Page 9 of Unintentionally Yours

“You’re a culinary cheap date. Noted.”

Finn dug into his own food, content to eat in companionable silence broken only by Layla’s occasional hums of approval. He could get used to this, he realized. Could grow accustomed to sharing meals and trading barbs with her, to making her laugh that uninhibited laugh.

It was a dangerous thought, rife with impossible wants. He shoved it down deep, locking it away.

She’d be gone soon. Back to her real life, her glossy world, and he... He would carry on, just as he always did. Alone.

The word settled like a stone in his stomach, cold and heavy. He pushed away his half-empty bowl, suddenly lacking an appetite.

Across the table, Layla frowned at him, concern creasing her brow. “You okay? You got quiet all of a sudden.”

Finn forced a smile. “Fine. Just tired.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He was tired - bone-deep exhausted in a way that had little to do with physical fatigue.

“Right. Of course.” Layla set down her spoon, guilt flashing across her face. “God, I’m sorry. I barged in here and completely disrupted your night. Your life.”

She had no idea how true that was, Finn thought, pushing to his feet and reaching for her empty bowl. “I’m used to running on odd hours. Hazard of the job.”

Her eyebrows winged up. “The job?”

Damn. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. He picked up their dishes and carried them to the sink.

Layla sat and watched as he cleaned the kitchen with military precision. She knew it was time to leave. But, boy, she didn’t want to. “If you could drive me into town, I’ll be out of your way.”

Finn turned back to her. “You’re not going anywhere tonight.” At her startled look, he gentled his tone. “The storm is expected to get worse tonight. Trees usually come down when it’s this bad, and sometimes the road can wash out. Looks like you’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

“But-” Layla’s pulse kicked up, a dart of excitement mingling with the ever-present thrum of attraction. A reprieve. More time with this fascinating, maddening man.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take the bed tonight? I’ll grab a pillow and crash on the couch.”

Layla frowned, already shaking her head. “What? No. No way. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Finn.”

“You’re not kicking me anywhere. I’m volunteering.”

“But-”

“Layla.” Her name emerged harder than he intended, laced with exasperation and something headier, more potent. “Shut up and say thank you.”

She just stared at him for a beat. Then, her lips quirked, a slow smile blooming across her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Finn turned away to hide his smile, busying himself with rinsing their dishes. “Go on and get some rest. Holler if you need anything.”

He listened to the scrape of her chair and the padding of her feet as she moved to comply. She paused in the entryway to the living room, and Finn tensed, half expecting her to change her mind and insist on taking the couch.

But she just turned and looked at him, her expression soft with something he couldn’t name. “Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m...I’m really glad I ended up here. With you. I don’t know how to thank you. For taking me in, tending to me. I had no right to impose.”

“You’re not an imposition.” His gruff voice brooked no argument. Stormy eyes met hers. “I’m glad you found me.”

Layla’s heart turned over at the raw sincerity in his words. “But you don’t even know me. I could be anyone. Some crazy bride with a trail of crazier bridesmaids on her heels.”

“Are you?” A dark brow arched. “Crazy?”

“No. Maybe.” She released a gusty sigh. “Wouldn’t I have to be a little crazy to run away from my own wedding? From a life that looks perfect on paper?”

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