Chapter Four
Layla wasn’t quite sure why she was saying so much.
Then again . . .
Maybe she did know why.
Everything she’d said about Avery previously seemed to be true. She’d always been an excellent judge of character and had learned how to read people at an early age. Something that was inherent, but which had also been honed by her daddy’s insights, mostly centered around the people who came and went from the farm. Typically strong, earnest workers. But there’d been some shady characters from time to time. Layla could recognize shifty eyes and smooth lines—even hitches of breath when a lie wasn’t rolling off the tongue as easily as one thought it might.
There were other traits to look out for. Body language. Fidgeting. Trying too hard to sell a story.
She’d not had any of these things in mind when she’d fallen down a dangerous rabbit hole in New York. One she shouldn’t have been teetering on the ledge of to begin with, but sometimes ambition could be a blinding temptation. And she’d been lured by it.
Eventually, she’d come to her senses and had heeded the perils. Had attempted to coax the party doing wrong to right their axis. That was when the trouble had started.
Avery said, “I have no cause to hurt anyone.”
In her heart, she believed him. Deep in her soul, really.
She swept a lock of dark hair from his forehead and said, “I didn’t need that affirmation from you. Not sure why I posed the question. Maybe just because ... it’s natural due diligence on my part.”
“Don’t go second-guessing anything about me, Layla. I am the epitome of ‘what ya see is what ya get.’”
She smiled. “That’s what I figured. I suppose I just needed to hear your answer.”
His gorgeous blue eyes clouded. Squinted with scrutiny. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
She searched her feelings for an absolute truth, so that she could put some closure on this conversation she didn’t want to have. Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow as she said, “Not at all. I like you, Avery. I told you I thought you were the real deal. And I meant it.”
“I just want you to be sure—”
“Kiss me, cowboy. And then decide whether you want to keep talking.”
His cloudy irises cleared.
No. They flared with heat.
“I could do the kissin’ thing all night,” he admitted.
“Well, you are my ride back into town, so that makes me your captive audience of one.”
“Sun hasn’t even set yet. That gives me all the time in the world to win you over.”
“Thought we established that you already have.”
“Well, I like to be thorough.”
As evidenced by the scorching lip-lock he delivered.
His tongue delved deep and with such finesse, she forgot all about their brief interruption. Sure, it was prudent for Layla to be cautious. One thousand percent. But reinventing herself had also reset herself. So that she wasn’t swayed by “shiny objects” dangled before her like a carrot, and instead had returned to and remained grounded in the values her daddy had taught her.
And by the way Avery kissed her, she didn’t have much difficulty leaving her broken everything behind her for the evening.
His hand was still between her legs, and it drifted over her thong. Lightly, so that she wondered if she’d imagined the faint touch, she was so desperate for it. But then he rubbed her through the lace, a soft caress that teased her.
She buried her fingers in his hair, and her spine bowed again, so her nipples brushed against his hot skin and hard muscles.
He swept aside the material, baring her, and massaged her dewy folds. A moan rose within her throat but had nowhere to go with his mouth sealed to hers.
He circled her clit, and that incited more sparks. Then he eased a finger inside her, stroking her until she was dripping wet, and he could work in a second finger.
Darkly erotic sensations swelled and threatened to burst wide open at any moment.
All it took was the strumming of his fingertips against that magical spot within her and suddenly—
All those sensations collided and erupted.
She broke their kiss and cried, “Oh, my God, Avery!”
Her pulse pounded, and her entire existence seemed to incinerate. Lightning quick.
He kissed her temple as tiny orbs flashed behind her lids. Somewhat akin to a cosmic explosion.
She let out what might have been a giggle.
“Didn’t think that was anything to laugh about,” he grumbled.
She glanced at him. “I saw stars, cowboy.”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “Good news, then. That was my goal.”
She pulled his head to hers and kissed him, languidly. Once more getting all wrapped up in how amazing it felt to share this intimacy with him.
He withdrew his fingers from her and palmed her breast, kneading with a hint of pressure.
Dragging his mouth from hers, he flitted his tongue over her nipple, then suckled.
A small whimper fell from her lips.
“That’s more like it,” he whispered.
Then he shifted and peeled off the scant bit of lace that was in his way. He stood and toed off his boots. Shucked his clothing.
Allof his clothing.
Layla drew in a rasping breath. “Oh, my.”
He snickered. “As good a view as the other scenery on this ranch?”
“Words fail me.”
“Toying with me now, honey?”
His roguish grin made her stomach flip.
“No, I’m being serious.”
He reached for the handle on the nightstand drawer, pulled out a box of condoms, and then glowered—at the box.
“I’m going from bad to worse,” he lamented.
“How so?”
“I can’t remember when I bought these, and the package isn’t even open.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. Then tried to keep the humor from her voice as she asked, “Should we check the expiration date?”
“Indeed, we should.” He shook his head. “This is embarrassin’.” He inspected the box and then turned more optimistic. “Oh, well. We’re in luck.”
She laughed. “Now I’m the one who’s flattered. I think.”
“Nice to know I’m still in your good graces.”
“And not merely one of a stable full of women waiting on their chance with you?”
“If there are even just a couple,” he said as he yanked open an end and extracted a half strip, “I haven’t noticed.”
“As I said ... there were plenty of eyes on you today.”
“I was only interested in yours. Stunning as they are.”
He tossed aside the outer package and opened one foil packet.
“Now would be the best time to back out, darlin’.”
She crooked her index finger at him. Gave what she hoped was a come-hither look, and told him, “More of you is what I’m interested in.”
“Can’t argue with that.” He sheathed himself and returned to the bed. He pulled her to him and added, “Seems I’ve won the lottery.”
“Don’t get me started again on what you could win, Avery Reed.”
“We did agree to no more talking.”
“Unless it’s of the dirty variety.”
“That I can happily manage.”
An electric current thrummed through her veins. “I don’t doubt it.”
He settled on his back with her straddling him. His hands clasped her hips, and he held her steady as she splayed her palms over his abs. The man was a chiseled-to-perfection hunk of virility, and she took a few seconds to admire the visual, let it burn straight to her core.
Her heart rate quickened. She had the desire to leave feathery kisses over every inch of him. But the need to feel him inside her superseded everything else.
Her hand skated downward. She curled her fingers around his wide shaft and guided him just so, the head of his cock nudging her opening, then penetrating just enough to taunt her. And make her gasp.
His jaw worked. His chest heaved.
“Goddamn, you’re tight,” he murmured.
“And so wet for you.”
He kept her in place for several suspended seconds, not allowing her to take more of him just yet. As though he was the one who required adjusting to the feel of her.
Raw intensity exuded from him and called to something primal within her, strengthening their connection. She hadn’t been seduced this time. She’d set her sights on Avery Reed. No denying it.
She sank farther onto him, her inner muscles clenching and releasing, eliciting a carnal groan from him.
Her hips undulated, and he loosened his grip, moving with her.
Their gazes held, their breaths escalating in time with each other.
He was thick and throbbing within her, creating a scintillating hint of friction as he filled and stretched her.
“Jesus, Avery,” she said on a sliver of air. “You feel incredible.”
“I want you to feel all of me.” His hands slipped to her ass, and he pressed her down onto him, as his pelvis lifted, so that she took him deeper.
She moaned. “Oh, God . . .”
Her skin tingled, and her breaths turned to mere wisps.
“That’s it, darlin’. Ride me slow and easy.”
She didn’t have much choice, sensing anything else would have them both out of control in a heartbeat. Not to mention, their pace was sexy and seductive, drawing her into an unfamiliar world of dark pleasures. And she wanted to stay here a while.
Her hands slid over his pecs as she lowered herself to him, her nipples grazing his hot skin.
She gave him a flirty kiss, then said, “A girl could get used to this.”
He chuckled, though it was strained. “I’d like to tell you we’re gonna go on and on this first time, but you’re testing my restraint and stamina.”
“We just got started . . .”
“Yeah, but goddamn ... you’re squeezing my cock, and it’s making me half out of my mind.”
“That I can’t control,” she told him. “And you can take full credit.”
“Like me deep in your pussy, do you?”
Her insides ignited.
She clenched a bit more fiercely and felt the tension that seized him.
“So much for slow and easy?” she quipped as she sat up again, bracing herself against his rib cage.
His palms glided up her sides, and he cupped her breasts, caressing with a scintillating amount of pressure. Enough to heighten her arousal, which already seemed to be off the charts with the sizzle arcing between them.
His hips bucked in a more assertive tempo that had feathery sighs falling from her lips. She matched his pace, but suddenly it just didn’t seem to be enough.
“Avery ...” Lust blazed through her.
He kissed her, and that only intensified her cravings, adding fuel to the fire.
“Like that,” she whispered. “Oh, my God, just like that.”
He pumped into her. Stroking that ultrasensitive spot, making her more and more crazed for him.
She was instantly addicted to the flash of heat and the vibrations that lit her nerve endings and pulled every fiber of her being taut. There was a breaking point coming. Absolutely. Just ... not yet.
He kissed her once more. She repositioned her hands, clutching his shoulders at the rise of his traps, her fingers curving in as she pressed her upper body to his.
“I can’t take much more of this,” he ground out.
Suddenly, he sat up, one arm twining around her. He maneuvered onto his hip, and that gave him leverage to shift into a faster cadence that led straight to a crescendo for her.
Without any warning, those tenuous threads snapped, and she called his name.
“Oh, my God,” she panted. “Oh, my fucking God.”
Tremors rocked her.
Avery wasn’t done.
He carefully flopped her onto the mattress and draped her thigh over the small of his back. He palmed a cheek again, angling her just so, and drove into her, with confident strokes.
She dug her nails into his side, while the other hand tangled in his hair.
“Yes ...,” she murmured, opening further to him, drowning in the bliss. “Right there, Avery. Right there.”
All the sensations blossomed. She could barely catch her breath, and her hips gyrated in a demanding rhythm, having no idea where she came up with it, but Avery matched her.
The next fiery wave crested, and she shattered. “Oh, Jesus!”
“Yeah, that’s it. Squeeze me tight, Layla.”
She did, milking his cock.
“Keep doing that, darlin’,” he said in a gruff tone. “Just keep doing that.”
She couldn’t stop if she tried. Something feral took over, and she wasn’t inclined to curb it. She wanted more. So much more.
She continued to wriggle beneath him, clutching and then releasing him.
“Goddamn,” he whispered as his body tensed, every muscle turning rigid. “Fuck ...”
He pumped a bit harder.
Seconds later, his sturdy frame convulsed—as though she could have brought him to his knees, had he been standing.
“Holy Christ,” he said on a near growl.
Then he surged inside her, his hips jerking, his cock still stroking.
Heat and exhilaration ribboned together, twining with his climax echoing within her. And then—
“Avery ...” The only word she got out before another orgasm burned through her. “Oh, God, that is so ... hot.”
Liquifying her until she was limp and boneless.
And deliriously happy.
“Greedy of you, baby,” he teased. His face was buried in her hair, and his lips brushed the crook of her neck. “But I’m willin’ to give you whatever you want.”
She’d slayed this beast of a man. This magnetic force that possessed talent and charm ... and a humble nature.
Oh, but good Lord, did he have plenty to be arrogant about!
He roused himself with a soft grunt and notable difficulty—enough to cause another laugh to escape her.
“Were you planning to take a nap, cowboy?” she asked.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind staying in this very position for the rest of the night.”
Her heart melted.
He planted his hands on either side of her shoulders and hauled himself up, though he still lingered close.
Avery gazed down at her. “You just might be the holy grail, honey.”
“Ha, ha.” She swatted at him, liking this mischievous side of him as much as the broody one. “Not a chance.”
“Says you.” He shook his head, then seemed to force himself to withdraw from her and move away.
As though it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he told her.
“Okay if I join you?”
“Don’t go expecting me to be a gentleman and keep my hands off you,” he warned with a wicked glint in his eyes.
“I’d be disappointed if you kept your hands off me, cowboy.”
He reached for one of hers and tugged, helping her from the tall bed. She snatched the strand of condoms from the nightstand and set them on a stool in his nicely appointed bathroom.
While he rid himself of the condom he was wearing and then turned on the water that fell from an overhead rain feature, she collected fresh towels and a washcloth from a slim cabinet with frosted glass doors. She removed the clips from her hair and entered the spacious corner shower. Two wire racks mounted one on top of the other held glass containers of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes, in various scents.
She turned a mockingly suspicious eye on him and asked, “Sure you’re not married?”
He chuckled. “Aw, honey. When would I have the time to be?”
She couldn’t argue with that logic. Knowing he must have a hectic schedule. She did as well. Even when she wasn’t in a different city every week for filming, she was always on the go, scouting talent and searching for inspiration for her next season. Forever praying there would be a next season. This particular platform was an obsession of hers, due to its free-flowing format and the control she had over the subject matter.
Also, losing her job would mean having to find another one, which would mean trying to land an interview with an incomplete résumé. She’d only been Layla Jenson for five years. So, no prior work experience and no college or high school degree could be listed or verified. And she wasn’t inclined to show anyone the document proving her legal name change from Tess Billings—or hand over her Social Security card.
With the online system this crew used, she entered her own information and got paid via electronic transfer. The fewer people who could connect dots, the better.
She’d been able to get her foot in the door with this project because she’d come across a YouTube docuseries by a fellow film student from NYU with a new home base here in Texas. Todd Holden had been a trusted friend of hers in college. Also, someone she’d helped out in a bind he’d not wanted anyone to know about, and Layla had kept his secret while they’d rectified the situation.
Though she wasn’t anyone to lord something over another person, she knew he was grateful and would reciprocate if she reached out to him.
Now, she needed Todd and his people to continue with these episodes.
In a roundabout way, all of this made it imperative that Avery became a contestant. While also making it precarious that she was in this compromising position with him.
Impossible not to be.
Her gaze roved his body, and all the tingles returned. Like that.
Maybe they’d never dissipated.
Her insides lit up as he moved in close to kiss her.
A fleeting one because she pulled away—before they got carried away—saying, “I have to get this makeup off, or I’ll turn into a melting clown face.”
“Can’t see the point of you needing it at all,” he commented.
That was a prickly topic, so she skipped over it and said, “Give me a minute.”
She selected a facial wash from a rack and squirted it onto her damp cloth. She gently scrubbed while Avery opted for a gel and soaped himself up.
“You really should let me do the honors,” she said after rinsing off the silken foam and letting her hair run clean of product.
“I’m ready to lather you up.” He filled his palm with the body wash that matched her choice of herbal scents and rubbed his hands together. “So, yeah ... I’m not capable of not touching you.”
“Am I complaining?”
She turned from him to wring out the cloth and hang it on a hook at the end of a rack. He stepped behind her and glided the luxurious suds over her hips and into the dip of her waist. His front grazed her back, and she wiggled against him.
“That’ll lead to all sorts of chaos,” he murmured.
“Hence me coming in here prepared.”
“Speaking of things that are about to come ...” His hands swept up to her breasts and kneaded them as he nipped at her neck.
That had her anticipation mounting, and she kept grinding against him.
“You get me all fired up,” he whispered. As evidenced by the thickening of his cock.
Excitement skittered through her. Yet she wasn’t ready to abandon the sliding of slippery skin on skin. His mouth wreaking havoc on the side of her throat. His fingers and thumbs pinching and rolling her nipples, beading them. Sending sparks to the heart of her.
She reached behind her to grip his hips as the water sluiced over them, clearing away the bubbles.
Eventually, she turned in his arms and said, “Now that you’re sufficiently recovered ...”
“Told you it wouldn’t take long.”
He shut off the valve and opened the doors, grabbing up the towels. He passed one to her that she wound around her body. He slung the other one low on his hips. Gave her the third one for her hair. She rubbed her crown and then the strands, which immediately began to curl as she patted her face dry.
When she glanced up at him, he seemed to be debating over the appropriate thing to say. Finally settling on, “You steal my breath, darlin’.”
Her eyes misted. Her heart stammered.
He grinned. “Just so you know.”
Layla couldn’t speak for a moment or two.
First, she was astounded by how easily he complimented her, how sincerely. How it wasn’t difficult at all for him to lay out his cards, not holding any aces up his sleeve. Not that he was wearing any. Point being ... he was true to his word about not engaging in games.
Second . . .
Well, that was a more complicated component to dissect. Layla couldn’t help but wonder whether Avery Reed would be so enthralled with her if she didn’t look the way she did now.
Yes, she wanted to believe they’d still feel that kismet-type connection that had struck like lightning when they’d first met. Something she hoped ran more than skin deep, was more instinctive in nature.
What had her stumbling was that she didn’t want Avery to make this attraction about physical appeal. At the same time ... she did.
And that brought on the trouble of trying to maintain a balance between honest reflections versus hypocrisy. Wasn’t she reacting to his overall appearance too?
Yes, she was.
Though she did remind herself that she was entrenched in something more significant—her primary focal point was on his skills and abilities, and his personal interactions. Mainly with her, sure. But she didn’t dismiss how he’d put huge effort into helping to make Jack’s bash a success. Or how he was concerned for Brodi’s well-being and had escorted her to a bus. And, certainly, how he was ever vigilant with Layla in all capacities. He kept his eye on her. He kept her close. He touched her mindfully. Sensuously, yet with respect.
With passion too. That was not to be overlooked.
She didn’t have a full summation of all she was trying to capture here. And perhaps she was premature in wanting to wrap these notions up in a tidy package.
The two of them weren’t a match made in heaven, after all.
Not with their life trajectories shooting off in opposite directions.
So she tabled the entire jumbled discourse happening in her brain, rested a hand on the sexy cowboy’s abs, gazed up at him, and said, “You look like a man who could use a bit more relief.”
She spared a glance at the bulge the plush white material could not conceal.
He laughed, albeit strained. And told her, “You do tend to get me all twisted up, darlin’.”
She whisked away his towel. “Let’s see what I can do about that.”
“Why don’t we see what sort of gratification we can both get.”
He nabbed the strip of condoms. Then gave her a scorching kiss.
His arms twined around her, and he lifted her, walking them toward the double vanity. He hoisted her higher and set her on the granite countertop. Pulled her towel away.
He kissed her ardently while she clutched his biceps. Got lost in his intensity.
Within seconds, he was pressing into her.
She gasped. Rocked back on her ass to tilt her pelvis. Raised her legs and anchored him to her with her feet at his tailbone. Her head fell on her shoulders, and he kissed her neck, his teeth gently scraping, his tongue soothing, his mouth suckling.
“You get me wet,” she whispered. “So fast.”
“Happy to oblige any cravings you have.”
“You’re doing fine with that. Trust me.”
“Just so you know ... Jesus ...” His breaths turned razory. “I can hardly keep my shit together with you.”
“Stamina’s not the objective here,” she told him. “Your recovery time is stellar. So ... multiple orgasms on both sides are something to strive for.”
“And I’m willing to deliver.”
He slipped his forearms under the backside of her knees, spreading her legs wide. She braced herself with her palms against the vanity, keeping herself poised for more. Which he gave her. He pumped into her, making her pussy contract around his shaft.
“Take what you want from me,” he murmured. “All of it.”
Her lids drifted closed and she gave herself over to the feel of him pushing deep. The frenetic energy coursing between them. The insistent stroking that had them both racing toward an erratic, mind-blowing completion. Knowing they’d start up again soon thereafter.
The thought of an entire night with Avery Reed sent her soaring higher. Until the tether with reality broke free, and she caved to the fantasy they were weaving. And fell to pieces under his spell. Again.
He was right behind her.
The throbbing of his cock had her inching toward that finale he’d given her last time, where the sensations he prolonged mixed with the overall thought of him and rippled through her, eliciting yet another beautiful release.
“That’s just the most amazing finish to a most amazing interlude,” she murmured.
“‘Interlude’?”
“Well, I’d call it a fuck, but ...” Her brow rose.
He nodded. “But that’s not what it was.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
She reveled in the afterglow, not jarred by his question, just whisking her fingers through his damp hair and smiling at him.
Eventually, she told him, “We aren’t on the same plane—I mean the spatial one. Though, also the literal one. I have a flight to Cheyenne tomorrow. I’ll be there for a week. I have three to four more weeks on the road, depending on your decision, which I’m not influencing. I gave you the spiel. It ended there. Ball’s in your court, Avery.”
“That notwithstanding, you do make an excellent point about your itinerary. Mine’s set in stone too.”
They stared at each other.
He added, “I just need you to know that I don’t think of you as simply a one-night—”
“No need to say it.” She brushed her lips over his.
“It’s not something I can easily define.”
“Me either.” She kissed him once more. Then asked, “Do we have to?”
He didn’t seem to have an answer to that. Rather, he cleaned himself up, wrapped his towel around his hips, then scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He set her on the end and peeled back the comforter and sheets that she crawled under.
“What can I get you?” he asked. “Scotch? Bourbon? Water? Or—”
“Water would be great, thanks.”
He crossed to the wet bar and retrieved an individual bottle from the mini fridge to pour into a cut-crystal tumbler. Then he reached for a decanter and splashed two fingers of amber liquid into his own glass. Presumably, the scotch.
She accepted her drink from him. He sipped his, set it on the nightstand, and slid in next to her. Coaxing her to him, so she snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder.
His fingers combed through her hair. He said, “I like the curls.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then something—maybe the honesty growing between them—compelled her to delve into her past. “I started straightening them in college. Wanted to look more ‘refined.’” She sighed. “It worked, to an extent. I even dropped the accent.”
“Not sure I know what all that means.”
“I wanted to be someone else, Avery. Not the demure farm girl. Not the quiet one who cooked and cleaned and blended into the woodwork, with no one taking notice of her.”
“I can’t fathom that.”
“I didn’t look like this back then.”
They both fell silent.
Then he urged, “Tell me more.”
“It’s not a Cinderella story,” she said. Though she reflected on that statement and amended it. “Sort of was for a brief time. And even recently,” she conceded. “I got the YouTube channel in the wake of my personal disaster. I landed within a new sphere of influence—one that’s infinitely more on the up-and-up.”
“Sooo ... what does all that entail?”
This wasn’t a comfortable conversation to have. But she chose to throw him a bone. For numerous reasons. Including the fact that Avery was genuine. She wanted to be as well.
She told him, “I left the farm for NYU. I studied finance, with a minor in broadcasting.”
An unlikely tandem curriculum. But she was fascinated by large fiscal transactions and wanted to interview visionaries with unique start-ups. She’d dreamed of being a corporate spokesperson or a TV personality on a program specializing in economics. Unfortunately, her knowledge and concise, astute delivery weren’t enough to fulfill those aspirations. It wasn’t mentioned in any job description, but “non-pretty people need not apply” was the order of the day if you were to be the “face” of an entity.
A double-edged sword. She hadn’t had the right looks when she was Tess Billings and had a clean slate. Now she possessed the facial features producers wanted, but she couldn’t pursue a bigger gig without answering a lot of questions and filling in blanks she didn’t want to fill in.
As Tess, things had gotten all topsy-turvy when even media internships were out of her grasp. But then someone had rescued her—literally from the bowels. An up-and-coming real estate mogul named Christopher Courtland.
She told Avery, “While I was still in school, I took a part-time job in the research division of a real estate investment firm that was just getting established. I shared a desk with two other employees in a cramped room with six additional people and spent hours upon hours on the internet and the phone, trying to unearth golden nuggets for the powers that be to capitalize on. I had a knack for it. Received promotions and better pay. But I didn’t make it out of that windowless office in the basement.”
Not even for a receptionist position. She’d thrown her hat in the ring and was told that wasn’t her forte, no matter how pleasant and hospitable she was. Once again, it was code for her not having the “right look.”
“By the time I graduated college, I had a list a mile long of leads that had been turned into successful acquisitions. One day, I got a visitor in the small room. A new associate who was extremely aggressive. Young and hungry. He needed backers to build a conglomeration that would secure commercial properties for urban hubs—restaurants, nightclubs, entertainment centers, boutique shops, workshare spaces, et cetera. One-stop, integrated services in sophisticated environments to replace strip malls, spread-out marketplaces, and the like. Building vertically, not horizontally.”
“A more concentrated ‘downtown’?”
“Yes, on major corners, so that if your outdated strips or downtowns were failing, these modern siloed hubs would be your respite.”
“What about living spaces?”
“Phase two was buying up surrounding properties to convert into luxury micro apartments and hotel rooms. The entire premise was focused on independent mini communities.”
Avery continued to stroke her hair. “I guess that’s not a bad idea.”
“No. And yet ... yes. It cuts you off from your larger neighborhood. It’s almost like permanently cohabitating at an all-inclusive resort or on a cruise ship, where you stay within the confines of your plotted existence.”
“Ah, gotcha.” He paused. “But then again ...”
“I know, Avery. You want to equate it to the TRIPLE R, where all your resources are accumulated, and this is where you gather for the better part of your day. And I don’t discount that. I’m just saying that within major city limits, with a populace not all working toward a common goal as y’all do on the ranch, it’s a bit more challenging to achieve.”
“Granted. So what happened?”
This was the very moment her narrative turned dicey.
She said, “The ambitious associate needed someone on his side who could mine—and extract—information and data. Someone who knew the precise questions to ask, for sure. But that person also had to be able to talk with others so that they didn’t come across as interviewing, or researching, or—”
“Spying?”
“I suppose that’s an accurate enough term.”
He harrumphed. “You were the spy.”
Not even a query on his part.
She felt deadweight in her stomach as she confessed, “Without quite knowing it.”
“How’s that possible?” he carefully inquired, so as to not offend her, she assumed.
“Because I was too naive to realize I was being used in that capacity.”
Avery shifted. She rolled onto her back, stretching her arm to deposit her empty glass on the nightstand next to her.
He stared down at her, “I can’t imagine anyone pullin’ the wool over your eyes, darlin’.”
“But they did,” she contended. “And, no, I’m not going to feign full innocence here. I accept culpability. It’s just that ... I didn’t recognize from the onset what my actual role was.”
His brow quirked. He needed more from her.
She said, “I was invited to a swank fundraiser. Met some wheelers and dealers. And just through my typical inquisitive fashion, I gleaned some beneficial information. I passed it on, thinking that if someone had imparted it to me—a virtual nobody—it couldn’t be that proprietary. Perhaps that was why they didn’t censor themselves with me. Because I was a virtual nobody. Who was I going to tell?”
She stared at Avery with a solemn expression.
And added, “I didn’t know what this information might be used for. I shared it in casual conversation with the person who’d sent me to the party—not as a guest but as an infiltrator, I eventually figured out.”
Avery lay back down. Brought her to him again.
The sun was starting to set, and Layla admired the view while they were both propped against a mound of pillows.
Not wanting to miss the subtle display of lavender, pink, and gold that gradually intensified, she waited for some time before she spoke again.
“Turns out,” she said on a sigh, “the majority of intel I collected was pertinent. My reward was gowns, shoes, jewelry ... for other galas.” The shiny objects she’d been seduced by. “People paid more attention to me. I got caught up in being someone. Finally being someone.”
“That’s what you wanted the most?” Avery asked.
She gave a slight nod. “I would say ‘at the time,’ but I’m accepting of the spotlight at present, so I can’t pretend I don’t like some form of notoriety.”
With the anonymity drastic reconstructive surgery afforded her, in a sense, she didn’t have to worry too much about being recognized. Not by Christopher, who’d never looked that closely at her anyway. A man who’d not had any trouble taking out his rage on her when she’d tried to quit the game—and attempted to convince him to do the same.
The additional security of staying on the YouTube platform was that Christopher had never watched a video or channel in that format in his life that she was aware of. Sure, chances existed that he might troll social media to find her. But she convinced herself they were slim. Not impossible, but slim.
Avery said, “Nothing wrong with liking being in front of an audience. Jack supplements ranch finances with his channel.”
“I do enjoy hosting a show. And it is my sole source of income.”
“So now you’re more in control of what your intents and purposes are?”
She grinned, though somewhat shakily. Considering she wasn’t fully out of the woods. However ... “That’s a wise observation. And ... yes. Other than I can’t really blow this opportunity because—”
She stalled out, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. Reel herself in.
“I’m not gonna say more.” She gave him an earnest look. “I offered my pitch to you. I let you know the stakes—not just what’s involved with the competition but that I have to remember my role and not complicate it.”
“Meanin’ no fraternizing if I sign?”
“I have to keep this job, Avery. And again ... we’re not on the same page. I’m somewhere else tomorrow. And somewhere else a week later. Tonight, though ... I’m right here.”
“Enjoying the sunset.”
“It is spectacular.”
They gazed out the tall windows, watching the vivid colors painting the sky deepen as twilight encroached.
Avery said, “Just one more question.”
By his grim tone, she suspected he wanted to know the conclusion to her previous situationship—what Christopher breaking more than her heart meant.
Her insides roiled. She said, “I don’t want you to ask the question I think you want to ask. Best not to know the answer, Avery.”
Her hand splayed over his abs.
She was tucked against him, their legs intertwined.
There was an uncertainty that lingered between them.
More than one.
But for now . . .
They were living in the moment.