Page 25 of Layla Meets Her Match

A guy I don’t know rounds the back of the truck just as I step up inside, and I tilt out a moment to watch him.

“That’s the bodyguard I told you about,” Mila says from behind me. “Stand down.”

I relax and adjust Margot on my hip in the high-end sling that was a gift from Court’s aunt Sophie. If I knew where she’d gotten it, I’d give it as many stars as possible. It’s soft and comfy and has grown with Margot in a way that makes it easy for me to do stuff hands free.

By the mess on the counter, Mila has been here a while baking. She dusts off her hands on her apron and then reaches across the counter, snagging a couple pieces of light, fluffy bread. She hands them both to me, and I break off a piece of one slice for Margot before taking a bite of my slice.

Mila bakes such good bread that you don’t even need to slather it in butter to be in absolute heaven.

The line is crazy from the moment I set out the menu board and settle into my stool. I guess denying Mila’s fans her goodies for a few days has whetted some appetites. I don’t see Lincoln among the morning customers, but that doesn’t surprise me. He and Eli will have meetings and walk-throughs before they hop on a flight for New York. He won’t have time to come by today. Besides, since I follow him on Instagram now, I know he was at some Hollywood party last night. There was a selfie of him and Anthony Hurley with an actress in the background that Lincoln’s caption said Hurley has a crush on. I bet it was the kind of party Jack goes to now, and I have a pinch of jealousy, wishing that Lincoln had asked me to go with him.

Then I shake that away too. I’m not actually Actress Layla Delaford. That was another life and a future that won’t happen now. And I’m not Lincoln Knight’s girlfriend either. There’s no reason for him to ask me to hobnob with him at some star-studded party.

Nearly every customer asks if everything is all right with Mila’s personal emergency, the excuse we used on social media to explain closing for a few days. It’s heartwarming to have such loyal customers, and I reassure all of them that things are well.

I’m absorbed in one such conversation when I hear Astrid say brightly from next to me, “Oh, hi, Lincoln!”

My head snaps up and I catch him moving toward her side of the line. He shoots me a reluctant look, maybe because he ended up in Astrid’s line and we can’t chat for a minute like usual. I wave back.

“What can I get for you?” Astrid asks. “I bet you’ve been craving some sugar cookies.”

I glance over and catch Lincoln grimacing a little. Probably not, I think with a snicker. That’s what started this all.

“I saw some cheddar sourdough on the board. I’ll take a loaf of that.”

Astrid’s expression falls—weird. “Of course.”

I’m getting up anyway, so I wave her back down when she moves to get the order, and she pinches her lips together. “This will keep things moving,” I say in a low voice, gesturing to the ever-increasing line that’s halfway down the block right now.

She nods tightly and smiles at Lincoln as the next customer moves up. She asks me to grab another loaf of the cheddar sourdough, and I hand over the two loaves to her when I sit back down.

“So, has Zane mentioned anything about us getting together again?” I hear Astrid ask Lincoln as she gives him his loaf.

His face colors, and I know that’s not good news. I scowl to myself. I thought Astrid and Zane seemed to hit it off.

“The last few days have been busy, getting ready for the game this weekend. We haven’t had a chance to talk really.” He shrugs and gives me a wave.

“Oh,” Astrid says. She moves on to the next customer.

“Thanks, Astrid,” he says, smiling genuinely at her, and her face lights up at the little gesture. He is such a good guy. Enough so that I ignore the little prick in my chest at not getting that smile directed my way simply because fate put him in the wrong place in line.

“I’ll talk to him about it later,” I say in a low voice to Astrid when I get up to grab a few more items.

She sighs. “It’s okay,” she says.

I can’t help watching Lincoln head back down the sidewalk, where I can see his blue Bronco parked in the distance. I didn’t even get to wish him good luck on his game. I’m sure he’s heading straight to the airport after this.

A squeal from Margot in the bouncer at my feet brings my attention to Landon, who’s just walked in. “Heard it was busy,” he says, picking Margot up. “Can I help for an hour or two?”

“Yes, we could use someone to box up orders,” Mila says. “I’m so behind on cooking, I’m zero help right now.”

He leans over the counter and gives her a quick kiss. “Good problem to have,” he says. “Time for a storefront?” He’s been suggesting this for weeks.

“Put a pin in that.” Mila shoots him a look. She loves her truck. I don’t know if she can give it up. She’s also concerned about the investment a shop would be. “Get to work,” she teases.

My back is sore by the end of the day, so as soon as we get home, I plop Margot on the rug I bought to cover the nasty floors for some free wiggle room and then lie down next to her, arms and legs splayed out around me. I pull my phone out and keep one eye on Margot rolling this way and that while I send a text to Lincoln.

Layla: Didn’t get to tell you good luck for tomorrow!

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