I tilt my head. “Why’d you assume that?”
“I heard you’re back with your high school sweetheart. You know, that criminal from that gang.” She sticks her nose up in the air and throws her long blond hair over her shoulder.
I snort and chuckle simultaneously. I can’t help it, but this really is the most lousy attempt to find out if the gossip is true. “You could’ve just asked me if it’s true if I’m in a relationship with Kyler. Which it isn’t, by the way, but I find it admirable that you’d want your daughter to go to the home of ‘that criminal from that gang’ to find out if what they say is true.” I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and smile sweetly. “I’ll see you around five?”
Her mouth drops open a little before she nods quickly. “Have fun, honey,” she barely utters to her daughter.
Shaking my head, I turn around and take the girls home, where I barely see them because they’re playing up in Rebel’s bedroom. Meanwhile, I quietly prepare dinner.
That evening, when Rebel’s bedtime ritual is done and I’ve got the evening to myself, I fill my glass with water.
I sit down, set my glass down on the coffee table, and grab my book. Just as I find the right page, the bell rings. With a frown, I lay my novel face down on the armrest.
Who could that be?
An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. I’m not expecting anyone. It can’t be Teagan, because she’s home. She just sent me a message showing that.
With my slippers on, I walk to the door and I pull it ajar, with the chain still on it won’t open far.
A shiver runs through me as my gaze drops to my visitor. A black tank top strains around a powerful chest, a leather cut over it. Tattoos of black roses peek out from under the fabric and extend to his upper arm. His dark-blond hair is neatly combed back and his straight jawline is somewhat hidden by his short beard. Fuck.
With a bang, I close the door, to slide off the chain like crazy. Then I open the door again and grab the vest to pull him into my house. I peered through the crack to see if any neighbors had noticed. This time I close the door with a little more control and hope I didn’t wake Rebel.
Then I turn and with arms crossed I turn my most deadly stare to Kyler. “What are you doing here?” I bark at him.
“Hello to you, too, Layne.” A wide grin appears on his face and his eyes slide over me from head to toe, like I’m being objectified. Ugh. “I was wondering if we could talk.”
“Talk?” I spit, but it takes effort to keep my tone venomous. The jerk looks even better than the last time I saw him. Which is about ten years ago. “Why would I want to talk to you?”
Without answering my question, he walks deeper into my house as if he is quite familiar with it. His gaze slides from left to right and from bottom to top in the living room. “Nice home, honey,” he says approvingly.
“I’m not your honey.” With quick steps, I make sure I catch up to him and give him a furious look. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
With a deep sigh, he drops onto my new gray couch and picks up my book. “Still reading that romance shit.” His gaze glides over the pages, flipping through them with his thumb.
Gritting my teeth, I tilt my hip, tapping my fingers on my elbow. “Kyler, get to it and leave.”
“Well, this lady is definitely getting to it. A climax.” He raises an eyebrow. “Laynie, why didn’t you call me if you needed something?” A dirty grin appears on his face.
“Bloody hell, Kyler,” I say with a deep sigh.
A chuckle sounds. “Bloody hell? You switched nationalities?”
I throw my hands up and stomp across the kitchen to the doorway to the hall, where I point at the front door. “I’ve got a seven-year-old daughter and am trying to watch my language. Get out.”
His face falls. “Connor.” He puts the book back in place and then looks at me with an intense gaze.
He instantly gets my attention. Connor’s name to me is like a bone to a dog. “What does my husband have to do with it?” If that jerk uses his name to stay, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands.
“Maybe you gotta drink for me?” Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he looks up at me.
“Damn Ky, answer the question.” I ball my hands into fists and press my nails into the palms to prevent myself from twisting his neck.
He blinks. “Now, if you give me a drink, I can tell you the whole story. I was hoping his name would pique your interest in what I have to say.”
I let out an exasperated groan, turn around and march to the refrigerator. This man is truly unbelievable. A decoy with a name to bribe me for a Coke.
But what if he knows more about Connor, Layne?The little voice in my head whispers. At the same time I can’t help but think that he’ll give me some stupid story about where Connor is, since he’s supposedly disappeared and that I can’t vouch for myself. Furiously I pour a full glass, gouging my countertop, but I don’t care. Stomping, I turn back and slam the glass down, which causes more of his drink to spill over the rim.
