Page 18 of Coming Up Roses

“The other day, Drake was telling me about your salon, and he mentioned that one of y’all was expecting. I guess I just assumed that Seraphine was . . .” I trail off, noticing the conversation at our table has ceased. Three sets of eyes are trained on us—watching, waiting.

Myla Rose clears her throat. “Pregnant? Well, she isn’t. I am.”

Damnit, damnit, damnit. Promptly, I shake that shit off. I’m not looking for love anyway. Love? What the hell? Where did that come from? Hell, I’m not even looking to date right now. Her sweet voice and big brown eyes have me thinking all sorts of crazy thoughts.

“Well, damn, girl, congrats.” My voice comes out low and scratchy.

“Thank you.” Her response is so quiet I have to strain to hear it.

“Yessir, our girl is gonna have a baby!” Drake sounds downright joyful about it. “Gonna have her shower at my house. You’re welcome to come too, if you want.”

Azalea shoots him a glare so hard, I’m surprised he’s still sitting upright. Myla Rose shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not meeting my eyes. Simon just chuckles.

“Drake, I am planning this shower. Not you. If Myla wants him to come, she will tell me, and I will send him an invitation.” I swear, Azalea has steam coming from her ears. Her temper is on a hair trigger.

“You two need to fuck,” Simon states flatly. That shuts Drake and Azalea right up.

Myla Rose turns those mesmerizing brown eyes my way and says, “I–I’m sure you have better things to do, but you’re welcome to come.”

“I’ll be there. Will your boyfriend be there as well?”

She drops her eyes. That non-answer causes my gut to tighten. After a long pause, she looks back up and says, “No. He won’t be there. He isn’t . . .” She pauses again, as if she’s unsure how to continue. “He decided he wasn’t ready to settle down and be a parent. So, it’s just me and the bean.” She won’t meet my eyes, which is probably a good thing. They’re filled with anger, and my jaw is clenched so damn tight I’m surprised I haven’t cracked my molars. What kind of asshole wouldn’t want to see his baby grow up? Never mind, I know just what kind of asshole—the same kind that raised me.

“Yeah, he’s a total piece of shit,” Simon spouts with a hard edge to his voice. “Thinks he can just go on about his life, ignoring the fact that he has a damn kid.” Simon seems protective of Myla. I wonder if that’s in a friendly way or if it’s something more. I know his dad was an abusive SOB, so maybe that’s it? All I know is that any man who leaves his woman high and dry while she’s carrying his baby isn’t a man in my book.

“I hate that boy. I’d string him up by his damn balls if Myla would let me,” Azalea says, her face red with anger on her friend’s behalf.

“I’d fuckin’ be first in line to help,” Drake growls. Huh, I guess if it matters enough, those two can play nice. Listening to them talk about her ex, I realize that they’re all protective of Myla Rose, which makes me feel a bit better. Not that I have the right to be worried. Myla Rose is a friend. That’s all, and hardly even that. If Simon were interested in her, it wouldn’t be any of my damn business. Nope, not one lick.

My thoughts are interrupted by our server bringing out our food. I notice every one is sharing, so I offer up some nachos to the table, and they readily accept. Conversation trails off as everyone digs in—it’s that damn good. As we’re all finishing up, I take the time to really observe everyone at our table. Simon is doodling on his napkin. Azalea and Drake keep stealing glances at one another, pretending they don’t notice when they get caught. Myla Rose is using the bits of pork left from her tacos to scoop up guacamole.

She lets out a small moan of delight after the last bite and pats her stomach. “Mmm, oh my God, that was so good.” It was innocent enough, but goddamn. That sound.

Friends, Cash. You want to be her friend. Down, boy.

Pregnant or not, Myla Rose is hands down the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid my eyes on, and combine her looks with sounds like the one she just made . . . I have a feeling that I’m going to be constantly reminding myself that she’s just a friend.

After our dishes are cleared, we all pay our tabs and head out to the parking lot. As the guys leave, Azalea pulls Myla Rose aside. I can’t make out all of what they’re saying, only a few words here and there coupled with a lot of hand gestures. “Myla . . . Come on. I . . . candle burning.”

I take a few steps closer to hear them better. “We don’t even have a damn candle, Azalea,” Myla Rose complains.

“Fine, I left my curling iron on. I need to go back, and—” the car next to me roars to life, drowning out the rest of her words.

I stand off to the side, awkwardly, unsure as to whether I should wait. Just as I’m about to turn and go, I see Myla give a sharp nod, and Azalea smiles in what appears to be victory.

They both start walking my way, and Azalea calls out to me. “Cash, would you mind giving Myla Rose a ride home? I was going to, but I need to run back to the salon, and I just hate to drag her back with me. She’s got a full day tomorrow and needs to rest.” Her voice is saccharine sweet—too sweet—and I think I know what’s happening here. We’re being set up.

“Sure thing. I wouldn’t mind one bit.” Azalea beams at my easy cooperation and sends Myla Rose to me with a little nudge.

“Are you sure, Cash?”

“One hundred percent. C’mon.” I take her hand, and there’s that jolt again. I swear, every time we touch, it’s like lightning is running through my veins. I hold her door open for her and help her into the truck despite her insistence that she can do it on her own.

Once she’s buckled, I plug her address into my phone and crank the engine. “Thank you so much for doing this. I don’t know why AzzyJo is actin’ so damn crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure your friend is trying to set us up.” I use our time at the stop sign to gauge her reaction to my words.

She snorts out a laugh and shakes her head. “You may just be right. In which case, she is crazy.”

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