Page 8 of What She Deserves
4
Layla stuffed her feet in a pair of Nike tennis shoes and zipped up her jacket. In the bathroom, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and left the warmth of her loft for a walk in the cold to her favorite neighborhood spot, Coffee Cup. She’d become a regular almost from the time she moved into the loft. The brisk walk was a way to get in some early morning exercise, and treating herself to breakfast was a simple way to pamper herself.
The entire neighborhood was conducive to walking, with a market nearby and plenty of small, locally owned eateries that served tapas, sandwiches, and other types of meals. Overall, her favorite was Coffee Cup because they served excellent coffee, and their breakfast and lunch were unmatched.
Strolling down the sidewalk, she allowed the fresh air to revive her, and though she tried not to think about her interaction with Rashad the night before, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. How had he been the past few years? Who was Natasha, the woman he was with? How important was she to him?
A prick of pain needled her chest, and Layla pushed her way inside the shop with a little more force than necessary. She nodded a greeting at one of the servers, the owner’s eldest daughter. Taking her place in line, she scoured the menu board behind the counter, and when her turn came, she greeted Brent, the owner’s son.
His big grin welcomed her like always. “Hey, Layla. How’s it going this morning?”
“Pretty good.”
“Let’s see… I’m guessing you’ll have a large coffee, a blueberry muffin, and a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and dill.”
“Did you have to call me out like that?” she asked with a laugh. No matter how many times she looked at the menu, she always ordered the same thing. “One of these days I’m going to switch up my order.”
“I’m still waiting for that day,” Brent said, punching keys on the register. “By the way, I made sure to keep your favorite table empty.”
Layla leaned across the metal counter and whispered, “I told you that you don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t care,” Brent whispered back.
They both laughed, with her shaking her head, and then she paid for the meal. He was too nice, but she appreciated that he looked out for her. Sometimes the shop could get really full and there would be nowhere to sit, or she’d get stuck sitting at a table in the middle of the dining room, which she hated. The table he’d secured for her with aReservedsign was in a corner where she could look out at the street.
Later, she slowly ate her meal while scrolling through the financial app on her phone, happy to see her portfolio was performing nicely. She’d have to thank Ethan for the stock tips he’d given her a month ago. As a financial advisor, Rashad used to give her a lot of advice, but now she—
“Stop it,” Layla muttered. She’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t get caught up thinking about Rashad or the past and needed to keep it.
After finishing her meal, she left a generous tip before waving and leaving for the short walk back to her place. She was halfway home when she saw Rashad exiting a yellow Porsche illegally parked at the curb. A sports car, flashy like him. He used to own a red one, and when she pointed out that type of vehicle didn’t seem like a financially prudent purchase, he said everyone needed to have a toy, and it brought him pleasure. He more than made up for the indulgence by being smart about other investments of his money.
Her footsteps slowed, and when his gaze landed on her face, her heart stuttered. Somehow, she remained in motion, on autopilot rather than with any real sense of what she was doing.
Rashad strolled toward her, the epitome of big-dick energy, and he never looked more so than when he was dressed casually, like now. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue Henley that showed off his defined chest and arms. His sexy, swaggerlicious stride turned heads, and his mannerisms conveyed he was not only good in bed, he could make you forget all others while you wept tears of ecstasy. She knew because it had happened to her.
“Mind if I walk with you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He fell into step beside her anyway, undeterred by her frosty reception.
“What are you doing here?” Layla asked, keeping her eyes on the sidewalk in front of them.
“I knew I’d find you this morning. You’re a creature of habit, and I see nothing’s changed. I thought about joining you for breakfast, but I know how much you like your Saturday morning ritual, so I decided to wait until you finished eating.”
“How nice of you,” Layla said sarcastically.
“You still having a large coffee, a blueberry muffin, and a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and dill?”
Layla came to an abrupt stop. She really needed to change up her choices. Next week for sure. “What’s the point of reciting what I like to eat, Rashad?”
“You’re the same, Layla. Nothing’s changed—except your phone number.”
“You finally called.”
“Yes. Last night you didn’t mention that your number had changed.”
“If you’d cared to call before, you would have known that,” she pointed out.
