Secret Heart

by Amity Lassiter

  "See you in the morning, hun."

  "Later Ker." Nate watched Kerri's back as she descended the stairs light and easy, then looked back at Layla.

  She wore a white sundress with a tiny flower print that offset dark skin that had clearly already seen a lot of summer sun. It hit just above the knee, exposing long, shapely calves. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, not unlike that first night he'd seen her at Danny's. Mason grabbed a fistful of it and she gently extracted it from his fingers, then brushed his own hair off his forehead, swinging her gaze to meet Nate's.

  "You wanna come in?"

  It sounded like a challenge.

  He never backed down from a challenge.

  "Yes." Didn't matter the challenge was exactly what he'd wanted in the first place.

  She pushed open the screen door and he followed her into the house. It was as he'd imagined—tidy, but dated. The furniture inside was relatively sparse, mismatched, and aged, but when he glanced again at Layla, he could see defensive pride. She'd pulled herself up by her bootstraps and she was providing not only for herself, but her son. It was the same reason she wouldn't let him look after her car repairs.

  "It isn't fancy." It sounded like another challenge.

  "Who you looking to impress anyway?" He dropped the lasagna and garlic bread off on the kitchen counter while she buckled Mason into a high chair next to the kitchen table. The unreadable look she gave him as she moved around him to turn on the oven prompted more words, a little more serious this time. "I meant what I said yesterday. You've done well for yourself. You should be proud."

  "Do you wanna stay to eat?" she asked, turning from the cupboard with a couple of plates in hand, clearly more interested in changing the subject than asking him to stay. He smiled.

  "Sure. Let me know what I can do to help."

  —NINETEEN—

  The evening moved past faster than anticipated, and once she warmed up a little, and saw the easy, inclusive way Nate interacted with Mason, Layla was finally able to relax a little. She was so used to quiet evenings alone she hadn't even realized how much she would like company. The fact that it was Nate Montgomery's company made it even a little better. They chatted about anything and everything, carefully dancing around too much talk of Mason or her pregnancy, or the reason Nate was in town, which she attributed to his wreck. When the conversation lulled, Mason entertained them with his antics, and before she knew it, it was nearing the baby's bedtime.

  She got a washcloth and did the best she could with his hands and face, and turned to Nate, at odds. She was surprised to find she wasn't quite ready for him to go home but knew it might be awkward to just sit in her kitchen waiting while she went through the nighttime routine, which included a bath, a nurse, and a little quiet time in the rocker.

  He stood and gathered up the plates and cutlery from the table. "How about I make some coffee?"

  She smiled. "I won't be long. He usually goes down easy."

  "Take as much time as you need," Nate responded, moving back into the kitchen. There was no dishwasher, so, like he belonged there, he started filling the sink with water. She cradled the babbling baby against her heart for a minute, the ache there taking her by surprise. Blowing out a soft breath against the child's fine hair, she moved through the house toward the bathroom to get started.

  She didn't want to rush through their nighttime routine, because it felt like she had so little time with Mason already, but he made things blissfully easy, dozing off almost immediately after he nursed. She stood over his crib for a few extra minutes, watching him sleep, and feeling guilty about the pull of the man she could hear still moving around in her kitchen.

  The scent of fresh brewed coffee drew her down the hall, back into the kitchen where her dish drying rack was stacked with clean dishes, the coffee pot was full and waiting, her junk drawer stood open, and Nate Montgomery was tinkering with her dry goods cupboard door and a screwdriver. She took a second to drink him in, his t-shirt drawn tight over his shoulders, broad and expansive, tapering down to a narrow waist, a slice of which was exposed because of his lifted arms. The most perfectly fitted pair of jeans hung low on his hips, hugging every line of his back end and thighs in a way that left little to the imagination. The image of what that body looked like unclothed was all too close in her mind, a memory she hadn't been able to get rid of, that had only amplified since the scorching kiss in the front seat of his truck last night. The subtle muscle of his biceps, honed from years of hanging on tight to a bull rope, shifted under his tawny skin as he tightened the hinge she'd been meaning to get to for weeks.

  She thought she'd been quiet, but he must have heard her because he turned, smiling, and twisted the screwdriver one more time. "Hey, I just noticed this was loose when I got the coffee." He opened and closed the door a couple times to show her he'd repaired it. It had been loose and squeaky but moved freely and noiselessly now. Something checked off her never-ending to-do list.

  "You didn't have to."

  He let her finish this time, but when she was done, he tipped his head down, raising a brow. "You fed me, it's the least I can do."

  "Technically your Nan fed the both of us."

  He waved his hand in the air to dismiss that point, then dropped the screwdriver back into the junk drawer and bumped it closed with his hip. "Little guy sleeping?"

  She nodded, moving to the coffee maker where he'd set out two of her least chipped mugs, and pulled the carafe off the hot plate to pour them each a steaming cup. "He went down super easy. Big day, I guess. New friends."

  When she looked up to smile at him, Nate was standing close, and it did something funny to her heartrate. She blew out another slow breath, and he slid the mug closest to him off the table and lifted it as if in a toast. "To new friends." He took a swig, then tipped his head toward the door. "Porch?"

  Quickly stirring some sweetener from a crock jar on the counter into her coffee, she nodded. "Sure."

  They moved through the house quietly, and Nate held the door for her, letting it close gently so as not to make too much noise. She settled onto the bench Kerri had been sitting on when they arrived—it felt like a long time ago—Nate felt like a normal part of her after-work schedule already. He sat next to her, and she cupped her hands around the steaming mug, looking out over the lawn toward the road, quiet. She often did this on her own after a long work day, but his company felt right. There was no need for words.

  Eventually, he shifted beside her, sliding his arm along the back of the bench and over her shoulders, drawing her in close. She resisted at first, then let herself go. Because it was easy. Because it felt good. Right, even. She took in the clean, sharply masculine scent of him, felt the heat of his skin under the thin t-shirt he wore, and imagined she could even hear his heart beating at that proximity. He hadn't touched her this morning or tonight in the truck on the way home; not since the date, which meant he'd taken her proclamation about the type of thing she was looking for seriously, even if the wanting feeling growing deep in her belly hadn't.

  "Little slice of paradise," he said quietly.

  "Right now," she said with a laugh. "On any given day, it's not quite this peaceful. Or quiet. But I don't think I'd have it any other way."

  "It looks good on ya, Lay. Motherhood, I mean."

  Her heart thudded in her throat and she swallowed it down the best she could. She could feel the next question coming. Nate wouldn't ask 'who's the father?' He'd ask if he was, because he'd have to be an idiot not to realize the timeline worked. Instead, he surprised her.

  "And you're doing a hell of a job on your own. But you should let me help you out with the house."

  She glanced up at him, curbing her initial response to decline, like she'd been trying to this whole time. Instead, she considered, took a sip of her coffee, and thought about how little spare time she had to devote to all the little fixes that didn't actually cost much, like that cupboard door. He wanted to be her friend, and she needed as
many friends on her side as she could get. And maybe he needed a friend or two.

  "Okay."

  "I want to…wait…okay?"

  She chuckled, and shook her head.

  "Yes, okay. What's your going rate?"

  She felt his body relax a little at the same time he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Dinner once in a while?

  "That's hardly a fair wage."

  "All right, let me take you on a couple more dates. How about that?"

  His insistence was kind of endearing. And she was treading a dangerous line between being able to keep her secrets and falling clear off the ledge and right into love with him.

  "Sounds good."

  *

  Nate had never felt his soul as quiet as sitting on her porch with Layla curled up under his arm. After all the time he'd spent trying to convince her to go on just one date in the first place, seeing her so at ease with him felt good. A comfortable silence settled over them just like the dark night blanketing her lawn. This was a quiet part of town; he hadn't seen a car go by in at least an hour. There was a time when he couldn't have quieted his mind like this. He'd always be thinking about the next ride, the next rodeo; 'keeping his head in the game' is what he'd called it. Compared to this, it was overrated.

  He'd never imagined domesticity to be this comfortable. When Layla left to put Mason to bed and he found her loose cupboard door, fixing it gave him some purpose. And the way she looked at him when she'd come back out…well, that was worth a couple hundred hours of odd jobs for her. He'd always known her to be a nice girl, but tonight he'd seen her for what she'd become—a remarkable woman. He didn't have much to measure her against since he barely remembered his own, but by his estimation, Layla was one hell of a mother.

  And so natural—the way she spoke to and interacted with the baby. She'd clearly done a great job so far. Mason was cute, funny, and social. Not a bit shy, he'd rewarded Nate's efforts to befriend him with toothy grins and belly laughs that made him consider, for the first time in his life, what settling down and having a family of his own might be like.

  It had really never crossed his mind because he didn't have any fond memories that included a mother and father figure—just Nan. And she'd done a good job, but that didn't make him want for a family portrait of his own. Besides, it seemed impractical to make a living putting your life on the line every time you got into the chute when you had a wife and kids depending on you to come home in one piece. Now he was in a position where he wouldn't have to put his life on the line every day, but he didn't have the income to back up the idea of raising kids. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

  Either way, this little peek into Layla's life with Mason had been warm and comfortable. Something he hadn't expected.

  She shifted a little, taking in a deep breath and letting out a soft little noise before her breathing evened out again. She'd fallen asleep.

  He glanced down, and sure enough, her eyes were closed and her lips just slightly parted. Her fingers curled into the thin fabric of his t-shirt. There was something about a woman as strong, as determined as she was in the softness of sleep, her features slack, her breathing light. The opposite of the nose-to-the-grindstone, cautious woman she was when she was awake.

  Nate hated to disturb her, but if he didn't go home tonight, Nan would give him some serious side eye. He was a grown man, but as far as he was concerned, so long as Nan was lending the use of the basement apartment to him free of charge, he owed her the respect of letting her know where he was, and he hadn't planned to stay out all night. Even though sitting here, holding Layla until sunrise sounded a hell of a lot more tempting than the sad double bed in his grandmother's basement.

  She was so peaceful, and so close. He gently slid her coffee cup out of her clutched hands, dipped his head, held his breath, and brushed his lips over her hairline. Not with the intent to wake her, but because he couldn't help himself. Her hair smelled of honeysuckle and citrus, and she was so soft and warm.

  He shifted a little, hoping that would rouse her, but she slept through it. Pressing his lips together, he slid his hand over her hair, onto her shoulder, and gave her a little squeeze.

  "Hey Lay…"

  She drew in a sharp breath and her eyes opened. She didn't lift her head right away, but as her eyes focused on his, she smiled. It went all the way to her eyes.

  "Hey," she said, her voice rough with sleep. "I fell asleep. What time is it?"

  "Late enough," he replied quietly. "Nan's gonna wonder where the hell I am."

  Slowly stretching her body like a cat, she sat up. His body missed her warmth almost immediately. "Well thanks for staying for dinner."

  He wasn't stupid enough to think it hadn't made her uncomfortable at first; she hadn't wanted him to stay—he should have been the one thanking her.

  "I really enjoyed it. Thanks for feeding me. And for introducing me to Mason. You're raising a heck of a kid."

  She smiled, a tiny yawn escaping as she straightened her clothes and smoothed her hands over her hair.

  "I can't take all the credit. Or even most of it. Kerri does a good job with him. And Nan, when Kerri isn't around."

  "What's that saying about it taking a village?"

  "Yeah," she nodded, slowly drawing to her feet. "I'm lucky to have such a good village. I honestly don't know how I could do it without them."

  He got up, too, the realization striking him that he wanted nothing more than to be a part of her village.

  "Then I'm glad Nan and Kerri have got you." He smiled, reaching out to slide a hand down her arm again. She lingered in the space between his arm and his chest, looking for a kiss, no doubt. And how easy it would have been to step forward, close his arms around her, and taste her sweetness. But the timing wasn't right. Not yet. It didn't matter how badly he needed to kiss her—she needed this message of value and worthiness more than he needed to kiss her. "Goodnight, Layla."

  —TWENTY—

  Layla sat back in the passenger seat of Nate's truck and glanced over at him as they turned in her driveway. She'd fully expected him to pick her up in her own car after work today, but the parts were delayed, he told her. She'd enjoyed dinner with him so much the night before that she wasn't bothered, and by the casual way he steered with one wrist over the steering wheel and the other slid along the seat behind her, neither was he. When she saw her mother's boxy gold sedan sitting in the yard next to Kerri's, she wished she had her own car and Nate was fifty miles away. Right. Thursday.

  When she'd agreed to the visit, she hadn't known Nate would be around. That he'd be driving her to and from work all week. That she'd fall asleep with her head on his chest and his heart beating under her ear, feeling more comfortable and safe than she had in years. All things she wanted to hide from her mother. In truth, she hadn't even expected the visit to actually happen, based on her mother's track record.

  The woman was sitting on the front porch with Mason on her knee. Kerri sat next to her and they both had tall glasses of what looked like lemonade. Damn those Baylors for instilling so much hospitality in her babysitter.

  Nate put the truck in park and before she could raise an objection, he was unbuckling his seatbelt and pushing the driver side door open. Damn Nan Montgomery for raising the boy with manners.

  Rhonda rose, swinging Mason onto her hip, and smiled as Nate approached the porch, Layla two steps behind with her heart in her throat. Despite a lifetime with her mother, it was hard to guess what she'd say or do at any given time. Kerri got up, grabbing her computer bag from the spot it had been resting beside the bench. No matter how much hospitality and kindness the Baylors had trained into her, she'd clearly had enough of Rhonda Sullivan. Layla didn't blame her. The younger girl gave Mason a quick kiss and started down the stairs. Layla reached out and squeezed Kerri's arm as she passed by.

  "Later Ker."

  "Bye Lay… Mrs. Sullivan. Nate." The girl ducked her head as she stepped of the porch and headed toward her car. Layla made a
mental note to slip her a few extra bucks for the pain of having had to deal with her mother.

  "Mrs. Sullivan, I haven't seen you in ages. How the heck are you?" Nate extended his hand and Rhonda shook it, while Layla could barely contain the dread rising up from the pit of her stomach. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go. And why was he being so nice?

  "Nate." Her mother smiled broadly, obviously pleased with the attention. "I'm doing fine. It's nice to see you but I sure didn't expect you here." Rhonda shot a look, a questioning look at Layla. They weren't, by any measure, close enough at this point, for Layla to tell her mother about the date, even if she wasn't trying to protect him from her prying and manipulating.

  Layla forced a smile. "Nate's been running me back and forth as a favor to Nan. My car broke down this week and Nate's been hauling me around."

  "Oh honey, you know you could call me." The older woman jiggled the baby a little, all but ignoring Nate as she narrowed Layla in her eyes. This helpfulness had been noticeably absent for too long for Layla to fall for it.

  "I don't like to bother you." Her smile was so hard to maintain her cheeks ached. Nate shifted beside her. "I know you're busy."

  "I'm glad to do it, Mrs. Sullivan," he insisted. "Not much else for me to do around here, anyway."

  Rhonda's eyes snapped to him, scrutinizing—entirely too calculating for Layla's liking. She ached to reach out for Mason and hug him to her chest, protecting him, but instead, she twisted her fingers together. The baby, on the other hand, was perfectly happy to twist his fingers in his grandmother's hair, though the word better described Nan's relationship with the child than Rhonda's.

  "That's right, you're fresh from Denver."

  "I've been home a couple weeks," Nate said with a nod. "But seeing as I haven't lived here permanently in a decade, it still feels pretty fresh."

  Layla shook her head in disbelief, watching Nate engage in small talk with her mother. Handsome, handy, friendly with Mason and able to field her mother? She was in trouble now.