Page 2 of Beautiful Thing

I don’t mistake the pain I hear in her voice when she talks about being with the wrong person.I instantly get all pissed off at the thought of her dirtbag ex.

Razor is the father of Layla’s baby, so I try to behave, I try to stay out of it.But any man who gets his girlfriend pregnant, treats her like garbage and then leaves her to struggle on her own without ever looking back, deserves a fist through his face.

Before I can start ruminating over Layla’s situation, a phone rings in the distance. Taking advantage of the distraction, I wish the ladies a good evening, excuse myself, and flee to my office to answer the call.

As I go, I glance up at the ornaments and tinsel dangling from the wooden rafters here at the Hammers and Hardware Outlet. It’s about time I take down all these damn Christmas decorations.

Over the phone, I make quick work of answering the caller’s questions about the store’s opening hours, and a moment later, Layla is standing in the doorway to my office.Even though I just saw her a mere minute ago, her effortless beauty and her twinkly presence startle me all over again.

I’m supposedly running a business. Yet, even the briefest eye contact with my gorgeous employee makes me completely forget whatever big, important goal I’m trying to accomplish here.

After knowing this girl for more than two whole decades, I should be used to her by now. But I’m not. Her pretty face catches me off-guard every time.

Feeling like a speechless fool, I just blink up at her.

“Are you okay?” she asks sweetly. “With the way those old ladies were hounding you, I mean.” When she tucks a lock of her shiny brown hair behind her ear, I silently wonder whatthose loose waves would feel like slipping between my calloused fingers.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I reach for the sudoku puzzle on my desk and try to look unaffected. “I’ve been through worse.”

Ever since all my siblings coupled up, everyone around town has been on my case for being single. Especially because I’m the oldest of the Brighton crew.

Apparently myquote-unquote‘advanced age’ means I was supposed to be the first to get hitched. Not the last.

People seem to think that because I’m not attached at the hip with some woman that I’m a miserable, lonely sap. Why can’t everyone just get off my back?

Layla’s nose wrinkles, looking goddamn cute. “You’ve been throughworse?”

“Yeah. My motherandmygrandmother.”

The two of them have been on my case about my ‘singledom’ for years. They’ve gotten even more overbearing now that all my siblings are in their ‘coupling up’ era, as Karli calls it.

I’m now the only single Brighton. Which means that finding me a partner is now the hot topic of the family group chat.

Layla covers her wide grin with her delicate fingers. “Oh my gosh. I can only imagine.”

“Every time I talk to them, they start raving about the eligible bachelorettes they’ve been meeting in every city they visit,” I complain. “It’s like they’re trying to ship over a mail order bride from Europe. The whole thing has been a headache.”

The minute my father retired from his medical practice, he whisked Mom off on a trip to Europe. That was well over a year ago. They’ve spent a lot of that time in Ireland where Dad’s parents now live. But the rest of their trip has been spent hopping from city to city, going on adventures.

I sort of lucked out, in a sense, when they all made the last minute decision to spend the Holidays overseas. But with Felix’s wedding only a few weeks away, the senior Brightons are all preparing to return home for the big event. And I’m bracing for impact.

I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m not looking forward to seeing my folks. I am. I love them. I do.

But instead of just allowing me to enjoy the festivities that will come along with Felix and Daphne’s fancy wedding, my mom and grandma are going to be busy drivingmeabsolutely insane.

Layla—who doesn’t know just how bad my life is about to get—leans against the side of my desk and laughs at my predicament.

“Good to see you think this is entertaining,” I grumble, shaking my head.

As her giggles simmer down, her big, brown eyes shine sympathetically at me. “Seriously though, Archer. Youshouldhave a girlfriend. You’re a great guy and—”

“Not you, too. You are notseriouslyabout to stick your nose in my dating life.” I huff in disbelief.

“What…?” she asks innocently. “We’re friends…”

“I’m your boss,” I correct her, attempting to draw a boundary between us in my brain.

Layla tilts her pretty head to the side and glares at me. “The same boss who’s made a hobby out of sticking his nose in every aspect of my life?Thatboss?”

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