Page 8 of Layla Meets Her Match

My heartbeat picks up. “Obviously.”

“And keep going to the bakery, of course,” Eli adds.

I roll my eyes, but that doesn’t stop my face from going hot at the reminder that he knows why I show up there every day. He holds his hand out for a high five, and I slap it, then we slap the back sides of our hands before he clutches it in a handshake the way we do on the field.

“Don’t worry, Knight. We’ve been where you are,” he says.

“If you use another football metaphor …” Landon warns.

“I was just going to say we’re the exact right guys to help Linc get the girl,” Eli protests. He looks over at me, and his smile widens. I have no idea what metaphor he was going to use, and I’m finding myself disappointed to not find out. What I do know is that they’re right. I might have a chance with Layla Delaford with these two on my side.

CHAPTER 5

LAYLA

Court and Mila both insist on going back to Eli and Court’s house so they can see Margot instead of letting Landon just bring her home. I don’t blame Court. Margot is much better company than me tonight. I was up past midnight recording videos, and then Margot had a rough night of sleeping, waking every hour until it was time for us to get up and go to work with Mila. I’ve been dead on my feet all day.

I give a sleeping Margot a kiss on the forehead when Landon meets us at the door, but I let Court lift her out of the wrap that Landon’s been holding her in. We brought her portable crib for her to sleep in, but it’s no surprise that Landon held her the whole time. He keeps claiming that he has to hold her all he can now since he won’t get to hold her as much when I move out next week.

Once I come into the family room, I notice, with surprise, that Lincoln Knight is here. My heart does a little flutter thing that I put a stop to right away. I can’t help thinking about the way Mila and Astrid tried to tell me that he comes to the truck for me. I shake all of that away. Lincoln is twice as hot as You Know Who—maybe more, because as far as I can tell, the tall, broad running back is friendly and sweet.

And maybe he really is. I just don’t plan on finding out if he’s not everything he seems. That would be a disappointment. He has the sweetest smile, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to seeing it every day at the bakery truck.

“Hey, Layla,” he says, greeting me with that same sweet smile.

“Hi, Lincoln.” I drop into a seat on the sectional, and Lincoln sits down too. “How were your cake pops?”

He gives a forced chuckle and rubs at his jaw. “Delicious, of course.”

I lean forward on my elbows and lower my voice. “And you’re not going to tell me your secret workout?”

His expression relaxes, but only slightly. He rubs his hands together in a nervous kind of way that has me intrigued about him. I’ll give him that—he’s not charming in an obvious way. Maybe his thing is endearing. I could see how that would work on some girls.

“Football helps,” he says.

I ignore the image that pops into my head of Lincoln in his uniform, lined up next to Eli. What woman wouldn’t keep that image tucked away in her brain? It gives me an idea though. Eli is a great guy, and Lincoln seems to be too. Astrid has a much better chance of finding a good guy among the disciplined ranks of the LA Rays. Definitely a better chance than with an actor.

This is brilliant.

I grasp my hands together under my chin and lean even closer. “Lincoln, can you help me with something?”

“Of course.”

It kind of surprises me for a second at how quick his agreement is. Which means that I have to take another second to remember what I was going to say in the first place. “Um, I have a friend. Astrid, the new girl that’s working with me and Mila.”

He freezes, then swallows. “Yeah, I kind of remember her.”

“I need to find her a date,” I say. Lincoln nods slowly. “Do you know anyone on the team who’d want to be set up?”

His shoulders relax. “I’m sure I could round up someone.” He clears his throat and opens his mouth but then doesn’t say anything. Then he clears his throat again.

“If you’re not okay with setting someone up—” I hurry to say, but he waves his hand to stop me.

“No, it’s fine. I just wonder if maybe … should we … um, should we double, just as friends, of course?” He’s rubbing his hands together again.

I’m sure that women flirt with Lincoln all the time. I’m guessing he has a slew of ways to gently say no to dates, and maybe some not-so-gentle ways. As I watch him flounder a little nervously, I wonder if he’s the kind of guy who ends up on weird dates because he can’t say no. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he was nervous about me using the setup story to get a date with him.

“We don’t have to,” I assure him. “I wasn’t trying to set myself up or anything like that.” Heat floods my cheeks. He probably thinks I’m trying to be cool or something about going out with him.

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