Page 8 of Small Town Secrets

She has every reason not to trust me. Likely any man, for that matter.

But the older woman grabbed his hand and jerked him forward, and in the next beat, took Laila’s daughter out of her arms and stalked away. As much as he wanted to chase that woman down and thank her, he held back any signs of gratitude so as not to tee-off Laila, instead extending his hand in an offer to dance.

Her stare fixed on his hand for the longest time, making his stomach churn like some awkward kid at prom just waiting for the brutal blow of her rejection. Eventually, her gaze narrowed, and she made eye-contact, the strain over her face quick to ease. “Oh. Fine.”

She grabbed at his hand and pulled him in, he chuckled at her abrasive approach and thanked his luck at the current slower music. “Just the sort of enthusiasm I look for in a woman.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smiling lips told a different story. “Most guys run the moment they find out about Whitney. What’s your deal?”

“You’re the one who ran, remember?” Given her reticence and the renewed scowl she pitched his way, as much as he wanted to, he tried not to run a thumb over where his hand connected with her back. Her daughter no doubt meant a great deal to her, and he couldn’t imagine the hurt of watching others run away over that same love. “Good people are few and far between, a child and potential ex on the periphery makes no difference. I’d like to find out if you’re one of those good people, Laila.”

As much as that seemed like an ideal moment to glide closer and claim the benefits of any potential adoration, he stepped back and slid his palms down her arms, taking hold of just one hand and twirling her around. The long hem of her bright blue dress kicked and fanned out, while he tried to not close his eyes and make a show of breathing in the billowing scent of her red apple and jasmine perfume.

Back at center, her gaze latched to his and her brows drew together, her collarbone working up and down as though she were a little breathless. “Lucky for you, exes aren’t a problem here.”

His world stilled a little as he pondered her statement. Perhaps, like his dad, Laila’s ex wanted nothing to do with her and his child. Or perhaps, his previous widow theory applied. Then again, her flat delivery spoke of resentment over grief.

Her brows dipped in a sign she saw his confusion, and she sucked in a breath, before replying, “Whitney’s dad went complete incommunicado. I don’t even know where he is.”

He had to work hard not to belay his anger through tightening his grip around her waist. He knew too well what that kind of abandonment did to a child and their remaining parent. It dented their trust in most people. Especially anyone trying to show romantic interest. That said, he wasn’t beyond trying to ease the weigh on this heavier conversation.

“Well, you know where I live, and I have a number you’re welcome to call.” He offered a ‘‘no pressure’’ sort of smile and slid his hand down to the small of her back, testing her reaction, which turned out to be nothing, and still a heck of a lot better than her slapping him away.

“Real smooth, buddy.” In spite of her sarcasm, she huffed out a reluctant laugh and her fingers did an encouraging curl into his shoulders.

The beauty of her deep blue eyes sent a hard pang through his chest. Even her small refusals triggered a protective urge in him. Now that he understood a little more about where her reluctance came from…

“So”—he spoke, but her gaze flittered to her girl sipping at a glass of juice on a barstool next to her grandmother. This woman worries. A lot. Not that he could blame her.

He dared to lift his hand and touch the softness of her jawline, bringing her attention back to him again—“How about that dinner? One that’s not care of Blaine and Emilia?”

Her lips lifted into a smile, one that added a soft glitter to the rich hue of her eyes, the joy there gone all too soon. “Adrian...”

His name from her lips should have made his heart sing, but the drawn-out dip in her tone only took all hope with it.

She shook her head slowly, only confirming his theories on lost hope. “I work a shitty night job and am studying my proverbial nuts off to graduate early. In between all that, I look after my kid. I don’t think you know what you’re asking of me here.”

“You’re wrong about that.” He gave a disingenuous shrug, a distinct heaviness dragging at his gut because he could feel her rejection closing in. “I know what I’m asking for. I’m asking for one dinner.”

“Okay”—She scoffed and peered down at his chest, still shaking her head as though she figured him one wooly brained fool—“Well, for starters, if you did know, you’d understand that my schedule isn’t exactly brimming with free time.”

“Because of the kid?” Starting to catch her point now, that this was more about her situation than a dislike of him, his next shrug came a whole lot easier. “Bring the kid with you.”

She pressed her lips into a flat line to match her flat stare. “The kid’s bedtime is seven.”

“Fine. Then we’ll do lunch.”

Though her lips rose into an incredulous smile, her brows bent with seeming skepticism. Just as she opened her mouth to reply—and most likely to turn him down—a random voice called loud across the room. “Hey, everyone. Ally and Chip are fighting over by the river.”

The public announcement, over quietly approaching Laila or her mother to defuse the situation, made him wonder if this might be one of those small-town things. You know, a love for anything new and dramatic. That anyone’s business was implicitly everyone’s business.

The fact that the other guests’ faces lit with glee seemed to confirm his theory.

“Oh, shit.” Laila jolted out of his hold and gathered her long hem into her hands, jogging away just as quickly and out the venue’s open doors.

Seconds passed before he abandoned his shock long enough to follow her through the outdoor table area and over a large lawn, where a horde of others milled about the party’s edge. Though he couldn’t hear past the nearby river sounds and people’s whispers, Ally stood before Chip crying, her every backward step taking her farther away from the man. Only, Chip drew nearer, his steps faster, as her face lost its hard edge of anger in time for him to pull her into a long and emotionally wrought kiss.

Adrian stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Laila, just as she whispered a breathy, “Wow.”

---