Laiyla jumps on the back of the truck, standing on the bumper, holding on to the tailgate. It’s a game we used to play as kids, and the smile she’s wearing says she’s thinking the same thing. I can’t help but laugh. She’s still got that mischievous streak, which probably doesn’t bode well for me.
“Took you long enough, Asher,” she says, her breathing quick, her gaze meeting mine in the side mirror. “How do you stay in business?”
I continue into the parking lot, and when I come to a stop, Laiyla jumps off the bumper, walks a few circles, hands on hips, catching her breath from her run. By the time I get out of the cab, she’s bent, hands on knees.
I shut the door, and she straightens. I try to keep my gaze from rolling over her, I really do, but it’s inevitable. She’s wearing a sports bra dressed up with all sorts of designs and straps, and runner’s shorts that are extra short, barely covering her ass and waisted low, showing off her flat abdomen a good two inches beneath her belly button. Damn, the girl has a body. Sweat glistens on her golden skin, and I’m seriously regretting this whole situation.
If there’s a spark, fan the flame. See what happens.
I know exactly what will happen. I’m just not sure what the fallout would be. But after suffering the aftermath once before, I don’t want to know either.
“You’re certainly chipper,” I say, leaning against the door to my truck. “This isn’t the tense woman who showed up a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yeah.” She straightens and rests her hands at her hips. “This place always has that effect on me. So, what’s the verdict?”
I reach in the cab and pull out the proposals, holding them up.
Laiyla laughs and pushes her fists overhead. “Yes!”
Her smile makes my body vibrate like a rung bell. She holds her hand up for a high-five, and I meet her palm with my own, but when I drop my hand, she doesn’t let go. For an eternal moment, we stand there, holding hands, neither of us pulling away, gazes locked.
Oh, hell yeah, there are definitely sparks.
Her gaze sobers, and she gives my hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”
Shit just got a little too real for me. I draw my hand from hers. “Have time to look this over?”
“I’ve got nothin’ but time.”
“You’re adjusting to the change from corporate to country well.” We wander toward the dock that broke that first day. “Got it fixed, huh?”
“KT.” She walks to the end and sits down, and I take a seat beside her. The dock here is high, so our feet dangle over the water. “She’s got two of the outboards on the pleasure boats working, and she’s fixing plumbing and tanks on two of the houseboats so that we can all have our own space.”
“Those are interesting skills for a woman.”
“She’s a marine engineer. Works on cruise ships. She’s between gigs for a month, but if we do this, she’s going to quit.”
“And Chloe?” I ask.
She chuckles. “Chloe is…different, but in the coolest way. She’s a self-taught spiritual guru of sorts. Hit number one on the bestsellers list with her first book and stayed there for almost a year. She’s at a crossroads, so to speak, and if we do this, she’ll stay and work on her next book. KT is our mechanical genius, Chloe is our event coordinator, and I’m in charge of PR. Everything else we work out together by majority vote.”
“Interesting arrangement. How did you meet them?”
“Cyclone, of all things. Did you hear about Cyclone Bethany in the South Pacific seven years ago?”
“Yeah. I was in Dubai, and we always watched the weather.”
She smiles, and her relaxed demeanor makes it that much easier to be with her. Her skin glows from her run, color stains her cheeks, and her eyes spark with life. She’s fucking breathtaking.
“We were all on Niue at a retreat, right in the path of the eye of the cyclone. I quickly learned that the eyewall of the storm causes the most damage, and we got it on all sides. It devastated that little island.”
I lift my hand and slide a knuckle over the scar on her temple. “That’s where you got this.”
“Yeah. Man, such a crazy life event.” She shakes her head and looks down at the water, swinging her feet. She seems so young all of a sudden.
“So,” she draws out the word, “I saw Tina at Aiden’s.”
My eyes roll back in my head and my shoulders slump as I mutter, “Jesus.”