Had he seen the address line on the email? Weeks back, she’d admitted to him that she’d been typing messages to her dead father. “I know it seems crazy, but—”
“Layla,” Uncle Phil said quietly. “I miss him, too.”
Ignoring the press of tears behind her eyes, she smiled softly, suddenly remembering sitting between her father and Phil at the kitchen table, playing hearts. The two men, so different in temperament and ambition, had come together seamlessly over one thing—Layla. They’d both cheated like crazy to ensure she always won.
On impulse, she hugged her uncle, and he gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder then moved away.
She watched as Uncle Phil took a seat at the small table adjacent to the baking area, drawing close one of his travel guidebooks. He opened it, but she didn’t think he was seeing the words any more than she’d absorbed her cupcake lineup.
Her uncle grieved for her father.
And it made her ache not only for him, but for what was going on between Vance and his brother. Sure, Fitz hadn’t been particularly polite to her, but the expression on his face as he’d looked at “V.T.” had spoken of something deep and painful running beneath the surface.
Of course, Vance hadn’t shed any light on the situation.
Of course, she hadn’t pressed, either. She had basically attached her hip to Addy’s and counted the minutes until she could escape to her room and try to figure out what came next.
Did he assume they’d share more kisses...and beyond?
Or were they going to pretend that night never happened?
Layla liked the latter option. It avoided embarrassing conversation. It was safe. Because no matter how attractive the man, how hot the kisses, two things stood out.
He was a soldier. And at the end of the month he’d be out of her life.
She glanced over at Uncle Phil. In a month, where would he be? He seemed to be more attentive to his book now, and was making notes in the margin. His lifelong dream of world travel was almost in his grasp.
When he left, who would Layla have?
Her mother had gone away long ago.
Her father was never coming home again.
A dark desolation threatened to sweep over her. She straightened her spine, holding steady against it. Don’t think about being alone, she told herself, pressing her fingertips to her forehead to contain a rising sense of panic. Instead, think about...think about Vance and his brother.
Fitz’s attitude and Vance’s near-violent tension told her there was great emotion there. A bond. And didn’t she, with so little family remaining, know its value? Instead of focusing on her loss, maybe she could do something to heal the rift between the combat medic and those who cared for him.
Crossing to her laptop, she flipped it open and gazed on the email she’d written to her father.
Dear Dad,
Did you send Vance to me for a reason?
Her fingers flew over the keys, altering the question.
Dear Dad,
Did you send me to Vance for a reason?
Love, Layla.
Then she clicked Send.
* * *
THOUGH HE’D BEEN WAITING on Layla’s return to Beach House No. 9, Vance jumped when she pushed open the sliding glass door and entered the living room from the deck. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“Did I scare you?” she asked.
He would never admit it. Instead, he grunted, lifting the newspaper in his lap and pretending absorption in the headlines. “You’ve made yourself scarce all day.” The sun was now low in the sky and as usual she’d left the house not long after dawn.
That’s when he’d finally managed a little sleep. In the dark hours of the night, when normal people took their shut-eye, he’d lain awake staring at the ceiling.
The only noise in the house had been the wet rush of the waves against the sand, but he could have sworn he heard Layla breathing, as well.
He’d imagined it, anyway, her breath warm on his bare chest as they lay entwined in his bed. The weight of her head on his shoulder had been nearly palpable, as well as the silky coolness of her hair between his fingers as he toyed with it in postcoital contentment.
Yeah, he’d imagined that, too—the whole thing, from foreplay to afterglow.
So the truth was, she scared him all right. Because, of all the promises he’d made her father, getting naked with the man’s daughter wasn’t one of them.
As Vance still pretended avid interest in the news of the day, the sofa cushion beside him bounced. Glancing over, he confirmed that Layla had taken the