Page 48 of Layla Meets Her Match

Could she have something to do with this?

Astrid boxes orders for Lincoln on a regular basis. I can’t remember for sure about the times Lincoln’s friends have gotten sick, but it’s a good bet. Dillon had shown Landon the arsenic crystals he found on the sugar cookie that Lincoln had retrieved from Mrs. Van Buren. They looked like they could have been decorative sugar crystals. Astrid was in the position to put stuff in only Lincoln’s orders without messing with anyone else’s.

Up until now, the theory was that someone was adding the arsenic sometime after Lincoln bought it. He’d never paid attention to anyone approaching him before—people asking for autographs is common enough, especially in the low-key environment surrounding the food truck—but it had seemed most likely. Until now.

Someone inside the food truck doing the sabotaging? It makes perfect sense. And I know for a fact it’s not me or Mila. The bodyguard Eli hired has access to the truck, but he was hired after the first poisoning. I doubt we have a conspiracy on our hands here. Brock, the guy who delivers stuff from the farm, is in the truck on a regular basis too, but what motive would he have? Poisoning someone in Mila’s truck would only hurt him and his parents’ business.

The same can be said of Astrid though. She has no motive. She likes Lincoln. I think she might even have a crush on him, and she was horrified today when she thought someone might have tried to poison him again.

And still, FitBallerLA is the strongest suspect we have. His motive might be weird, a vigilante mission to stop a football player from consuming sugar, but it’s a motive. I also can’t shake that Astrid is somehow connected to him.

So what’s going on?

Getting to the bakery truck early the next morning so I can talk to Mila about what she thinks about Astrid being involved becomes a lost cause when I oversleep, which is not a surprise considering I didn’t fall asleep until almost two a.m. I have to pair tennis shoes with my floral shorts and white top so that Margot and I can run to where the truck is parked several blocks away. I make it just as Astrid puts out our menu sign, only time enough to get Margot settled into her activity bouncer and to slide into my own seat.

“You have gossip to spill,” Mila says from behind me. “Is that why you showed up late?”

I blush, wondering if Lincoln told Landon or Eli about coming to my apartment last night. It was nothing different from the friendly way we’ve been hanging out all along. I mean, I’m definitely feeling more than just friendly feelings for Lincoln, but no one needs to know that yet. Not until I’ve figured out if I should tell him. “Gossip?” The confusion isn’t hard to fake.

She waves a spatula at me. “Little Jack Hor—” She cuts off saying the twist on the nursery rhyme nickname that was added to our collection of less-than-flattering terms we’ve come up with to refer to Jack by, and I notice a young mom with a toddler on her hip stepping up to Astrid’s side of the truck to give her order. I gulp back a snort of laughter. “Well, him showing up at your apartment,” Mila finishes.

The mom orders a couple muffins, but no one else steps up to order right away. “How did you know about that?” I shoot back at Mila.

Astrid’s eyebrows rise as she moves back to her spot with a small box of the muffins. I can’t help squinting at it, realizing that she got them without drawing my or Mila’s attention at all. Hmmm.

“Pictures of Jack Williams at your apartment are everywhere this morning. Do you know him?” Astrid asks, handing over the box before settling back in her seat. The mom gives me a curious look but walks away.

Mila and I share a glance. Very few people know that America’s Jerk is Margot’s dad, and I’m not inclined to bring Astrid in on the secret, especially now that I have suspicions about her.

“He used to be our roommate last year, before Phantom Hex,” Mila says casually.

Astrid’s mouth drops. “What? Seriously?”

Mila and I answer in perfect unison. “He’s a jerk.”

This surprises Astrid even more. She shakes her head in disbelief. “I never would have thought. He seems so … friendly and good in the movie.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes. You and the rest of America, honey. “I guess that’s why they call us actors.”

Mila shares another look with me, raising her own eyebrows, but I shake my head. If I want to keep it from Astrid who Margot’s father is, I can’t discuss why he was at my apartment last night.

Thankfully, customers start lining up and we’re busy taking orders. I’m so intent on watching Astrid’s every move—even though I know our culprit isn’t poisoning anyone else—that I don’t notice Lincoln in line until he steps up in front of me.

“Oh! Hey! Good morning,” I say.

His smile is soft as he looks at me, and a zing runs up my spine. Maybe tonight I could let something happen between us, let all these little things go further than they have so far. Does he feel that way about me? We have chemistry, but he’s never pushed it further either. Why not? I give my coworker the side-eye. She has a crush on him. Could he like her too? Does she know something I don’t?

“Morning.” He glances behind him, grimaces at the few people standing there, and then moves in a little closer. “I have bad news,” he says.

Astrid pops up to get an order, and I can’t help that my gaze follows her. I’m going to ask her to get Lincoln’s for me today and watch her like a hawk. If only I could have told Mila about my suspicions. She could have done it way less obviously than I can, especially if Lincoln is trying to talk to me. I should have let him know too. Texted or called him this morning.

Ugh. I’m not a very good detective.

“Layla?” he asks, snapping my attention back to him. He eyes me, his expression concerned like last night, and my cheeks heat. When he gathered me up in his arms and hugged me, it was so easy to imagine how I could have looked up at him, tipped my head back, and waited for a kiss from him. How he might have trailed his lips along my jawline or backed me up against the door …

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” I say in a rush. It’s hot in here today. Or maybe it’s just me. “What’s your bad news?” I hope it’s nothing to do with the poisoning, because I want to talk to him about my theory about Astrid and FitBallerLA before he spills more information in front of her.

Lincoln glances over his shoulder again as Astrid calls over the person standing in line behind him. Usually this would be where he orders quickly and steps aside, but he just puts his hands in his pockets.

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