Though his nerves stretched tauter, Vance refused to give an inch. But he should have known the little soldier facing him wouldn’t crack easy, either, and several strained minutes passed.
Finally, she huffed again. “Just move out of the way and I’ll put these in the kitchen.”
Stepping aside, he let her go by. Relief buckled his knees and he braced an arm on the wall to keep himself upright. Okay. Okay. At least he’d gotten her this far.
After a moment, he took a breath and followed her into the kitchen. She whirled as he approached and pressed back against the countertop. He didn’t hesitate to get into her personal space.
The woman had wormed her way into places he hadn’t planned on, hadn’t she?
Layla touched the tip of her tongue to her top-heavy upper lip. “Uh, I hope you weren’t concerned about the cupcakes.”
“I knew you’d keep your promise.”
She flushed. “Still, I didn’t want anyone to worry. I called your mom and explained that I’d be dropping them off to you.”
“So she said.”
“Oh.” Her head bobbed up and down. “That’s right. You’re, um, patched up with them now, aren’t you? Did I tell you how great I think that is? It’s great. Really, really great.”
“It is,” he agreed, “though it’s only half of what I want.”
Her brows pinched together. “I’d think you have everything now. Is something wrong with the job at Smith & Sons?”
“No.”
She studied his face with her big brown eyes. “Well, I would have thought you’d be in a better mood then. Is it Fitz and Blythe’s engagement—”
“I’m ecstatic for them.”
“You don’t sound like it,” Layla said, frowning. “Though I can imagine it’s hard to get over—”
“If you mention another word about Blythe I’m going to strangle you.”
“Well, you were the one engaged to the woman,” she said in a snotty voice.
Her tone made him ease a little more. “I was stupid about that,” he confessed, and figured he owed her a better explanation. “I didn’t care about her for herself...I saw her as my ticket back into the family—and also as a poke at Fitz.”
“Oh,” Layla said.
“And I’ve apologized for it.” He smiled a little. “All’s forgiven, even though she’s signed herself up for a lifetime with my fucking perfect big brother.”
Layla made a face. “You don’t fool me. You love him.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. Then they stared at each other for another long minute. His nerves cinched again, going so tight he heard a high whine in his ears. “So—”
“I’ve got to be going,” she said.
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I have something to give you. Don’t take a step.” Not trusting her to do as bid, he hurried away.
And she did move. His stomach swooped at the sight of the empty kitchen, but then he found her in the living room, her gaze focused out the glass slider. The sun was hovering at eye level in that odd, breathless manner it had of seeming to stay glued in place before taking its last precipitous dash for the horizon.
He came up behind her, close enough to smell the sweetness of cupcakes on her skin. “Layla,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
It made her jump and before he could stop her she was out the door and onto the deck. Gritting his teeth, Vance stalked behind her, following his prey until her belly was pressed against the railing.
Impatient now, he grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face him. “Here,” he said brusquely. “This is for you.”
She glanced down at the frame he pushed into her hands and then her gaze came back to his. “What?”
Was she blind? “It’s the Helmet List. The one your dad gave to me. I had it framed, along with a couple of photos. One is the picture of you he always carried.”
Her head bent again as she studied the item. The art shop had mounted the simple lined notepaper on a special backing. It took center stage, the crease marks and smudges of dirt and sweat still apparent. On the upper left, he’d had them place a photo of her father, something he’d taken from Griffin’s stash. On the lower right was little-girl Layla, the child he’d expected to host at Beach House No. 9.
The woman he’d fallen in love with looked up. “I...” She lifted one hand from the frame and made a helpless gesture. “Thank you. I...I’ve got to go.”
All his muscles and tendons seized. He opened his mouth, trying to recall a single one