She’s fucking stunning.
“Oh, we’ve met.” Layla extends her hand, a blush creeping up her cheeks, no doubt remembering our exchange in the barn.
I wonder if that blush is everywhere.
“Layla. Always a pleasure.” I take her hand, dropping a kiss on the back.
“How’s security shaping up?” Layla asks, sipping on a glass of champagne.
“Better now that I had a consultant help with the barn.”
“I’m sure they did a fine job helping you.”
“Aren’t you the security consultant?” Pierce interrupts.
“Nothing you need to worry about, mate.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Layla’s been a big help while I’ve been here.”
“You have?” Pierce asks her.
Christ. This man is oblivious sometimes.
Layla shrugs her shoulder. “Who better to help than someone who knows this place inside out?”
Charlotte loops her arm through Layla’s. “Let’s leave these two be. I want to hear more about your store.”
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you at The Tipsy Cocktail later?” she asks me as Charlotte pulls her over to see Ellie.
“I’ll be there.”
As if there would be any other place I’d go.
I want to know more about this woman.
And I’ll take it any way I can get it.
ChapterSix
LAYLA
The Tipsy Cocktail is hopping tonight. With the welcome dinner behind us, Blake and Gemma wanted to end the evening in a more relaxed atmosphere with just the younger generation.
Likely because they didn’t want Blake’s stuck-up mother to come. I spent five minutes with the woman and it was worse than spending it with Mrs. Bush. Or Brad.
The door opens and my entire body prickles with awareness. Stepping inside after my cousins and their wives is Simon.
Private security Simon. Not a paparazzo Simon.
His eyes scan the crowd. When they cross over me, he does a double take.
I sip on my drink—the Clara, the bar’s most popular drink—and try to look unaffected at his stare. I should be embarrassed at how I acted when I first met him, but when his eyes stay locked on mine? It’s hard to care.
There’s something there with Simon. A pull low in my belly. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Even after my divorce when I tried dating again, I didn’t feel this.
Like there’s a buzzing in my veins. Like every part of me wants to be near him. To feel him against me. To explore him.
“Hey, Layla.”
I’m swept up in a whirl of pink.
