Page 153 of Breaking Point
Layla nods feverishly. “I know, so tell me why he grosses me out but at the same time I want to lick his face?”
My jaw drops open. “Layla!”
She shrugs, holding up her hands in surrender. “I know, okay? I know! That’s why I was mean. I was hoping if I shut him down and ignored him the little stomach flips would go away, but then he just got smart with me and I don’t know why but that turnedme on even more.” She snaps her head up. “His eyes twinkled, Bella.Twinkled!”
I can’t help it, I laugh at her outburst.
She stomps her foot, whisper-hissing at me, “This isn’t funny!”
“But it is,” I say around a chuckle.
“All this time I’ve been judging these women for sleeping with him and then crying about how he wants nothing more, and then here I am in the flesh with him and my body reacts the same way!”
“He is charming, I’ll give him that much.”
“I feel gross.”
My brow quirks.
Layla relents, “Fine, I feel gross that Idon’tfeel gross in his presence.” She licks her lips. “And it was…fun, teasing him. I’ve never teased a boy—no,man—before.”
I wink. “Fun, isn’t it?”
“I hate to say it, but I absolutely understand his sex appeal now.”
“At least you won’t be here much longer to fall under his spell.”
“I wouldnever,” she snaps. “I can admit he’s attractive but he’s slept with more women than I’ve evenmet.”
My phone rings, its shrill sound cutting off what I was about to say next. Taking it out of my bag, I realize it’s the hospital.
“Shit, Lil, sorry. I have to take this.”
She waves me off, bending to pat Bambi. “That’s fine, Bambi and I will be commiserating over dogs.”
Snorting, a smile is on my face until I remember who exactly is calling.
“Hello, Bella speaking.”
“Hi, Miss Stratford?” a young female voice asks.
“Yes, this is she.”
A ruffle of paperwork comes over the line. “My name’s Mary, I work in the financial department at St. Luke’s Hospital. How are you today?”
My heart plummets.Did my wire transfer bounce? Has the price for the drug gone up?
“I’m well,” I murmur, too sick to my stomach to do polite small talk.
“Very well! I’m happy to be calling today to inform you that you were selected by an anonymous donor who has footed the bill for your mother, Mrs. Trisha Stratford, in full.”
Her cheery voice has my mind coming to a screeching halt. “F-footed the bill?” I stutter.
She’s talking as if someone just paid for my drink at Starbucks, not a bill costing hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Layla, hearing the utter disbelief in my voice, stands, worry lining her freckled face.
“Yes, that’s right, ma’am. The entire bill. It’s your lucky day, Miss Stratford. Congratulations to you and your mother! I’ll be sending over your copy of the receipt. Would you like that to be sent via email or physical mail?”
