7. Layla
layla
. . .
Itug at the hem of my yellow tube top, the fabric fitting snug against my skin, while my baggy, ripped jeans hang loose on my hips.
Sandals softly slap against the wood floors as I walk.
My gold hoops catch the light, and layered necklaces gently twinkle against my chest. My hair falls in loose waves down my back, with the ends tickling past my shoulder blades.
Reed’s already waiting by the door, dressed like only he can pull off—dark jeans, scuffed boots, and a flannel in muted navy that strains across his broad shoulders. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, revealing scarred skin and tattoos that wind up from beneath the fabric.
My gaze travels across his jawline, up to his trim beard and devastating mustache, until it reaches his dark, tousled hair. When he looks up at me with those steady green eyes, something sharp stirs in my chest.
It’s then that I notice the dog tags hanging from a chain at his neck, half-hidden beneath the flannel.
“Reed,” I murmur, stepping closer, my gaze snagging on the metal catching the light. “Are those yours?”
He stiffens instantly as his eyes dart to mine. For a split second, I see a glimpse of hurt, raw, and anxiousness flicker across his face before he pushes it away.
My stomach twists as I open my mouth, then close it again.
Words choke in my throat. I shouldn’t have freaking asked.
God, Layla, why can’t you shut up sometimes?
He doesn’t answer or explain. He looks at me for a heartbeat longer before pressing the helmet into my hands, and this time a leather jacket.
“Let’s get to work, Layla.”
I swallow hard, forcing a smile even as my chest burns. “Right. Let’s go.”
Throwing on the jacket and sliding the helmet on, I push the panic down where it can’t show.
He moves past me, the weight of him so solid, so steady, as he straddles the motorcycle. The bike roars to life, the sound filling the quiet afternoon.
I climb on behind him, my arms wrapping instinctively around his waist. The world narrows to the thrum of the engine beneath us, the press of him against me, and the endless hum of tension I can’t seem to shake.
He pulls out of the driveway, gravel spitting under the tires, and we head toward Boots they seep into the building’s bones, becoming part of it.
My throat tightens. This is exactly why I came. Places like this, gritty, alive, imperfect, are the ones that stick and mean something.
I turn, about to speak, and catch Reed watching me.
He hasn’t moved from his motorcycle, his hand resting on the handlebar while the other tugs off his gloves. His eyes follow me, unblinking, as if he’s memorizing my every reaction.
The weight of his gaze pins me in place.
I force a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s even better in the daylight.”
His jaw tightens, the faintest movement as if there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t trust himself to. Finally, he nods once, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. It is.”
The quiet stretches between us, feeling heavy but not uncomfortable, thick with something I can’t quite name. My chest tightens with it—his silence, my noise, the way I keep trying to close the distance between us.
He slips the keys from his pocket, the jingle sharp in the stillness. He pushes the heavy door open, the wood groaning in protest.
The air inside is cool, shadowy, thick with layered scents of whiskey, wood polish, and faint cigarette smoke sinking into the beams. Sunlight streams through the wide front windows, catching dust that floats lazily, casting golden streaks across the tables and bar top.
I step inside and stop, my sandals squeaking softly on the wood floor.
It feels so different without the crowd. Without Catalina shrieking greetings, without Maverick’s booming laugh, without Carter scowling at anyone who looks at her. The silence is heavy but not empty. It’s… sacred. Boots local names, ranch references. People eat that up.”
I look up, grinning at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Reed, you have no idea how much gold you’re sitting on here.”
His mouth curves; small, fleeting, but genuine. For a moment, I forget how to breathe.