The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,15
hunting or the types of patients Julio saw in the ER.
The party hadn’t broken up until close to two, but another bottle had smoothed things over with Old Man Tran. His other neighbors didn’t complain, although he was on the receiving end of a few glares in the laundry room.
As for Laila, Mason had fully intended to drive her home from the hotel after her exams, but she’d texted him early Friday to say she didn’t need one. Then she’d slipped a sweet little thank-you note under his door this morning.
Chastising himself for his hesitation, Mason went inside, picking up a basket before wandering the aisles. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night, wondering if she was okay, hoping her exams had gone well.
He was just going to check on her. It wasn’t a big deal.
The grocery store was small compared to the major chains, but they made the most of the space. He started in the fruit, picking up rarities like dragon fruit and those little yellow mangos he had first seen in Mexico but had starting to pop up in local shops stateside a few years ago. The deli cases included meats and deliciously prepared meals. He selected a few before finally zeroing in on the bakery.
Gardullo’s was one of those places that prided itself on its homemade fresh baked goods. To drive the point home, it put the whole operation on display. The industrial ovens were in another room, separated by an open arch. It was laid out so you could see the whole space, showcasing the labor of their bakers. A long counter bracketed the arch with a glass display case chock full of pastries, pies, and cakes.
Laila was bent over the counter. She was spreading what appeared to be honey over a tray of dough with a brush. A clear plastic container with ground pistachios rested on the counter next to her.
“Are you making baklava?”
Laila gasped, her head flying up. The brush flew out of her hand, hitting the container of pistachios with enough force to knock it over.
“Sorry.” Mason winced. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Laughing, Laila scooped the pistachios into the container with one of her gloved hands. She dropped the brush into the sink before picking up a new one. “Unfortunately, I startle easily. My friend Rosamie loves running up behind me after class just to see me jump.”
The flush on her cheeks sent a tingle down his spine. An image of her underneath him, lips parted, flashed through his head. But it wasn’t a memory of when he tackled her in his living room. This time, she was in his bed.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Stop that.
“I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I would grab some grub,” he said, holding up his basket by way of explanation. “How did your exams go?”
“Fine, I think,” Laila said with a hapless shrug. “Well, at least I hope they did.”
“I’m sure you did fine,” he reassured her. “And you got back from the hotel okay?”
“Yes,” she said brightly, but then blushed as if she knew she’d responded too eagerly and with a touch too much volume. “I hope you don’t mind. That suite was too amazing not to share, so I asked Rosamie to stay with me after my exams. She drove me home the next day.”
“Not at all,” he said with a smile. “I remember the bathtubs were pretty nice.”
“It was huge.” Laila beamed, spreading her arms as wide as they could go. She wrinkled her nose. “But I’m surprised that’s what stood out for you, considering the competition—that humongous bed.”
His eyebrow rose.
“Not that I pictured you on the bed,” she burst out suddenly. “Not like that. Just you know—tall and blond with skin.”
“Skin?” he echoed, a trapped belly laugh making him shake.
She shook her head fiercely, tripping over her words. “No. I meant tall. Because long, err, body.”
Her lashes fluttering wildly, she broke off, slapping a hand over her mouth.
Mason bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud.
Holding up a finger, he cleared his throat, stalling until he could trust himself to speak.
“My feet do tend to hang over the edge of most beds, but I never had a problem at the Caislean, even in their standard rooms. But the tub stands out the most.”
Laila struggled to compose herself. “Really?” she squeaked. She coughed twice, but then a corner of her mouth lifted. “You don’t strike me as the bubble-bath type.”