Page 53 of Layla Meets Her Match

“Morning, beautiful,” he says, and I hold back a laugh of surprise. One thing he told me last night was that he was going to make it clear to Astrid who he has feelings for. I glance over at Astrid, who’s taking an order, and note the way her gaze snaps to Lincoln, eyes narrowing. I’d feel bad, except I’m pretty sure she tried to make him sick. My sympathy is thin.

“What are you having this morning?” I ask.

“I think I’m ready for sugar cookies again,” he says. “That orange dreamsicle frosting sounds amazing.”

Fortune is with us, and Astrid is already sliding from her seat to get an order. “Can you grab six sugar cookies for Lincoln?” I ask.

She smiles at him, but it’s much less bright than it has been the past few days. “Sure thing.” She packs up her order, then the sugar cookies, all with Mila surreptitiously watching. She gives me a nod, the indication that Astrid has done something to his cookies.

She heads back for the front, and I reach for the box, keeping her from handing them straight over to Lincoln. She frowns slightly at me before shrugging and turning to her line, where Mrs. Van Buren and three of her friends from Harmony Homes have stepped up to order (probably cutting several people in line, judging by the looks they’re getting). They start listing off a long and difficult order, asking Astrid to show them the screen of her tablet several times to make sure she’s getting it right. It gives me the distraction we need to switch boxes and hand over the cookies that Mila made at her apartment this morning before coming to work.

Once Lincoln has his cookies, Mrs. Van Buren cuts off her order and her little posse steps off to the side to wait while Astrid goes to box up the twelve different things they ordered. She has to take her tablet with her just to keep everything straight, and when Mrs. Van Buren meets my eye and winks at me, I choke on a giggle, barely holding it back. I can see why Lincoln likes her—loves her despite everything, even if he can’t admit that to himself. She’s good for him. I saw it in the way she hovered near him last night while we were all there, and the way he kept 75% of his attention on her the whole evening. (I was a little bit of a distraction, but I stayed close to him so keeping us both in his eyeline would be easy.)

“I just can’t wait to eat this today,” Lincoln says, making sure his voice is raised enough for Astrid to hear. “They look delicious.” He pulls one from the box. “Want one, Layla?” he asks.

Astrid’s head snaps up as I take it. Her gaze goes back and forth between me and Lincoln as he pulls another from the box and raises it to his mouth.

She drops the box she’s preparing, her face pale, her eyes wide. “Lincoln, no!” she screams, lunging toward the front of the truck, hand out as though she can stop him.

Lincoln raises his eyebrows and chews.

“Don’t you need to have those checked first?” She’s trying to keep her voice low, but panic is etched into every word. She looks over at me as I take a bite as well. “Layla!” she cries. She can reach me, so she swings at the cookie and knocks it from my hands. “Spit it out,” she demands.

I quickly swallow and can’t help laughing.

“This isn’t a joke!” Astrid cries shrilly. “Make yourself throw up. Hurry!” It only makes me laugh harder. “Layla!” She stomps her foot, trying to appear stern, I think, but I can’t stop laughing.

“Don’t worry,” Lincoln says, taking another bite. “Mila made these special for me last night. No arsenic at all.”

I pull out the box that Astrid handed me earlier, and if it’s possible, she goes paler. She clamps her lips shut.

Mrs. Van Buren steps up to the ordering counter and eyes Astrid. “The jig is up, missy.”

Astrid’s confession comes out between sobs while she sits in the back of Officer Brady’s car, which is parked behind the bakery truck. Even though we close the truck down while we all deal with her, a crowd still mills around. I have to swallow back laughs every time Mrs. Van Buren or one of her friends tells someone to get back.

FitBallerLA, better known as Bo Steele, found Astrid via a job posting for an actress to help with marketing for his business. She did a handful of social media ads for him, which is how she ended up following his account. Then he asked her to do something more lucrative—infiltrate Mila’s bakery truck to get Lincoln sick. Astrid tried to refuse, but Bo promised her several parts in exchange and promised no one would get really hurt. Convinced her that it was for Lincoln’s own good to realize he shouldn’t be eating so much junk. All he wanted to do was prove that Lincoln was damaging the Rays by eating unhealthy food every day from Mila’s bakery truck. (From Astrid’s description, to say he was an avid fan would be an understatement.) He even came through with a part for her right off to convince her he could do it.

By the time Astrid understood what he’d given her to make Lincoln sick, it was too late to back out. Bo told her he’d make sure to lay all the blame on her if she said anything. Blackmailed her by saying he would take everything to the cops and laying out how guilty she’d look. She stopped putting the arsenic on Lincoln’s treats anyway, telling Bo that they had to lie low for a bit since Mila had brought the police in. But then he started coming by the food truck to spy on her and pressure her, and when she found out we were having them checked before Lincoln ever ate anything, she used the poison again. That way, she could still tell Bo that she was doing her job while keeping Lincoln safe.

By the time she finishes, Mila’s in the back seat with her, holding her and comforting her and promising that we’ll help her out and make sure that Bo—well, let’s just say she didn’t wish very nice things on him. Mila’s loyalty surprises no one but Officer Brady, who keeps trying to insist that Astrid is in a lot of trouble in a very stern voice. Every time he gets a word in, Mila assures Astrid that everything will be just fine. So Officer Brady finally agrees to do what he can to get Astrid a plea deal if they can bring Bo down for it.

And then Kipp Avery shows up and surprises us all. Maybe me most of all. He tells Astrid he’ll meet her at the police station with his lawyer and make sure Officer Brady comes through with the deal.

Mila beams at him, her romantic heart near to bursting, I’m sure. “Maybe he’s not so bad …?” she whispers, leaning over as he closes the door softly on the back of Officer Brady’s police vehicle and then hurries to his own car.

“He’s no Jack …” is all I can say. And that’s the most sincere compliment I can give him.

CHAPTER 30

LINCOLN

I’m already pushing it being this late to practice today. I have permission since the coaches know what’s going down right now to catch the saboteur, but I don’t have any reason to be here anymore. I can always tell them Officer Brady needed me to make a statement though I’m not sure how believable it will be. He made it clear that he’ll bend over backward to work with my schedule to line all of this out.

So I use the time to linger near Layla, even as Officer Brady drives away and Mila prepares to open the bakery truck back up. Is this how it will be every time I have to leave her? Away games are going to be rough. I might still need Landon and Eli for advice, even though we’ve accomplished what we set out to do.

“You ready to get back to your station?” Mila calls to Layla from inside the truck. We’re standing by the back door. She’s hugging my waist but leaning back so she can look up at me. I’ve got my arms around her too, barely containing my desire to pull her back to me and kiss her for a long time. Too many watchful eyes though. Dottie and her friends are gathered just a little ways away. I told Dottie I’d drive her home even though one of her friends brought them all in her car this morning.

“Just a minute,” Layla calls back to Mila reluctantly. The crowd on the other side of the truck has grown larger, probably because news has traveled about something serious going down here and people want the full story. In any case, she’s got to go soon. We both need to get back to work. “I’ll see you tonight?” she asks, looking up at me pleadingly.

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