14. Layla
LAYLA
“There’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in the world!”
I smile at Agnes, her arms extended out to me as though she hasn’t seen me in years, when really, it was just this week she was up at the bakery, buying pastries that Doctor Reese would probably throw a fit over.
“Hey, Agnes,” I greet, pulling my small wagon behind me with all the baked goods I brought for her bake sale. “You sure do know how to make a girl feel pretty.”
She steps to the side and eyes the goodies I brought. Her brown-and-gray-peppered hair pulled back loosely in a messy ponytail as her clear blue eyes scan everything.
“Oh, honey, I wasn’t talkin’ about you,” she quips with zero remorse on the misplaced comment—on my part. “I was talkin’ to the sweets and delicious pies ya brought for me to raise enough money for the new church roof.”
My lips fall into a flat line because, of course.
“And replaced,” I mutter as Agnes begins to unload my wagon. “Is this enough? I can bring more—”
“Oh, plenty, Layla,” she beams, examining the lemon dump cake I brought, her favorite. She bites down on her lower lip in thought. “I don’t think I’ll let anyone buy this, though.”
My mouth decides to quirk because: evil little plan incoming.
“Uncle Ben was mentionin’ that,” I fib as I help her unload the wagon. “I think he said he was gonna swing by.”
She shows zero reaction to his possible appearance, but I’m not fooled. Agnes knows that if she shows an ounce of excitement, it would be her name that could be tossed around town over morning coffee tomorrow.
“Your Uncle Ben doesn’t need nothin’,” she lightly scolds, giving me a mini-glare to warn me to stop him from doing so. “He has a niece who can make him anything, whenever he wants.”
“He wants to support the church, of course.”
She sends me another withering look but gently places the cake next to the others and comes back to help with the others. “You doin’ alright, girl?”
“Really good. I’m tryin’ this new bourbon cherry crumble pie that I think will knock the socks off—”
“I mean with Briggs being back in town.”
Why would she ask me that?
It should be Cruz she’s asking me about, not Briggs.
But, just like Agnes, I’m an expert at keeping my cool. I show no sign of distress, continuing on with unloading my wagon as she and I pass each other while placing the desserts on the tables underneath her tent.
Someone at the bonfire snitched.
“Lord,” I remark with a small shake of my head. “I’m about to call my insurance agent to make sure my coverage is up-to-date on the bakery before he burns the whole town down.”
“The boy did have a knack for trouble.”
“Eh, well, with Cruz in town, we should see a little gossip, huh? Your favorite.”
Yeah, okay, I’m not the most subtle.
Nonetheless, we can call an apple an apple here because everyone knows that she and her partner-in-crime, Maebelle, run this town on whispers and hearsay.
Agnes stops mid-step toward the wagon, like she’s completely shocked I’d ever say such a thing, but I don’t stop moving.
It’s just that no one openly calls her out on her spreading of tidbits and how she can make Magnolia Ridge chomp at the bit over a story.
“Ya act like I search for it, honey,” she rebukes lightly, following me with her eyes, as I move things around.
“We definitely have enough characters in town to do that work for you.”
“We do,” she confirms. “But there’s nothin’ like a little love story that’ll have the town buzzin’.”
I make a face. “I’m not datin’ Cruz again.”
Agnes doesn’t miss a damn beat when she returns with, “I wasn’t talkin’ about Cruz, honey.”
Okay, that’s it.
Turning on my heels, I’m ready to squash that idea before Agnes begins talking to Maebelle about it—but, let’s be real here, she probably already did—when another body shows up next to her.
One with perfectly put together wavy brown hair and sharp green eyes.
Almost the same color as my favorite, but not quite as deep, and definitely never on my side.
“Afternoon, ladies,” she beams with a smile so damn big I can never tell if she’s faking or genuinely happy.
Adeline Kerrigan is just another one of Magnolia Ridge’s belles around here. She used to run with Zoe on their mission to become the damn poster child for what every woman here should want to be.
She could never get me on the bandwagon. I was too busy chasing her brother down, and youth group kept me busy at church most of the time. I didn’t have an interest in kissing people’s asses in town and volunteering at every single town event imaginable.
Like the Bluegrass and Porch Jam Night she came up with. I could almost kill her with the idea of everyone pulling out their instruments and having a damn concert in the middle of Town Square.
Dogs howl in pain at the music that comes from that damn night.
“Oh, Adeline, honey.” Agnes beams with a gentle onceover. “How in God’s name do ya always look so darn pretty?”
Oh, for the love of God and everything holy…
Annoyance ripples through me because, c’mon, seriously? I bring this woman the best pies she’s ever had in her life, and they out-trump me in the looks department?
This place is rigged.
“Oh, Agnes, stop,” Adeline coos with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I just threw on whatever my hand touched in the closet.”
K, that’s crap.
And definitely not the truth.
Adeline is a damn Southern goddess. She’s in this beautiful ivory-colored dress that would probably have her on the gossip rack if it weren’t in lace.
The flowy hem reaches mid-thigh, emphasizing her brown cowboy boots that come just below her knees.
Country girl.
With some sexiness that wouldn’t be considered sexy in this town because of the material and the damn boots.
Meanwhile, I feel underdressed around her as always because I literally grabbed the first dress my hand fell on, and it’s just a simple pink floral one that has different patterned squares on it.
Like a quilt.
I look like a damn quilt compared to her.
Shit.
“Layla Jean,” Adeline quips, looking over the dessert tables. “I see you didn’t disappoint, as always.”
Oh, but I have.
Rat.
Adeline and I weren’t the closest of friends growing up; we never ran in the same circles, so to speak, even though this town is less than a thousand people.
However, when she snitched on me with her brother, I’ve never treated her the same after that.
I mean, I get it’s her brother, clearly. However, if she knows the story, she knows her brother. And she’s fully aware our relationship was rough on me, he was never here, and I have and had every right to move on.
Except she sided with him, broke girl code in a way, and acts like she did nothing at all.
However, it’s not lost on me.
It’ll never be lost on me.
“Wish I could say the same,” I deadpan, immediately receiving her attention from my simple clapback, but I don’t allow her a narrative because I add in, “Make sure you buy the toasted coconut for your dad. My uncle will be here shortly and will probably clean it out.”
Adeline holds my stare with an equal amount of nonchalance. It’s not lost on her that I’m not her biggest fan. She’s not an idiot.
“Good idea.” She motions to the dessert table like I’m going to grab it for her when she rocks me to my core with, “Briggs, will you grab a piece and take it to the car?”
My feet absent-mindedly move back and away from her words—his name—when my butt hits a hard barricade, and I already know who I have just bumped into.
Fingers gently grasp my hips, keeping me steady but also pulling me closer to his frame.
Briggs will always find a way to touch me. Even if I give him the perfect opportunity, he will not pass it up.
Even in front of Agnes.
“Well,” she muses on cue, and I have zero doubt she has seen everything that has happened in the last twenty seconds. “If it isn’t the boy who couldn’t decide if he loved the town or wanted to burn it to the ground.”
Briggs doesn’t laugh or come up with something charming to say.
He also doesn’t take his damn hands off me either.
“It definitely has its perks and downfalls,” he replies easily. “How are you, Miss Campbell?”
She smiles at him, like really smiles, and I think Agnes has always liked Briggs.
Actually, I know she does because I can’t remember a time she has ever been this nice to Cruz.
In fact, I believe she was always trying to rid him from her view and personal space.
“Good,” Agnes replies evenly. “Just tryin’ to raise money for a new roof for the church.”
“How holy of you.”
Agnes laughs, and I take that moment to readjust my position and step out of Briggs’s subtle hold.
“Looks like I’m all set here,” I announce to the group, grabbing the handle of my wagon like it’s going to roll me out of here to safety. “Good luck, Agnes.”
“Layla!” Arms wrap around my middle and squeeze me, knocking some of the needed oxygen from my lungs as I’m being held hostage again. “I passed the artisan bread-baking class you sent me.”
Everly.
I turn on my heels to face her, beaming with pride that there is someone else in this town who understands the importance of good bread, when I hear Agnes chime in with her two cents.
“Oh, for the love of God,” she complains. “Can’t we appreciate the wholesomeness of white and wheat?”
“No,” Everly and I reply at the same time as I smile down at her for her accomplishment. “That’s wonderful, Ev. What was your favorite?”
“Definitely the sourdough and ciabatta, but honestly, the pane toscano started growin’ on me.”
“That’s how I felt with focaccia. I remember arguin’ with a ciabatta at four in the morning to hold its shape.”
“Ugh,” Everly grumbles out. “I know. But so good.”
“Definitely.”
We both notice the silence surrounding us immediately because Everly and I both glance over to find Agnes and Adeline staring at us like we’re both from another planet.
Not all of us pick the alleged first dress out of our closet.
We like bread.
Sue us.
“I’m gonna have to try some of that,” Adeline forces herself to fill in politely when Everly and I both know she has zero interest in sharing our baking stories or tasting anything.
She has more interest in selling me out and what insanely annoying town event she can come up with.
“Right,” Everly quickly dismisses, then returns her attention to me. “Are you stayin’ for the Summer Festival? A few friends of mine have new games at the gaming tent and—”
“I wish I could,” I fib again because there is just zero way I can stand here and be around Briggs. Even though I haven’t looked at him yet, nor acknowledged his existence. “But I’m havin’ dinner with my Uncle Ben.”
“At seven, right?” Adeline chimes in and, my God, does she want me to strangle her today with my bare hands?
“Right,” I drone. “Weird that you’d know that, Adeline.”
“You do it every year.”
Whatever.
“I’m flattered,” I lie. “Love how you know everything about me, where I’m at, and what I’m doin’.”
Her green eyes glimmer with an obnoxious gleam that only confirms she doesn’t care and that she’s going to keep doing it.
I should tell Agnes she’s gunning for her job.
“Hang out with me,” Everly begs with a tiny tug on my dress. “We haven’t talked for a while, and I want to ask you about my next classes.”
God, girl, I would if you didn’t have such annoying company.
Everly is the only Kerrigan I can stand right now.
“We can do lunch,” I suggest. “I have to get my stuff back before I go to dinner—”
“I’ll keep your wagon safe,” Agnes suggests, clearly taking every excuse I have right underneath me. “Go have some fun, honey.”
Why does this town suddenly hate me?
Agnes claims my handle, physically stripping away my getaway, and I’m trapped.
Man, this is one of those times where Uncle Ben’s appearance would be perfect here.
I need a bat signal.
Everly squeals a little in excitement, stepping away and glancing at the body behind me.
“Briggs, you can win Layla Jean that pink teddy bear you saw.”
He doesn’t respond right away, making my body still on bated anticipation of what he’s going to do or say.
I can’t think of another excuse quick enough. My brain is shutting down and trying to operate on an emergency system of when to take breaths, how to settle myself into not having a nervous breakdown with having to spend time with Briggs, but thankfully, with his sister.
“Absolutely,” he finally divulges in this deep, husky tone he does when he’s contemplating something that’s probably going to make me melt at his feet. Been there, done that. “I can definitely keep Layla Jean entertained before dinner.”
Why does that sound like he’s going to find a corner and maul me in it?
Because he will.
He has.
And I loved every second of it.