Page 20 of Layla Meets Her Match

“Everything okay? You zoned out a bit. Did Margot keep you up in the new place? She’s probably going to take a second to adjust.”

I wave it away, his excuses just increasing the blush. Thankfully, it’s dim in the car, and maybe he can’t see it. “Um, she was fine.” I shrug. I can’t think of another explanation, so hopefully Lincoln just lets it go.

“What about you? Do you have any free time?” he asks. I think this must be what he asked before and I didn’t hear him while I was—I put a stop to even thinking about what I was doing and repeating any of those images.

“A little. But right now, I’m kind of lame too. I like to watch old sitcoms and figure out what works with them, you know? What makes people laugh and what’s just awkward without a laugh track. I have a notebook full of notes about stuff.” Except for that one episode of Friends I watched the other day, it’s been a few weeks since I was able to watch those shows. Every spare minute I can, I’ve been making videos for my clients, and the last couple weeks I’ve been getting ready to move.

“Does that make you miss acting?” Lincoln asks, turning to glance at me for a moment.

The heat rises in my face again as I remember telling Lincoln last night about making the videos and how he was so genuine in trying to support my little bit of acting. That same genuineness tugs at his expression now.

“Yeah.” I chuckle to myself, thinking of the way I’ve reenacted scenes to my little audience of Margot, getting timing down, practicing the rhythm of my words and my tone.

He shakes his head. “You deserve to be as famous as him. More famous than him.” There’s a growl to Lincoln’s voice that has my stomach flipping over. He’s obviously loyal. The way he came straight to Mila about the cookies that made his friends sick, and how he must have convinced them to protect her—that says so much. I mean, the man comes to her bakery truck every day no matter where it’s parked. He’s dedicated to her truck being a success. Maybe that’s at the urging of Eli, but he wouldn’t ask someone to come every day.

The idea that he’s moved that same loyalty into our friendship is a little bit exhilarating. And it’s going to make me want more if I’m not careful. I remind myself that I have a strict no-dating policy, and it’s not a good idea to fall for a guy like Lincoln. Famous football player? That’s way too close to my last crash and burn for me to be comfortable even entertaining the idea. He could get traded to another team, take a bigger contract, and flit away to a new life just as easily as The Badfather.

“I agree,” I say, making my own voice light so I don’t examine Lincoln’s motives any closer. “Maybe someday.” I shrug at him.

We pull up to the restaurant, and Lincoln parks at the valet station, coming around to get my door before the valet can. He hands over his keys and then slips his hand on my back again, gently guiding me to the door of the restaurant.

I know how to act like I’m the stunning girlfriend of a power player who confidently strides into a restaurant with a valet station, but I’ve never done this in real life. It makes me a little bit giddy, like it’s a part I’m playing.

As we approach the hostess’s stand, I catch a glimpse of someone at one of the nearby tables snapping a picture with their phone. As the hostess leads us to our table, where we’re told Zane Dalton and Astrid are already waiting, I lean into Lincoln. I know that’s what anyone watching us wants to see, but I also don’t want anyone to overhear me.

“What are you going to say when pictures show up of us together and people think we’re dating?” I whisper. I try not to smile to think about the pictures and the gossip headlines that might accompany them. Like if they used words like, Rays player Lincoln Knight seen with actress Layla Delaford.

I shake that away. No one’s going to know me. I don’t even get mentions as You Know Who’s ex.

Lincoln swallows. “I’ll deny it, of course. Insist we’re just friends.” His gaze darts across my face, his nerves back.

I put a hand on his arm and stop him just before we reach the table. “Linc, I don’t care what gossip sites say about us. I made my peace long ago that if I was going to be an actress, no publicity was bad publicity. It doesn’t matter.” I squeeze his arm to make sure he knows I’m serious.

He relaxes. “I don’t want you thinking I’d use you for publicity or something.”

“I would never think that about you. I know better.” I squeeze his arm again and then move ahead of him to greet Astrid, who hops up as soon as she sees me.

“Layla, you’re here.” She throws her arms around me to hug me, and I hug her back, startled.

“Everything okay?” I whisper. My mom instincts always kick in hard around Astrid though I can’t explain it. Maybe because I see too much of my naivete in her and I want to save her from the stupid mistakes I made. Especially with Jack-in-the-box.

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispers back, and then she pulls away.

Zane stands behind her, and he smiles at me when Astrid steps away. “You must be Layla,” he says. His voice is scratchy, but his grin makes me automatically smile back. I can see why he and Lincoln are friends. He has an air of friendliness about him. “I’m Zane.” He takes my hand in his but then leans down and leaves a light kiss on my cheek. I love it. This poshness is so the vibe I’m going for on my night on the town.

Also, Zane Dalton is possibly the largest human being I’ve ever encountered. Like if a human were the size of a bear. Well, what I imagine a bear’s size must be. Lincoln is tall, but as I step aside and the two shake hands and slap backs, I see that Zane is even taller. Plus, he’s maybe twice as wide. Football players look like one thing on TV, and then in real life it’s a whole other thing. They’re massive, and being around Lincoln hasn’t gotten me used to his size.

Another daydream pops up, unbidden: Lincoln enveloping me in a hug. Heat whooshes through me. It’s so simple, but my insides sizzle at the idea.

We sit down, and conversation moves easily. Well, for me, Lincoln, and Zane. I notice that Astrid is mostly smiling and saying “uh-huh” or “mmmm.” I shoot her a questioning look, but she just shakes her head.

But Zane is very attentive to her. He spends a few minutes asking her about foods she likes before recommending something on the menu that he loves that he thinks she’d enjoy based on what she says. I share a look with Lincoln, silently congratulating him on such a good pick. He returns the look with a small smile.

While we’re waiting on dessert, Astrid stands up and looks at me meaningfully. “Layla, come check out the view from their deck with me.”

I stand up. “We’ll be right back,” I say to Lincoln, and he nods, turning the subject to football for the first time as Astrid and I are walking away.

We step onto the wooden deck that looks out toward the ocean. I’d never heard of this place when Lincoln said he wanted to come, but it’s low-key amazing. They’ve hit all the right LA notes without being over the top. The simple, elegant décor in the restaurant and the prime location where we can hear the waves lapping up on the shore. It’s casual, but it’s not all at the same time, and I love the atmosphere.

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