a fist into his belly and pulling his guts from his navel.
Yeah, he’d talk about kissing Layla and everything it shouldn’t mean all night long, rather than that. But then she was silent long enough for him to think she’d abandoned uncomfortable topics altogether. Whew.
The relief came too soon, however. Because finally her head swiveled his way and words tumbled out. “I wondered—worried that you felt...well, guilty, or, I don’t know, disloyal because we kissed.”
“What?” He frowned. “Disloyal?” He’d felt aroused and agitated and like a goddamn saint for putting her away from him.
“Because of that woman.” She took her hand from his thigh. “The one you wanted to marry.”
Vance let out a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, baby, you do ask the funniest questions.”
“You said you’d answer.”
Oh, what the hell, he thought, and found himself laying it out for her, something he hadn’t told anyone, not even the guys whom he considered brothers, the men he would have bled for, died for. The men whose wounds he’d bound. “I don’t feel the slightest bit of loyalty to Blythe. That’s the name of the ex. She sent me a Dear John letter a month after I’d returned to Afghanistan.”
Looking up at the sky, he laughed again. “Two weeks later I received another letting me know she was already dating someone else. My brother. The one and only Fucking Perfect Fitz.”
* * *
THE MORNING AFTER THE fruitless wait for the sunset’s green flash, Layla was stepping into Beach House No. 9 from the sliding glass door when she heard knocking on the front entrance at the other side of the house. Because she’d been at the food truck since dawn, she was unsure of the whereabouts of the other inhabitants, and hurried forward, only to see Vance place his hand on the knob and pull open the door.
Whoever was on the other side caused him to freeze. Curious—the visitor was obscured by his wide shoulders—she continued toward him and peeked around his body. An attractive middle-aged blonde was staring at him, her blue eyes wide.
Vance released a sigh. “Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked, his tone aggrieved.
“I...” Her gaze flicked from her son’s face to his cast and brace and she swallowed. “My car broke down.”
“And you just happened to be at Crescent Cove when you experienced your little automotive malfunction.”
“Well...” The woman’s slender back straightened. She wore a simple white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and as Layla watched she seemed to plant her sandaled feet a little firmer on the concrete stoop. “Yes.”
“I’ll call you a tow truck.”
“I took care of that,” his mother said hastily. “I just need a ride back to the ranch.”
Vance radiated tension. “Absolutely not.”
An expression of anguish flickered over the woman’s face. Layla flinched in sympathy, but then she took a silent step back. This was none of her business. After what Vance had told her on the beach last night, she’d sworn off efforts at facilitating a Smith family reconciliation. Not now that she’d heard the details of his breakup with his fiancée.
Two weeks later I received another letting me know she was already dating someone else. My brother. The one and only Fucking Perfect Fitz.
He’d said he no longer felt loyalty to the ex. As if he didn’t still love her.
Layla was having a hard time believing a word of it.
Without daring to breathe, she took another step back, but the movement must have caught the eye of the woman on the other side of the door. Tilting her head, she met Layla’s gaze and stretched out slim fingers. “I’m Vance’s mother, Katie Smith.”
Her son turned to glare at Layla as she moved forward to shake hands. Well, what else could she do? “Layla Parker,” she murmured, then sent Vance a swift glance. “Uh, excuse me. I was just on my way to—”
“Surely you have a few minutes to chat,” Mrs. Smith said, propelling herself past her son. “You can show me around this pretty bungalow.”
Behind her, Vance groaned. “It’s rooms and a view.”
His mother tucked her arm in Layla’s elbow and steered her farther into the house. “I’d love to see them.”
“Don’t bother resisting,” Vance called out, trailing behind. “She’s a bulldozer. Mom, three minutes, and then I’m calling you a cab.”
Ignoring her son’s remark, she came to a halt in the sunny living room. “Oh,” she said, staring out at the ocean. “It’s beautiful.” Wearing a smile, she swung around to face Vance. Her gaze dropped to his