my voice to stay light and cheerful, careful to avoid the slightest hint of tension.
When I’m done telling him all about it, I look around for Amos. But he must have slipped back into his side of the building.
“Everything here is good,” I reassure my brother. “We might lose power so don’t panic if I don’t call you for a few days.”
“Just try not to screw everything up this time,” Jamie says. “You already failed at college. Let’s not add this to the list.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I didn’t fail at college since he didn’t exactly give me a chance to make any of my own choices. Instead, I tell him to be safe before I end the call.
Having a sibling that’s ten years older than you is weird. Jamie isn’t quite a brother but he’s not quite a parent either. He’s a mix of the two roles though he definitely seems to think he’s more of a parent. I still don’t even have access to my trust fund despite being twenty-two.
As I’m hanging up, Amos reappears with a toolbox in hand. “Figured we’d need these at some point.”
“That’s perfect,” I say as I reach for the box labeled decorations. There’s one thing that needs to be put in place first. It’s my favorite item but when I open the box, the splintered wood that greets me has my eyes filling with tears.
“What is it?” Amos pushes away from the donut case that he was inspecting to come stand beside me. He scowls at the broken wooden sign. It’s in so many pieces that it’ll be next to impossible to fix it. “I take it that was custom-made.”
I blink away the tears, not willing to cry in front of Amos. He already thinks I’m a little kid and that phone call with Jamie probably reminded him of all the reasons we can never be together.
“My dad.” My breath catches in my throat. I don’t know if I can even put into words how precious this little blue sign is or rather was. It’s too badly damaged to be repaired.
I’m silent for a few minutes before I finally manage to compose myself enough to speak again. “He made it for me when I was eight. I’d just started this silly little roadside bakery stand. My desserts were awful, but he believed in me. The sign used to read Lyla’s Bakery in these pretty block letters.”
He was the only person in my entire life that’s believed in me wholeheartedly. When I told Jamie I was dropping out of college to focus on my baking full-time and wanted to use my trust fund to build it, he was angry with me. He told me I’d amount to nothing and end up living on the streets.
The next day, Jamie called and apologized. He told me he’d support my dream, whatever that looked like. That’s a big reason why this little donut shop has to succeed. I want to show my brother that little Lyla can stand on her own two feet without his help.
“I know it’s silly, being sad over a sign.” I step away from Amos and will myself to calm down.
“It’s not silly,” Amos offers, compassion shining in those blue eyes of his. I wish he’d hug me, wrap his strong arms around me and offer me the comfort of his body. But that would probably be dangerous ground, given the way we were flirting before that phone call.
“With that sign, I felt like he was still with me,” I explain, feeling the familiar rush of heartache all over again.
Grief is a weird thing. You think you’re over it. You think you’ve managed to put it all in this closet in your mind. Then you accidentally open the door and suddenly all of your emotions from the loss are spilling out, creating another mess on the floor.
Squaring my shoulders, I pull out the few decorations that survived in the box undamaged and set them aside before I tape the box closed. “I guess this goes out by the garbage now.”
“I’ll take this to my employee area and discard it later,” Amos says, scooping up the box into his strong arms.
I frown when I notice it. “You’re still wearing that.” It’s a paracord bracelet I gave him before his final mission.
He glances at the green rope. “I never take it off.”
Amos never talked about his missions but for some reason, he seemed uneasy about that one. I gave him the bracelet, promising it would bring him home safely. I want to ask him about it, why he’s never removed it.
But I don’t and he leaves to take the box to his employee’s room.
The coffee machine dings, letting me know the coffee is finally done. I grab the cups and pour both of us a mug. Those times spent camping together taught me a lot of little things about him. Like how he prefers his coffee with cream only, no sugar.
When he returns, I pass him his coffee then make my own drink. The warm beverage burns all the way down, comforting me.
Amos takes a sip before clearing his throat. “I do too.”
I frown at him over the rim of my coffee cup. “What?”
“You said your dad believed in you. I do too. Just thought you should know.” He sets his coffee cup on the counter and moves to the front of the shop, eyeing a bakery display case that set me back nearly ten grand. Starting a business is not cheap. “Where do you want me to put this one?”
I blink, surprised by the sudden change of topic. I can never read this man. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.
We spend the next few hours arranging the bakery. Actually, I just tell Amos where I want things and he grunts and moves them into place.
I keep sneaking peeks as he works, watching the way the muscles in his biceps bulge as he wrestles the heavy bakery cases where I want them. I never realized I was an arm girl, but I guess I am now that I’ve seen him at work.
When I decide on a completely different layout, Amos doesn’t even complain. He starts moving all of the display cases and tables around again. He would pretty much be boyfriend of the year if he were my boyfriend. Of course, he’s not and my stupid hormones need to remember that.
“Thanks for the help,” I say. At this point, he’s gotten all of the furniture where I want it permanently. I love the new design of my shop though I still need to set up the kitchen. But as my dad would say, that is tomorrow’s problem. “I wish I had my father’s sign. It would make this perfect.”
The power flickers for the third time and Amos grimaces. “The flashlights are upstairs in the apartment. Let’s grab them now.”
“Afterwards, I’ll make you dinner for all your help,” I promise. I appreciate everything he’s done for me and I don’t want to ever take advantage of Amos. Well, actually I do want to take advantage of the hot mountain man but in a different kind of way.
Upstairs, Amos retrieves the flashlights from the cabinet in the bathroom. I glance around the small space. “So you used to live here?” I can’t imagine his large frame fitting in a bathroom this tiny. “Did anyone else live here with you?”
He snorts. “Nope.”
His admission fills me with relief. Because every time I’m around Amos, one word goes through my head: mine . He’s mine and I don’t ever want another woman to be with him.
Dismissing the jealous thoughts, I say, “I think I’ll wash up before I make dinner.”
He continues standing there for a long moment and finally, I manage an awkward chuckle. “I’m just going to grab my toiletries.”
He shakes his head as if to clear it and moves to leave the bathroom. He pauses and passes me a flashlight. “Leave it on in case the lights go.”
I take it from him, feeling the way our fingers brush. I try to ignore the way his touch makes me tingle all over, especially in that sensitive area between my thighs. I don’t know how I’m going to survive being this sexy man’s neighbor, knowing he’ll be so close and so out of reach at the same time.
I fight a yawn and lose the battle. Way to look sexy, Lyla.
But I can’t deny that I’m dead on my feet. Traveling all day, being around my hot mountain man, and rearranging the shop twice has taken it out of me.
He gives me a grin, showing off that one dimple of his. I see it so rarely, and I don’t know if that’s just because he doesn’t smile around me or if he doesn’t smile in general. “Change of plans. You wash up and I’ll make dinner.”