Page 39 of Small Town Secrets

“Really?” He lifted his tone and jerked his head back in an act of surprise.

“Yep.” Whitney giggled and nodded. “Moths make cocoons from mixing twigs and leaves around together.” She leaned across the table and wrinkled her nose at Adrian in a lighthearted ‘you should already know this’ sort of expression. “A chrysalis is like a shell and it’s made from the caterpillar’s own body. It’s called an exoskeleton.”

Adrian dropped his jaw open and turned to Laila. “What?”

She raised both hands in a matter-of-fact shrug, not even trying to hide any signs of pride over Whitney absorbing that little factoid.

With the dinner plates near empty and Whitney releasing a yawn, she took that as her cue to stand and address the table at large. “I’ll go in and put together some fruit for dessert.” She paused and looked at Ramos, already knowing what he’d say. “And no, beside you maybe stacking the plates, I don’t need any help. I’ll be back soon.”

She gave Whitney a little wink and then walked inside.

As the kettle boiled and she washed strawberries using just one hand—admittedly not an easy task—she peered out to Whitney having swapped seats to be next to Ramos. Now, she cupped his face in her hands, the cupping turning to outright pinching his cheeks and pulling them into distorted angles.

Caught somewhere between intervening and letting him handle the situation, Laila laughed and ultimately decided to stay where she was. Maybe because he smiled through the ordeal, artfully keeping Whitney at bay with revenge neck tickles. And even as she laughed, something deep and aching shifted in her chest, and she had to pull her attention away from the giggling two outside.

The squeals of laughter hadn’t abated by the time Laila came out to the table with a tray of sliced fruit. Despite orders to stay put, Adrian ended the tickle battle with Whit to return the dinner plates inside, bringing the two coffees waiting on the kitchen counter back out with him. Almost as soon as he sat, Whitney leaned her head to his shoulder and began devouring strawberries, her eyes slowly but surely drooping shut.

Ramos sipped his coffee and peered at Laila from over the edge of his cup, his narrowed stare holding signs of pride mixed with something far more smoldering.

Temperature rising and heart beginning to pound, Laila’s body understood every word of what his eyes said, and she turned to Whit for distraction. “How about you change into your pajamas? You’re about to nod off into a bowl of strawberries.”

Whitney gasped and turned to Ramos as though she didn’t love the idea of having to leave him. This act alone set Laila’s nerves to a sharp prickle. This man and his patience had come to mean something to her and her daughter, and no matter how much Laila tried to slow things down, she simply couldn’t.

Whit twisted to wrap her arms around Ramos. He held still for beat, his stunned stare on Laila saying Whitney’s embrace was far from expected and that he didn’t dare hug Whitney back without Laila’s say so.

She nodded, and his shoulders eased downward before he patted the child on the back. For the longest time, the two just sat there in each other’s arms like nothing else mattered but this prolonged goodbye.

Laila could just imagine Whitney outright falling asleep in Adrian’s hold, but the child eventually climbed down from her seat and walked in shuffling steps inside, the unspoken assumption being that Laila would soon follow.

A hump formed in Laila’s throat at how much lighter her views on life had become since meeting Ramos. Despite all the chaos surrounding her, and the pressure cooker of trying to stay safe, perhaps all that pressure gave rise to the sense they’d known each other much longer. The necessity to place trust in each other.

And who exactly had she sought to protect most? Herself, her heart, or Whitney? What Laila did know, was that her feelings for Adrian were new. They were exciting and so different to the last few years of pushing through each day. Mostly alone. He’d given her something she didn’t want to run from.

So, even as she stood to get Whitney get ready for bed, her stare lingered on Ramos, his holding on her just the same. Soon, Whitney would be asleep, and Laila would have the rest of the night alone in this cabin with Ramos.

And maybe. Just maybe. She would allow herself to fall a little bit in love with him.

Twenty-Three

Laila cracked open the door leading from Whitney’s bedroom and into the darkened living room, her daughter now fast asleep. The newness of her surroundings buzzed with a low-level static, the stark quiet and lack of sun outside pushing her into a heightened sense of awareness.

The kitchen stood to her right, where the soft clatter of dishes and cutlery had filled the cabin as Adrian had tidied after dinner, while she helped Whitney to sleep. Another thing Mike would never have done.

The rushing sound of the shower down the hall entangled her in a surge of anticipation. She held her breath and ventured closer to the bathroom. Closer to Ramos and the promise she’d made herself about what she would do the moment she came out here.

The water snapped off just as she pressed her hand to the bathroom door. A door already leaking a thin sliver of light because he hadn’t locked it. She closed her eyes and pushed at the cold, flat wood, her heart thundering at the hint that he’d known she’d come here to find him.

Sticky-warm steam enveloped her, and she opened her eyes to a light fog and him. Just beyond that fog. Standing before her in all his beautiful, naked glory. His stare didn’t waver from hers. His body was ready. The silence between them only lasted a few beats, but time seemed to slow, before he broke the standoff and stormed toward her.

His lips slammed into hers and he scooped her up in his arms. His skin was wet. Not that she cared. She savored the sodden cling of her dress and the steamy heat of his freshly washed body. She welcomed his move to carry her and wrapped her legs around his waist, his lips devouring hers, as he took her to the bathroom counter.

Hard stone dug into her hips, but she savored that too. All that mattered was the way Adrian’s hands claimed her thighs. The thrill of him pushing her hem higher and higher. The aggressive way he parted her legs and exposed her black underwear.

This small room was their own little world. A world inside a cozy cabin. One where her having use of only one arm didn’t so much matter, because his undeniable desire filled in all the gaps and inadequacies.

She trusted that he would look out for her. What a strange feeling. Even stranger, that he could sweep her up in something so illogical and idyllic. They played house here. Played at being a family. And for this small window of time, she wanted to pretend all this was real.

His demanding touch brought her back to reality. And what a reality. One where he tugged her panties away and tossed them on the floor. She groaned. Caught somewhere between delight and frustration, which only got worse when he pushed her dress higher and growled into her neck. “This thing has been teasing me all day.”

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