The event room is brightly lit with pastel pink accent lights climbing the walls. There are at least a dozen round tables scattered about, covered with white tablecloths, sequin overlays, vases filled with water, and flowers on top of it all.
Surrounded by people who probably have more money than God, I feel out of place. My dark slacks, white button-down shirt, and black tie look similar to those around me. However, like a shark finding blood in the water, somehow they know I don’t belong. People step to the side as I make my way to the bar, acting like I’ve got the plague. I’m out of my league here.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, not bothering to look up from the cocktail he’s mixing.
“Jack and Coke, please.”
The guy hands me my drink and I walk back towards my table. Pressing the cup to my lips, I swallow the whiskey in one gulp, welcoming the burn. This is going to be a long night.
“Good evening. If everyone could please find their tables, we’d like to get started,” a cheery voice calls through the speakers.
Layla stands at a podium on the stage, smiling at the crowd. Her eyes flit across the room, bouncing from one person to another, until they stop on me. Her gaze falls to her papers, cheeks flushing red, before darting up again.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. As you all know, Mary Herbert was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis last summer, a week before her eighth birthday. Cystic Fibrosis is a terrible disease that damages the lungs and digestive system. While scientists have had many breakthroughs, there is still no known cure, and medications are costly. All proceeds from tonight’s auction will go towards Mary’s never-ending medical bills.” Layla pauses, letting the crowd whisper amongst themselves before adding, “And now, I’m going to turn the stage over to Hank. Let the auction begin!”
The room erupts in applause as Layla steps to the side of the stage. The auctioneer, Hank, rambles off words and numbers at an alarming speed, while the runner delivers basket after basket to the highest bidders. Two hours later, the auction is over, and everyone is allowed to mingle again after dinner is served.
Layla skirts across the room to shake hands with patrons, eventually making her way over to me. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her arms wrapping around my neck for a brief hug.
“I thought I’d surprise you.” I grab the bouquet of flowers from under my seat and hand them to her. She bites her lip, surprise dancing in her eyes.
“You’re sweet.” Layla looks behind her as an older woman calls her name. The woman frowns and beckons her with a wave. “I should get back to making my rounds, but I’m glad you came.” She turns, heading back to her guests, then looks over her shoulder to add, “Don’t leave before saying goodbye. Okay?”
“I’m exhausted.” Layla sags into the chair next to me. The fundraiser ended over an hour ago, but I stuck around to help with the cleanup. “You didn’t have to stay. Don’t get me wrong, your man-strength was amazing, but you have over an hour drive tonight.”
I chuckle, never having heard the phrase man-strength before.
I like it.
Hell, Layla could have called me a pussy and I’d probably like it, because that means she’s thinking about me. Every moment I’m on her mind is one more crack in the wall she’s built to keep me out. Sooner or later, I’ll break through it. “Each back-breaking minute was worth it since I got to spend more time with you.”
Layla throws a dirty napkin at me and grins. She grabs her bottle of water and takes a sip, then closes her eyes and drops her head against the back of the chair.
“So, about tomorrow…”
“What about tomorrow?” she asks, eyes still closed.
Reaching both arms above my neck, I stretch, a yawn escaping me. I’m fucking beat. One of the heifers gave birth today, but the calf got stuck. I had to physically yank the baby out so both of them wouldn’t die. Less than five minutes lat
er, it was like nothing had happened.
That was only a blip of my morning. The rest of the day was normal ranch work. Come daybreak, I’ll be out there again, feeding the horses and tending to the never ending bullshit. Thank fuck my day worker is on duty this weekend. I need a break.
“Now that the fundraiser is over, and just about everything is picked up, how about coming to spend the weekend with me?”
“Are we back to this?”
“Yup.”
Layla opens her eyes and sits upright. She chews on her bottom lip and stares at me. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”
I meet her gaze with a grin and shake my head. I’ve never tried this hard to land a chick, but no one has put me under a spell the way Layla has. It’s not even about sex. Although, I won’t complain if she wants to do that dance. I want to spend time with her, get to know her, and see where things go from there. “Nope.”
She stands and grabs the tablecloth to put in the box by her feet. “I can’t afford a hotel room.”
“Then stay with me.” Like I’d let her stay anywhere else. I pull the cover off the chair she was in, then stand to grab mine.
“Josh.” She pauses to drop the folded cloth in the box. She frowns, fighting through the war that’s written all over her face. She wants this, I know she does, but something is holding her back. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”