Page 29 of I Still Love You

She’s been holed up in the kitchen since I arrived, which isn’t surprising considering they have to get their baked goods prepared. I cross Sierra’s lawn, noting how it’s a decent size for the suburbs she lives in. Out here, it’s hard to find property with more than an acre on it. The seclusion she has, the high fence around the perimeter, adds to the glamor, almost making me wish I opted for something like this than the townhouse I moved into after Mase and Mackenzie left for Austin.

I nod at a few people as I walk up the steps to the deck, beer in hand. I haven’t let myself fully indulge in it, only taking a pull here and there because I know how bad of an idea it’d be with Layla around. I’m not interested in making friends with these people. Not interested in telling them the story of Layla and me. Still, I feel their stares linger as I walk by and grab a handful of pretzels from the spread Sierra has on a table outside the kitchen door. I pop one into my mouth and use the hand I’m holding my beer with to slide the screen door open. The kitchen doesn’t hold the same calmness as the backyard. It’s noisy and chaotic with the chatter and laughter of the ladies inside. Even more so when a dog barrels through the kitchen and darts between my legs to get outside before I fully shut the door.

“No!” a female shouts. “Don’t let him…” She skids to a stop in front of me, exasperation lining her light brown eyes. “Out.”

I look over my shoulder, out into the backyard, and see her dog race down the deck steps and into the grass. “Sorry,” is all I’m able to mutter before she runs around me and heads for the canine.

All eyes are back on me when I turn back to the kitchen. A handful of Layla’s coworkers gape, then quickly snap their gazes back to the cupcakes in their hands. My gaze jumps from face to face until I land on her. Trailing my way to the far side of the island, I brush my hand along Layla’s side and let it linger at the small of her back.

Dressed in a red mini dress with polka dots scattered from hem to hem, I allow myself a brief moment to take her in despite my internal warning. Fucking gorgeous as hell and a complete stunner. My eyes stay on her like glitter sticks to basically anything. Roaming, they glide along the curve of her back as she sits perched on top of a stool, her focus dead set on the cupcake she’s blanketing with frosting.

When she chances a glimpse at me, the blue of her eyes forces me to refocus. “Enjoying yourself?”

Not necessarily. I would have loved to stay in this morning. Would have loved to kick back and relax. Maybe hit up the gym. Not to mention, she’s been holed up in this kitchen for the last two hours, and something tells me that’s not going to end any time soon. The cherry on top of the cake? The cold shoulder she’s given since I arrived seems to still be in place.

We might dislike each other, but we chose to come here as a team. She hasn’t been a very good partner, and has put more of her attention on these damn baked goods than anything, which, granted, is how it should be, but if Monica can take a minute to steal Thomas away, then the same opportunity exists for us. Not because I want to kick back with her in my arms, but because I want to make sure this is believable between us.

“I’d be enjoying myself more if I got more than a hello from you,” I tell her, my voice low as I set my beer and pretzels on the counter but not low enough that those close by can’t hear. I smear my finger across the back of her hand where there’s a drop of purple frosting and pop my finger into my mouth.

“Was that necessary?”

“Is it necessary to be,” I lean into her ear, noting the way she lifts her shoulder to try and keep me away, “ignoring me?”

“I’m not ignoring you,” she claims, but it’s a bald-faced lie. She’s still pissed about what happened at the farmer’s market. Angry that I didn’t stand my ground and let my testosterone battle it out with Andrew.

“Liar,” I breathe before pulling back. I skim the length of her dress, noting how easy it would be to run a finger up the outside of her thigh lazily. How simple it would be to move my hand right over the sweetest part of her.

Gone are the days of teasing her. Of feeling my stomach soar to unimaginable places at the sound of her soft whimpers. Ones meant for me. Ones that started off quiet and grew in tempo the more we fooled around.

Now it’s just farmer’s markets, coworkers, picnics, and mini polka dot dresses.

That, however, doesn’t negate the fact that I need to make sure we’re okay, that we’re good. Because if we’re not…

“Take a break,” I say, nodding toward the screen door, “and eat lunch with me for a few minutes.”

“There’s too much to do. I’ll eat later.”

I look off to the side, irritated. She’s only refusing because I’m the one who asked. I pluck the cupcake out of her hand, curl my fist around her fingers, and spin her on the stool. A tiny shriek tumbles from her mouth, and I ignore the pull it has on my chest. “We’re going to eat. This…” I look back to her cupcake, to the mess that’s around it—cupcake liners, colored sugar, frosting tips, and more—and finish with, “Will still be here when we’re done.”

“Luke,” she says in warning as I tug her to her feet.

“Oh, just go,” Sierra says from behind the island, a sparkle in her eye. “You’ve been working nonstop. Let Luke sweep you off your feet and go get something to eat!”

I press a hand to the small of her back when she relents and turns for the screen door.

“I thought you were talking with Thomas?”

“I was,” I say, my voice low as we make it out onto the deck. “Until Monica came around, and he disappeared with her.” Now that I look around, neither one of them are nearby.

“Oh,” is all she says when she approaches the spread of typical picnic food.

I exhale quietly and look around, noting our surroundings. To everyone else, we’re supposed to look like we’re happily dating, that we can’t get enough of each other. But what I’m about to say is going to twist her face into a wince. “You’re still mad over what happened at the farmer’s market.”

She puts up her armor and unleashes a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. The mask she wears mirrors mine, so it’s blatantly clear that the grin is just for show. “I don’t care what happened at the farmer’s market anymore.”

My eyes flick between hers before she turns back and begins piling a plate with food. She’s lying through her goddamn teeth. She does fucking care. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be looking at me like she’d happily watch a hyena eat every piece of me and snicker with the damn thing afterward. “Cut the bullshit act and stop lying.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Lying, not lying. It doesn’t matter what I say to you, Luke. You’ll find something wrong with it. Some way to run with it.” She pokes a ham and cheese slider from a tray and plops it on her plate. “Can we just pretend that we can read minds?”

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