Page 10 of Her Filthy Grump

“I can walk to my house without getting into trouble.”

“Can you?” I slowly shift my attention to her, and my heart lodges into my throat. Her pink-tinted lips are a perfect bow, and the bottom one juts out into a pout.

Shit.I want to fist her long auburn hair and dive into her mouth. All the blood in my body surges to my dick.Take her home. And leave. Do not fall under her spell.

There’re too many reasons to count to stay away from Layla. She’s reckless. She’s irresponsible. She’s pretending too hard to be perfect. She’s forbidden. But most importantly. I. Don’t. Do. Relationships.

“Yes. I can walk to my house without getting lost.”

I study her face for several seconds, and then I drop her arm. “Fine. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” She straightens her shoulders, snaps her feet together, and salutes.

I twist on my heel. “What a pain in the ass.” My voice is low enough that she can’t hear it.

When I arrive at the back of the house, the guys are boarding up the window. Gavin waves. “We got lucky. Mabel left her skillet on the stove again, and the grease caught fire. Thankfully, the only damage is the wall between the kitchen and the back porch. And these windows.”

“Does this happen often?” I grab a nail and a hammer. After I walk to the other side of the board, I tap the nail into the wood to secure it.

“At least every couple of months. Usually in the mornings after she’s cooked breakfast.”

My heart thuds in my chest. The last thing I need to do is worry every damn day about Layla. With her living next door, she’s likely to toss on her cape and rush to their rescue. Repeatedly. “Shouldn’t they be in an assisted living home or something?”

“It’s probably about time.” Gavin crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll have a talk with them and mention it to their son, Henry. Mabel’s getting more forgetful by the day.”

I step to the corner of the house and glance down the side yard. A man wearing jeans and a skintight black T-shirt slaps his arm over Layla’s shoulders and grins down at her.

She waves her hands in the air as she motions to the house. The guy drops his arm and raises his hand in the air. When they high-five, the pain in my shoulder feels like it’s stabbing me.

I drop the hammer. “I’ll be right back.”

The damn girl doesn’t listen to anything.As I weave through the crowd, I ignore the blatant stares from the gathered crowd.

I march up to her, lean down, and growl in her ear, “You said you were going home.”

“I’m in my yard.” She gazes at me like I’m dense. The dude she was talking to gives me a look like he wants to punch me in the mouth, but he’s smart enough not to try.

Fuck. I’m acting like an idiot. Because of her.“Gavin’s going to try and convince your neighbors to move to a nursing home or an assisted living facility. In the meantime, don’t grab your cape and go in to rescue them. Call me.”

“Call you?” She flutters her eyelashes. “Anytime? Day or night?”

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.” This time I don’t mutter it, and my entire body tightens with desire. I can’t decide if I want to toss her over my knee and swat her ass or throw her over my shoulder, take her inside, and fuck the good out of her. Adrenaline rushes through me.

Shit. It’s both.“Don’t be a savior.”

She bites her bottom lip, and I twist on my heel. Get the fuck away before you do something you’ll regret. She’s like all the other females in the world. I can’t even trust her to go inside the damn house.

Chapter Seven

Layla

The next day, I try to mind my own business. Ethan Campos called to see if I could grab him some coffee and bring it over to his house, and I politely told him no. I show up on time for my shift. I don’t look across the street at the park–Gertrude is on her own today.

As I wipe down the counter, I’m still trying to decide if I have a savior complex. Last night, I stared at the ceiling for hours, debating my past and the decisions I’ve made. Fine. I spent a few minutes tossing the idea around. The rest of the time, I spent fantasizing about Kameron.

In those daydreams, I know him intimately. You’d think I’d have at least found out his last name before we were locked in each other’s arms with our tongues shoved down each other’s throats. But for now, he’s Kameron–the asshole, who dream-kisses damn good for a grumpy jerk.

When the door dings, I glance up.Delaney.I love Gavin’s wife about as much as I adore my cousin. I move to the edge of the counter.

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