Chapter 23 #2
“She does seem to get absurdly excited about the weather,” I murmur.
Jax’s wife beams whenever she has an opportunity to talk about the weather.
It’s oddly cute. I’m sure at some point in my career, I was able to talk about baseball with excitement and happiness.
Honestly, even looking back to my last few years in Bridge Point, I’m not sure when that childlike excitement went away.
I still love baseball. But I used to be shocked to get paid to do what I loved.
Now it’s more of a job than a privilege.
Without thought, I blurt out, “Do you think I should retire?”
Layla turns to me, studying me for a moment, before finally speaking. “Do you want to retire?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I think maybe mentally I do. I know tons of guys are forced to retire because of injury or the wear and tear this career puts on our bodies. I’ve been incredibly lucky. But sometimes I wake up and lament the fact that I have to go to work.”
“I think that’s normal for any job,” she comments. “I certainly have days where I have no desire to work with you guys.”
Chuckling, I squeeze my arm around her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Please. You love dealing with me. You probably get off on antagonizing me.”
Layla giggles softly. “It has been fun watching steam come out of your ears every time I’ve called you Sunshine.”
I rest my head against the back of the couch, reaching up to drag my left hand through my hair. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
I take a deep breath. “I really like when you call me Sunshine. I’ve never had someone call me a name other than babe before. Babe seems so vague and impersonal. Sunshine is unique, and shows you actually know me a little. It’s why I call you Peaches.”
“And to get on my nerves,” she retorts.
I smirk. “I know you like it, Lay. Don’t even lie.”
She sighs. “I didn’t … at first. And I agree with you on babe. It’s a dime a dozen. Anyone can be called babe. I have girlfriends who call anyone and everyone babe. But the couple of times you’ve called me baby … I really liked that. It’s sweeter. More romantic. Has more meaning behind the word.”
“Have you ever had a man call you something like this before?” I ask quietly.
I don’t want to ask about her previous relationships, but I feel like I have to know.
I want to know everything about this woman.
Dropping my hand from my hair, I slip it along her arm until I reach her hand.
She intertwines our fingers without pause.
“I had a guy call me babe, and I hated it. He always seemed to whine the word. Baaaaabe,” she says, mimicking the man.
“But baaaabe … God. It was awful. It was probably the most petty reason I broke up with someone for. I couldn’t stand his voice, though, and the thought of suffering through it for the rest of my life was enough to make me end it. ”
Layla releases my hand, but begins to lightly stroke my fingers.
Her gaze is locked on the storm outside as it comes closer.
We can hear the thunder more, especially when Marilyn and Muriel aren’t zooming past the couch in their balls.
Those balls on hard flooring are actually louder than I would have thought.
“I ended a date early because the woman laughed like a hyena,” I confess. “The sound reverberated across the entire restaurant. It takes a lot for me to be embarrassed about something, but that was enough. I didn’t think we were that compatible anyway, so it was an easy thing to do.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” Layla says with a breathy laugh. “Frankly, life is too short to waste time on people who don’t make me happy or fill my cup. I don’t have to settle for someone who irritates me, as much as my mom would love to see me married and popping out babies.”
“You’re close with your mom?” I ask, closing my eyes as Layla continues to lightly drag her nails over my skin.
“I am. She’d have preferred if I stayed closer to her, but I try to make time to get home whenever I can. It was easier when I was in Atlanta, though.”
“Where does she live?”
“In South Florida. I was raised in South Carolina, and after my dad died, and I’d graduated from high school, we moved.”
Shit. Did I know that her dad died? Remembering the brief comment she made months ago, I nod. “How did he die?”
“Cancer.”
“Damn. I’m sorry, Lay. Is that why you told me to call my parents?” She nods, and I rest my forehead against her hair. “Were you close with him?”
“He was sick for so many years that our lives revolved around it. It took me a bit to fully comprehend how sick he really was. Kids are naturally self-involved, so it was hard for me to truly see how much he struggled. I think when he died, I was mostly relieved he was pain-free. No more chemo. No radiation. No hospital stays or IV ports. He was finally free. And at fifteen, I could see it. I could celebrate that fact. My dad was finally cancer-free.”
“Wow,” I murmur. “That’s incredibly mature of you at fifteen.”
She shrugs. “I like to think I’ve always been able to see the big picture of things.
Maybe I couldn’t at ten, when I had to miss a sleepover because we were traveling for an appointment with a specialist, but at fifteen, I finally recognized the pain he was in.
Life on Earth was hurting him. I was holding his hand when he took his last breath, and he smiled.
I saw the relief on his face. I miss him every day, and occasionally catch myself thinking of him like he’s still alive.
But I’d rather he be dead than half alive and miserable. ”
Just when I think I have Layla figured out, she surprises me once again. Reaching over, I link my hands together and pull her into my lap. Burying my head in her hair, I breathe her in. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”
Layla turns her head slightly, resting it against mine. “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”
Lightning illuminates the sky, and the moment a loud crash of thunder booms around the space, the electricity flickers before going out completely.
“The fireplace still works,” Layla comments.
“It’s gas.”
“But you flipped a switch to get it to turn on.”
“The pilot light is on all the time, so it’ll still work. At least for a bit. We lost power this winter during that crazy blizzard around New Year’s, and the fireplace turned off a few hours into the outage. I guess if it’s widespread enough, the natural gas will run out eventually.”
“We should get the girls back into their cage,” Layla murmurs, but she snuggles deeper into my arms. “But that would involve getting up, and you feel too good for me to move.”
Her words, however innocent she intended them to be, strike a different chord in my body, and my cock twitches in my joggers. The vixen in my arms shimmies, stifling a delighted giggle when my dick responds by growing quickly. “Layla.”
“What?” she asks innocently.
I chuckle into her hair, making her shiver. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”
“I have a feeling that you’re the kind of guy who would give me anything I ask for, Max,” she says quietly.
“What exactly do you want?” I ask gruffly, unhooking my hands to grab her hips.
She shimmies again, and I help move her along my length.
The wind whips through the open door as lightning streaks through the sky.
I feel keyed up, turned on, and desperate for her, and just like she said, I’ll do anything she asks, right here, right now.
Layla abruptly stands, turns, then straddles me. Her eyes sear into mine. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. Don’t hold back, Sunshine.”
Fucking hell.