Page 9 of Layla Meets Her Match

And I don’t want to date Lincoln Knight. I don’t want to date anyone.

“It’s fine,” he says quickly. “I didn’t think you were.”

“Oh good.” It’s all I can come up with to say.

Silence fills the space around us.

“I think it would be, um, easier for our friends if we made it, like, a laid-back thing with us there too?” he says hesitantly. “Like … not putting all the pressure on them.”

I didn’t think about that. Sure, I’ve had awkward dates, but I also have the skills to get myself through them. My heart melts a little at the fact that Lincoln probably empathizes with someone being unsure of themselves on dates. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s do it.” Really, it’s part of a matchmaker’s responsibility to look out for the people she’s setting up.

Lincoln bobs his head in agreement, and then several beats go by before he says, “How was your girls’ night?”

I settle back against the couch. “Fun. But I was terrible company tonight.” I sigh and close my eyes for just a second.

“I doubt that.” His low chuckle sends a shiver through me, and I don’t open my eyes. He might see how much I like the sound of his laugh.

“It was just dinner and a lot of good talking,” I say. “We’re all exhausted. Mila needs another baker, even though there’s not room in the truck for two people to work. And Court’s a teacher. Nobody needs to explain why she’s tired.”

“Sounds like just what you all needed.” His voice is like a lullaby, smooth and deep and perfect. So calm I could fall asleep.

I finally open my eyes. “What I could use is a nap. Does that sound like a fun girls’ night?”

He laughs again. “I could get behind that.” He pauses, and when I look at him, his nervous tic has turned into rubbing one hand along the tops of his thigh. He stops as soon as he sees my glance. “I don’t know anything about babies,” he says with a rueful look. “Is Margot a bad sleeper usually?”

“No. She was last night. But I do work at night to supplement my bakery work.” I give a little shrug.

“Two jobs.” Lincoln whistles lowly. “Superwoman.”

I shake my head. “Just a regular woman.”

He shakes his head back at me but doesn’t argue.

“Margot is a good reason to be tired,” I say softly.

“I don’t have any baby skills.” He leans forward. “But I’d still be happy to help.” His voice is earnest.

I smile. “Thanks. I have plenty of babysitters, to be honest.” I gesture toward the opposite side of the couch from us. Court sits in the middle, holding Margot. Eli sits on one side of her, his arm around Court’s back. Mila is on her other side, and Landon is on the other side of her. While we watch, he leans over and runs a finger gently over her mass of silky, dark curls. The thickness she got from me. The curls, unfortunately, she got from him. When I glance back to Lincoln, he’s biting back a laugh. “And my parents are happy to babysit anytime,” I add.

“They’re close?”

“Culver City. And they’re avid grandparents.”

“Well, my offer still stands.” He clears his throat right after he says it, and I swallow a smile. When I first started trying to find acting jobs, one of my roommates was a woman who couldn’t put two sentences together unless they were written into a script. But on camera? It was like that’s where she found herself. She’s a regular on a sitcom now. Lincoln reminds me of her.

“Thanks.” I scoot to the edge of the couch and address the crowd around my daughter. “Okay, time to get her home to bed.”

There’s a collective soft groan at my words, and it makes me laugh. Half of the crowd on the couch is coming home with me.

“I get to carry her out,” Mila says to Landon, reaching for Margot from Court, who gives her up with a sigh.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Lincoln says with a half smile. It’s self-deprecating.

“I think you have an addiction,” I whisper. “But no one can blame you. Mila’s chocolate chip cookies must have some kind of secret ingredient.”

“That’s my best guess,” he says. I lean over to grab the diaper bag, but Lincoln beats me to it. He picks it up and throws it over one shoulder. “I’ll walk you out,” he says. “I’m headed that way anyway.”

My heart flutters again, but I shove it away. Lincoln is perfect friend material. That means I won’t have to be disappointed when he’s not the “Knight” he seems like now.

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