“Awesome. Up top.” He raises his hand fully expecting my sister to slap him a high five. She turns away from us with a scowl and marches right back into the kitchen. “She’s really moody.”
“Yep. Come on in,” I say.
He remains in the entranceway not budging any farther. “Only if you promise nothing is getting dumped on my head next.”
I giggle. “I promise.”
“Good.” He closes the space between us. “I’ve been thinking …”
Oh no. This is never a good phrase. I brace myself for the blow.
Chapter Thirteen
Tyler
Layla looks as if she’s about to cry. What the heck did I do?
“Hey, please don’t cry, Layla,” I whisper, and move her into the living room.
“You’re going to break up with me, aren’t you?” She sinks down into a couch cushion.
I smirk. “Um. No. I was going to say I think maybe we should come up with a plan. If you decide to come to my family’s party, and it becomes overwhelming, we can give each other a signal.” I settle next to her.
“Like what? Fake sneeze?”
I nod. “Sure. Although when you really sneeze it sounds like you sat on a little mouse. It’s cute. Remember Mrs. Rodgers’ class she kept flinching when you did it? It’s because she was terrified of mice. And on April Fool’s I put a caged pet mouse on her desk. God, her scream was priceless.”
Layla shakes her head. “I still can’t believe you did that, and didn’t get a single detention for it.”
“Please. Mrs. Rodgers loved me. She’d never punish me.”
“But enough about that. Can we talk about the party?” I ask.
“I don’t want to go,” she says as I tuck a piece of loose silken hair behind her ear.
I laugh. “Babe, that’s not a signal.” Then I realize she’s serious.
I drop my hand and scoot back. “It’s too much isn’t it?” I ask.
She nods. “I want to go but it just feels so uncomfortable already. I don’t want to be in a room with a bunch of strangers judging me.”
“But that’s everywhere.”
Layla sniffles. “No. It’s different. I like us, Tyler. How we are. Don’t you?”
“Of course, I like how we are. Going to this dumb party for two minutes isn’t going to change us.”
She arches a brow. “What if it does? What if your sister decides there is someone better for you elsewhere or she doesn’t want her brother dating a gold digger? What if your parents think I’m no good for you? You can’t tell me your parents will approve of us.”
I grab her hands in mine and drop my lips to hers.
I break our kiss then say, “No one can ever tell me anything different about you. No one. I mean it. Babe, we hated each other. I’ve seen all possible sides of you that should have me running for the hills and screaming in terror.”
She frowns and starts to dip her head. I slide my fingers under her chin and tilt it so that I can meet her gaze. “Layla, I’m not running. You didn’t scare me off. Not even when you were pissed off and throwing my phone across a room or slapping me in my face. Besides, no one else can handle all of this and still keep me in check.”
“And you just had to ruin it,” she said laughing while poking me in the chest.
I catch her hand and bring it to my mouth, placing a single kiss to her palm. “So, this signal, it needs to be subtle. I was thinking a cough.”
“I honestly don’t think I should go, Ty. This has really been stressing me out.”
“What has?”
“The whole meeting your entire family. Can we wait until we have been dating longer?”
I sigh. “If you really want to wait, I won’t rush you.”
“I do.”
I nod. The smell of spices wafts between us. A mixture of garlic, basil, curry, and butter. “What were you two doing before I got here?” I ask.
“Cooking. Crap. The water.” She rushes into the kitchen just in time to hear Juliet muttering to herself as she chops vegetables.
“Oh, I can help … Yeah right,” Juliet scoffs. “Not when Mr. Doe Eyes shows up. He comes first.”
“Who’s Mr. Doe Eyes?” I whisper, now behind her.
“I think she’s talking about you,” Layla says.
I smirk. “Is that what you secretly call me when you’re talking about me?” I tease Layla.
“Uh. No. I call you many things, but Doe Eyes has never been on that list.” She walks over to her sister and says, “Are you boiling noodles?”
“Potatoes. Don’t worry, I got it. Go make out or whatever with your boyfriend.” Juliet shoots us a menacing glare.
I’m all for making out with my girl. But I know with Layla’s shoulders currently slumping, she wants to be there for Juliet. So, I roll up my sleeves and walk over to the sink.
“What are you doing?” Layla asks.
“Washing my hands, and then we’re going to make the best damn meal anyone in this house has ever eaten.”
“Are you saying Juliet can’t cook? Because she’s awesome.”
“You ladies smell that?” I ask after I wash and dry my hands on a towel.
Juliet glances over at me. “Smell what? I’m not burning anything.”
“Not that. I smell a challenge. You two versus me.”
Layla laughs. “What do we get if we win?”
“Anything you want.”
Juliet and Layla have a little stare down before they nod. Layla smiles. “You have to decorate our whole house in Christmas stuff.”
Juliet nudges Layla. “Oh, right. It’s got to be you. Not some hired creeps.”
“Fine. But I get to bring one friend to help.”
Layla nods. “Deal.”
“If I win. Juliet, you have to go with Layla and me to a movie of our choice.” Layla frowns. “Oh yeah, babe. I see the frown. It’s going to be all action.”
Juliet shrugs. “Don’t worry, Layla, he’s not going to win.”
“Oh, you ladies are going down.” I head over to the pantry fully prepared to win this challenge. If I lose though, it won’t be so bad, I tell myself. But I’m Tyler Richardson, and I don’t lose.
Chapter Fourteen
Layla
Tyler whistles while he bumps his hips into mine. I shoot him an annoyed glare and whack him on his backside with my spoon.
“Will you two knock it off over there?” Juliet snaps.
“Someone is mad because she’s losing.” Tyler snickers.
I whack him again. “We’re not losing. We’re almost done.”
Tyler leans close and his minty scent mixed with cedar causes me to momentarily forget to keep my guard up. Tyler has been trying to slip other spices into our pots. I had to poke and bat him away a few times already.
“I think you’re overcooking those potatoes, babe,” he says in a sultry tone.
I blink and return my attention to the boiling pot filled with red potatoes. “No, I’m not. Juliet set a timer for me. Right?” I ask my sister.
She growls. “I said I set the timer on the oven for the loaf. Not on the stove for the potatoes.” She marches over and moves me away from the pot.
Crap. Did I screw up? I can’t let Tyler win. I mean as much as I might like the idea of him helping me get Juliet out of the house. There is no way I want to see a smug look on his face. I love him. I do. But even his ego can be taken down a few pegs.
My sister stabs a potato with a fork then turns to me. “It’s fine. I would probably give them another ten minutes.”
I catch Tyler’s smirk before settling next to him again. “You’re so mean,” I say.
“All is fair in love and war.” He winks. “I’ll set the timer if you want.”
“I can do it,” I insist.
Juliet snaps, “Don’t. I already set it.”
I look at the blinking green digits on the screen and then I cock my glare in Tyler’s direction. “You knew she set that didn’t you?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ugh. If I agree to let you pick one film every other movie date will you promise to play fair?”
He smiles. “I might be able to do that. Noodles are done.” He pulls his pot from the stove and dumps the contents into a colander.
I look over at Juliet and she’s staring at the oven. “Juliet, what am I doing with the potatoes?”
“We’re mashing them, aren’t we?” Tyler asks. “Otherwise this chicken noodle gravy will be a waste.”
“You made gravy?” I ask. Where was I and wow, he knows how to make gravy? Jared was right about that cooking gift after all.
He winks at me. “Of course, I did. It’s in the back pot. Don’t you get any ideas over there, babe. I can see everything you’re doing.”
I make a face and cover my hand over my chest. “Me? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Uh huh. Come any closer to that pot and I will smack that ass of yours,” he says. His expression says ‘stern,’ but his tone is humorous so of course, I’m not going to take him seriously. I step a little closer to his pot and fake like I added something to it.
Tyler marches over. “What did you add?”
I shrug. He cracks my butt with his hand. I turn to him with my mouth hanging open. “Oh my God. My butt.” I rub the spot his hand slapped.
“I warned you, woman.” Then he brings his lips to mine. “I’m sorry.”
“Ugh! You guys are so gross! Knock it off already,” Juliet gripes.
I pull away and glower at my sister. “You can always leave, you know,” I say to her.
She rolls her eyes. “And leave you two in here to make dinner? I don’t think so. You’ll end up making out or something and burn everything. Then mom will be on my case about how I neglected her orders. I don’t think so.”
I smile. “Aw. Look you are ready to start following rules again. I thought for a second I lost you to the dark side.”
Juliet shakes her head.
Tyler laughs. “Even if your shirts say otherwise.”
I shoot him a look. He shrugs. “What?” he asks. “She knows it’s true.”
Juliet says nothing. She opens the oven and pulls out something that smells divine. “What did you make?” I ask.
“Turkey loaf,” she answers. That’s right because she hates regular meatloaf. She sets it on the thick cutting board that already has pot holders covering it. She lifts the jar of barbecue sauce resting on the kitchen table and pours it all over the top of the loaf. Then she sets that down and returns the loaf to the oven.
The timer to the stove buzzes and I flip the switch on the burner off. After I drain the water from the potatoes, I glance over at Tyler. He’s so into his dishes he’s not even paying attention to me. I push the water to cold and smirk. “Oh, Ty?”
“Yeah?” He turns to me as I pull the sprayer from the sink and squirt him.
His eyes widened then he smiles. “You’re going to get it.”
I slap the water off and take off running. I leap over a side table in the living room right as the front door pops open. “Layla Faye! What on Earth are you … Tyler! There will be no horse playing in this house, you two. You should be ashamed of yourselves acting like foolish children,” my mom scolds.
“Sorry, Ms. Valentine,” Tyler mutters.
“Sorry, Mom.”
My mom glances into the kitchen. “Smells great in there, honey.”
Juliet mutters something but all my focus is on my mom. For a business meeting, my mom is lacking her briefcase and her usual pantsuits. My mom went to meet a client in skinny jeans? Something is going on here, I’m just not sure what.
“How was your meeting?” I ask my mom with a raised brow. Yeah. She’s not fooling me as I scoop some mashed potatoes on to her plate then pass it over to her.
She clears her throat. “It was fine.”
No one else at the table seems to notice my mom’s sudden nervousness. Clearing her throat before she spoke means she’s hiding something.
“Oh, before you start to dig in, Ms. Valentine.” Which earns Tyler an eye roll. She hates when he calls her that and not Angela. “We had a little competition here. We’re not going to tell you who made what. Just let us know what you liked the best.”
Juliet snorts. “Well, it’s not going to matter about the green beans because our mom hates that vegetable.”
“Juliet,” mom says. “I don’t hate it. It is just not my favorite and Layla, could you take some off my plate? I’ll eat three.”
I narrow my eyes and grab her plate again and pluck a few green beans off. Then I hand her plate back. “Where were you really today? I know you never meet clients dressed in casual,” I say.
Juliet blinks at my mom then as if suddenly she’s been slapped with a stick or something. She takes in my mom’s appearance. “Who is he?” my sister shouts.
My mom glances at the two of us but says nothing. Not one damn word. She just picks up her fork and eats.
“Um … I think I’m going to go,” Tyler says. He places his hand on my leg and gives it a light squeeze. “I’ll call you later.”
“Tyler, don’t be ridiculous. Please stay and eat. I love this chicken noodle gravy mix. It’s really good,” my mom says. Almost like she’s hoping he’ll be a buffer or a distraction for me and I’ll stop asking questions.
“Ha! Action flick!” He kisses my temple. “I should head out though. I’ll just take this with me, is that okay?”
I nod. “I’ll get you a Tupperware container.”
“Awesome.”
He doesn’t remain at the table waiting for me though. Tyler follows me into the pantry and whispers, “Hey, are you okay?”
I sniffle a bit. “No. I think my mom is dating again.”
He glances back at my mom and says to me, “Maybe she really was meeting a client. Maybe she didn’t have any clean business outfits.”
I shake my head. “She has plenty. She went on a date.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I continue, “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t like to think about her doing those kinds of things.”
He tilts my head so our gazes lock. “It’s going to be okay.” Then he kisses me.
When we break apart I grab the container I needed and make my way back over to the table. Tyler takes the plate from me after I transfer the food into the container. He walks the plate over to the sink, rinses it, and then we go out to his Cherokee.
“I’ll call you later,” Tyler says.
“Okay.”
Once he’s in his vehicle and pulls out of my driveway I head back inside. I have no idea what I’m going to say to my mom, but I know it’s not going to be pretty.
Chapter Fifteen
Tyler
I probably shouldn’t have left my girlfriend. At the same time, that just seemed like a family issue that didn’t need to involve me.
I enter my house. It’s usually empty but there are a whole lot of people inside on ladders and such placing bulbs on trees. Why in God’s name we have not one, but four Christmas trees is beyond me. My parents don’t even really care about Christmas.
I walk into the kitchen. My mom is at the breakfast nook probably drinking spiked coffee. I grab a fork and sit down beside her. “What’s up with all the trees?”
“Don’t start! Your father already gave me an earful. They screwed up. I ordered two for here and two for my event. They misunderstood and sent out four for our house and the event. Since they screwed up we’re only paying for two damn trees anyway.”
I arch a brow. “Um. Okay. I was just asking.”
“What do you have there?” she asks as I pop the lid off the Tupperware that my dinner is in.
“My girlfriend and her sister were making dinner. I told them I couldn’t stay but Layla made me a plate to go.”
My mom wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. That’s the kind of meals they coo
k? Don’t eat that. Throw it in the trash.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Are you looking to have clogged arteries at your age?”
I roll my eyes and scoop up the potato noodle chicken gravy mix and swallow down a bite. My mom looks as if she’s going to gag. “I will have you know I made this. So, arteries be damned.” Then I shove another spoonful into my mouth.
My mom leaves her stool. “Well, don’t expect us to have that on the menu this weekend coming up.” Then she exits the room.
It’s almost nine when I decide to call Layla. I wanted to call sooner but I know she probably needed more time to process whatever was going on at her house.
The phone rings three times before I hear a sniffle then, “I really dislike her right now.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
I lay against my pillows and listen to her yell, “No it isn’t. What if she ends up liking this guy and he wants us to move into his house? I don’t want to move.”
Move? I sit up straight. I don’t want her to move. “It was one date, right? I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“No. It’s been like ten dates. Apparently, she’s had a few lunches with him that we never knew about because it was while Juliet and I were in school. I feel like she stabbed us both in the heart. I mean how could she date someone and not even tell us?”
I lay back down. I don’t know what to say to this. “Uh. Okay. She’s not bringing him over yet, so that’s a good sign, yeah?”
“She wants us to meet him on Christmas.”
“Oh. Don’t be there then.”
I hear her snort. “Oh, and where should I go?”
“I don’t know. We can take a drive or something.”
“Are you forgetting something?”
“No.”
She grumbles.
“What was that?” I ask.
“My sister, you twit. I can’t leave her here.”
“Babe, name calling isn’t the way to go.”
I hear her muttering. Probably curse words because I can’t really make it out. “I’d gladly take your sister with us. Assuming she wants to leave the house.”
Right Gift Wrong Day Page 6
