Page 66 of The Tryst

“I do,” I say.

“Good because I play it for all myfriends,” she says, a grin on her gorgeous face again. “But it’s kind of alt. Can you handle it?”

I roll my eyes. “We are not that far off music wise.”

“You like polka, right?” she teases.

I narrow my eyes. “I’d like to spank you for that.”

Her eyes spark. Maybe she wants a spanking. Maybe I want to give her one. But now’s the time for music rather than kink, and she hits play on the song.

It’s sultry and sexy, full of longing.

I don’t tell her I’m feeling unfriendly as I imagine the song playing in a club, pulling her close, kissing the back of her neck, and whispering sweet, dirty nothings in her ear, then taking her home and letting all those dirty nothings keep us up all night.

* * *

When David returns an hour later, I’ve given myself a medal for restraint. Look at me, world. I’m aces at resisting my son’s friend.

Yeah, that’s called basic decency.

The three of us catch up on the auction details, and when we’re done, Layla gathers her canvas bag from the living room. “And I’m going to prep for tomorrow’s video shoots. Winged eyeliners don’t make themselves,” she says.

I look away because some days, it’s damn hard putting on a poker face.

Like when I think about the first time we talked about winged eyeliner…and other first times.

“Did I tell you Cyn loves your videos?” David says as he walks her to the door, while I head to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. “Maybe we can double date with Kip. My mom told me about the date.”

Wait.

What in the ever-loving hell?

“I had no choice. I had to throw her a bone,” Layla says, with awhat can you dosigh in her voice.

But what the helldidshe do?

“I can’t believe they wanted you to go with him to the auction,” David says as I pick up a pan to clean.

Oh, hell no. She’d better not bring a date there. I scrub the pan harder.

“You can’t believethat? They tried to set us up again,” Layla says with a laugh.

“Fair point. I shouldn’t put anything past the matchmaker twins,” he says.

Out of the corner of my eye, he hugs her, and a plume of jealousy rages in me. But this fire isn’t over my son.

It’s over this asshole Kip.

“Bye, Nick,” she calls out as she leaves.

“Bye, Layla,” I bite out, and I hope, I really fucking hope, my irritation doesn’t show through.

When David strides into the kitchen, he gives me a look like he can smell my annoyance. “You okay?”

I need to get it together. “Just this damn pot. Needs so much scouring,” I mutter as I attack the clean surface. Then, because I am obsessed, no matter how hard I try to fight it, I give in a little more. “So your mom tries to set up your friends?”

David laughs, like this is nothing to him. “Evidently. Layla’s mom does it to her too. She’s got a date with that guy after the auction.”

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