Instead, I grab the shittiest six-pack of beer I can find from a cooler on the wall and turn into Laiyla’s aisle. She looks like she’s showered after her dunk in the lake, her hair straight, the top layer shining like spun gold, and she’s changed into something I suppose could be classified as a dress. Orange with white daisies all over, sleeveless with cutouts on the sides above the waist and a central tie in back, the little outfit exposes all kinds of amazing skin and so much of those long legs, I’m pretty sure her ass is covered by no more than an inch of fabric. And she’s wearing white sandals that tie in crisscrosses around her ankles, which I find ridiculously sexy.
At the opposite end of the aisle, Tim Dunphy approaches Laiyla with so much focused menace, he doesn’t notice me.
Laiyla’s leaning on the handle of her shopping cart, staring at the shelves of tea and coffee, and she looks up when Dunphy is about ten feet away. Her spine stiffens, but she doesn’t hide behind the cart or scurry away. She holds a posture that screams I can take anything you dish out, shoulders back, chin up, gaze direct.
“Mr. Dunphy,” she says, polite but formal.
Dunphy doesn’t stop until he’s a foot from Laiyla, which is way too close for me, but she still doesn’t back away. He uses a rigid index finger to jab the air between them, and my muscles coil, ready to spring if he touches her. But I’m also interested to see what she’s made of now.
“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Dunphy doesn’t pull any punches. “Lettin’ your granddaddy’s land go. That place used to be something to be proud of. Now it’s just a wart on the face of our town. Otto employed a lot of people, like my boy. It could still be employing a lot of people if you’d taken care of it the way your granddaddy expected you to.”
A lull falls. Dunphy is clearly waiting for her to react.
“I am,” Laiyla says.
I’m confused. So is Dunphy. “You are what?”
“Ashamed of myself. Does that make you feel any better?”
That rocks both Dunphy and me back on our heels. Then Dunphy goes back at her with even more venom. “Don’t you dare sass me. You’re a disgrace to this community and Otto’s memory. After all he did for you, you couldn’t even do the one thing he wanted most.”
I’ve had enough. Laiyla can clearly handle herself, but Dunphy’s out of line. And if I were being honest, I’d say I didn’t want the old bastard to scare her off quite yet.
“He loved you, and this is how you dishonor him?” Dunphy says, voice rising, clearly upset by Laiyla’s stoic calm. “By letting all he worked for go to shit?”
I approach and set my groceries on a nearby shelf in case I need my hands free. When my presence doesn’t end the confrontation, I say, “Enough,” and they both look at me like I appeared out of thin air. “You’ve said your piece. Now move on.”
Laiyla raises a hand, issuing me to stop, and turns back to Dunphy. “Mr. Dunphy, if you think the town feels the loss of my grandfather, how do you think I feel? It’s been difficult for me to return, and to be honest, the way you’re acting doesn’t give me any incentive to stay.” Dunphy’s taken aback again, and Laiyla ends the conversation with “Judge less, love more.”
“How dare you—”
“Tim,” I say, a warning in my voice.
He deflates, shoots another glare at Laiyla, and stalks off, muttering shit I can’t hear.
Laiyla releases a breath, and her expression shifts from ready for battle to chastised child.
I lift my brows. “Judge less, love more?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Chloe says it all the time. I haven’t figured out what the hell it means, though she’s told me a hundred times.”
“Is Chloe one of the girls you’re here with?”
“Yes.” She lets out a long breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not following you.” I drop my hand to the beer clearly out of place on the shelf beside coffee. “Can’t run out of beer.”
She closes her eyes with a shake of her head, then presses her fingers to her closed lids.
I watch Dunphy disappear, and when I look back at Laiyla, she’s staring at the company logo filling the front of my T-shirt. Her dress has a deep wraparound edge, laced with a ruffle, and the V exposes the plump lift of her breasts that make me want to drop to my knees and worship. “Did you find a place to stay?”
Her mouth tips, half smirk, half smile. “The girls want to stay at the lake, so we’re staying in one of the houseboats.”
My brows shoot toward the ceiling again, and I can’t help but smile at that image. “Have you looked at those boats? I mean, really looked?”
She nods. “And I talked to Mr. Artega. There’s one boat that’s livable—”
“The Roxie Blue.”