Page 42 of Falling for the Guy Next Door

For a second, we stood close together, so close I could have counted the freckles on her nose. Then her forehead bunched in worry. “No, you can’t kiss me,” she said.

I stepped back as if she’d slapped me. The truth was I’d been thinking about it, but she obviously didn’t want the kiss. “I’m sorry. I won’t.” I wasn’t sure how to take the rejection, but it had sure put a kink in an otherwise fun visit.

Layla shook her head. “Jeez, I am tired. I meant don’t kiss me, not tonight. I just spent an evening eating salsa and tamales.” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “When we—if we kiss, I don’t want you to think about onions and jalapeños.”

I chuckled and pulled her into my arms for a hug. “Even onions and jalapeños would taste good on those lips, but we’ll wait until the timing is right.”

Layla smiled shyly and then snuggled against me. Her soft hair tickled my chin.

“Hmm, I don’t know about onions and jalapeños but your hair smells like flowers.”

“It’s the shampoo I use, and I’m now going to start following the influencer who suggested it.” She stepped back, and her heel tapped the guitar leaning against the sofa. “Oops, sorry about that.”

“Not a problem.” I took her hand to lead her out.

“How’s the song going?” Her question was followed by another sleepy yawn.

“I think it’s done.”

“I’d like to hear it sometime.”

“Soon.”

A salty haze had drifted in to whitewash an otherwise dark night. There was a single porch light on at her cottage and a light on inside. We stopped at the door.

“I guess living next door to the girl I like has its advantages. That was the shortest walk home ever. When I was fifteen, I was dating this girl, Megan, and she lived three blocks away, which wasn’t bad, only to get to her house we had to pass by the Arnolds’ house, and they had two of the meanest Rottweilers. There was a fence around the yard, but when those two massive dogs raced toward you and threw themselves at the fence, it didn’t seem like a good enough barrier.”

“That would be scary.” She reached up and picked a dog hair off my shirt. “It’s sweet that you walked her home. The boy I liked when I was fifteen used to come by and stick rocks in our mailbox. Don’t ask me why, but apparently, he thought that would win me over.”

“Yeah, at fifteen most of us guys aren’t thinking too straight through the hurricane of hormones. And, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t my idea to walk her home. It was an order from my mom. It wasn’t a big deal, and I always managed to get a kiss, which was at least some compensation for having to walk by those dogs, not once, but twice.”

Her brown eyes glittered under the porch light. “Well, I owe you a kiss, then. After your invitation, I was congratulating myself on my earlier decision to wear a cute sundress for dinner with my sisters instead of my usual shorts and T-shirt. But I’d forgotten all about my salsa breath.”

“I have high praise for the dress, and I’ve always been a big fan of salsa. Now go in and get to bed.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. I turned to leave.

“I know tomorrow is Saturday, but I can still walk Rocky … if you don’t mind.”

“We’ll both be waiting for you. Goodnight, Layla.”

“Goodnight, Nash.”

ChapterTwenty-Five

Layla

As predicted, the bakery was bustling with activity. We all raced around nonstop for the first two hours until the crowd finally slowed. Instead of a line to the corner, there was only a short line of three people out on the sidewalk. I slipped into the back quickly for a cup of coffee.

Isla was frosting fudge brownies. “What a morning.” She saw me filling a cup of coffee. “You’re feeling it, too?” she asked.

“Feeling what?” I took a sip of coffee and relaxed at the comforting taste of it.

“The margaritas. I had to drag myself out of bed this morning.”

“That’s because, for you, morning is the middle of the night.”

The margaritas hadn’t helped, but as tired as I’d been, this new thing I’d started with Nash had made me too anxious and excited to sleep. Since I couldn’t talk to anyone about it yet, I’d been internalizing the whole thing on my own—right through the midnight hour and beyond.

I took another bracing sip of coffee. Even Isla’s strong brew wasn’t going to cut through the brain fog this morning.

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