Their Second-Time Valentine

by Helen Lacey

  What he didn’t want to do was think that his restlessness had anything to do with Layla. For the moment they were friends and nothing more. She’d made it clear and he’d agreed.

  But when he arrived at her house the following afternoon, noticing how good she looked in a long skirt and pale pink sweater, with her lovely hair flowing over her shoulders, Kane knew he was kidding himself. He had several female friends in New York, and none of them hammered at his libido like Layla did. He said the phrase friend zone over and over to himself as he was invited inside and greeted a chattering Erin in the hallway. She held out her arms to him and Kane glanced at Layla for permission to pick her up.

  “Of course,” Layla said with a smile as she closed the door. “I think we’ve already established that she prefers you to me.”

  Kane laughed. “Hey, sweetie, have you been good for your mom?”

  “She’s been an angel,” Layla replied, and led him into the living room, where the large box still sat on the carpet. “Thank you for doing this. Grandpa is still out of action and I’m hopeless at building things.”

  “Well, you’re in luck—I’m good at it,” he assured her, and grinned.

  He spent the following fifteen minutes getting the box into the playroom, taking the pieces out and setting them out on the floor—all while Erin remained at his side.

  “Looks like you’ve got yourself an apprentice,” Layla said from the doorway.

  Kane looked at the toddler. “Sure does.”

  “Although I’m not too sure how much help she’s going to be at reading the instructions,” Layla said as she scooped up the instruction booklet he’d discarded.

  Kane glanced at the paper in her hand and shrugged. “I think we’ll manage.”

  She grinned. “Are you one of those men who don’t read instructions?”

  He stiffened, experienced a tightening knot in his chest. “Leave it on the chair and I’ll look it over.”

  Both her brows came up. “You know, I won’t think less of you for having to check them out,” she said.

  The tightness in his chest increased and he fought the little voice of insecurity in his head. All his life he’d avoided talking about his dyslexia, using coping strategies and ruses. The fact that he was all out of excuses around Layla made it even harder to admit the truth. However, he had his own sizable share of ego and didn’t want her to witness him potentially fumbling over the written instructions. Diagrams he could usually handle—but he’d checked out the leaflet and it was step-by-step written directions, in small, almost indecipherable font.

  “I’m sure I can handle it,” he said, and rearranged a couple of sections. “Construction projects are part of my brand, you know.” He grinned.

  She smiled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you could handle just about anything with one hand tied behind your back.”

  He figured it was a compliment and smiled back. “I think you’re right.”

  “Well, do you need any help?”

  He shook his head. The last thing he wanted was for Layla to see him struggling over the written instructions. “Nope. Erin and I have got it covered.”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  “Sure. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

  “Do you want me to take her?” she asked, and gestured to her daughter.

  “She’s safe here.”

  “I know that,” Layla replied. “You’re good with her. I trust you with her.”

  “You said you had an assignment to finish,” he reminded her, feeling faintly embarrassed by her praise.

  She nodded. “You’re right. Best I get to it.”

  She left the room, and he smiled when he spotted Erin toddling around, clearly quite comfortable with his presence in her playroom, and in her life. He’d always imagined he’d have a couple of kids one day. The thing was, to do that, he had to make a real commitment to someone. And despite knowing some very nice women over the years, something always held him back. He wasn’t sure why commitment and marriage freaked him out so much, since he’d certainly had a good example in his parents’ happy marriage. But whenever he got a few dates in, he usually backed off.

  Except for this time.

  It took Kane about forty minutes to put the playhouse together. He encountered a couple of problems—a few screws that didn’t want to play the game and Erin moving things around—but he managed to get the playhouse finished and sat with Erin on the carpet while she investigated it. He was adjusting a couple of shelves inside when she approached and tugged on his sleeve.

  “What have you got there, kiddo?”

  A book, he noticed, that she was waving at him. A book with pictures of colorful dinosaurs on the front. A book she clearly wanted him to read to her. She plunked herself down beside him and handed him the book.

  “Book! Pwease!”

  Kane took a breath, grabbed the book and spoke. “All right, kiddo, just don’t expect too much, okay?” he said, and then turned to the first page.

  * * *

  Layla stayed in the kitchen for close to forty-five minutes and managed to get a good chunk of her assignment done. Every now and then she would hear Erin laughing and the sound warmed her through to the soles of her feet. Kane was so good with her and her daughter clearly had a case of hero worship. She checked on the casserole she’d put in the slow cooker, grabbed a couple of sodas and a juice box for Erin, and headed for the playroom. But she stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before her.

  They were both sitting on the floor, Kane with his long legs stretched out, Erin sitting beside him, resting her head against his arm, their backs pressed up to the side of the playhouse. And Kane was telling her a story. Not exactly the story from the book he was holding, since Layla had read the book countless times and knew every page line by line. Oh, he was still talking about dinosaurs, but this story was also about princesses and green frogs and magic dust that turned a pumpkin into a carriage and mice into prancing white horses. She listened for a moment, lost in the sound of his deep, calm voice, as mesmerized as Erin by the laid-back style of storytelling.

  Finally, he looked up and stopped speaking. “Oh, hey.”

  “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, and closed the book, “we were at the end of the story.”

  “More, pwease,” Erin said and pointed to the book.

  “You know, you’ve just made story time really difficult,” she said, and smiled. “How am I ever going to compete with that?”

  He got to his feet and Erin quickly demanded to be picked up, which he did immediately. “I’m sure you do a much better job than I just did.”

  “Not at all,” she said, her skin warming beneath his penetrating gaze. “I just read the book. I don’t turn it into a fairy tale. I think you really made her day,” she added when she saw how delightful Erin’s expression was. “I brought sodas.”

  “Great, that was thirsty work.”

  He took the drink and she opened the juice box for her daughter. “I see you didn’t need the instructions after all,” she said and gestured to the leaflet, which was on the floor upside down.

  “Told you,” he said, and grinned.

  Layla’s skin warmed all over. “Are you staying for dinner?”

  “Am I invited?”

  She nodded, hearing the flirtatious edge to his words. “Absolutely.”

  They hung out for a while with Erin in the playroom and then she took off to get her daughter bathed and ready for dinner. By six fifteen they were sitting at the kitchen table and Erin was playing with her food as usual. And Layla couldn’t deny the obvious—there was an intense feeling of familiarity and domesticity in the air. Like they’d done this countless times before. Like it was the most normal thing in the world to be together, having dinner, laughing at the way Erin chatted and cooe
d and intermittently flicked food at them.

  “You’ll make a really good father one day. I know, I’ve said that before, but you’re such a natural with Erin it’s hard not to think it.”

  The words were out before she could stop them and the moment they were she wanted to snatch them back because they smacked of way too much intimacy—and she was sure she sounded like she was recruiting him for the job.

  He didn’t flinch, though. “You said you and your husband planned on having more kids?”

  She nodded. “We planned on doing a lot of things.”

  The air between them was suddenly thick and she needed to clear her head. She used Erin as an excuse and bailed, muttering something about getting her daughter ready for bed. She returned to the kitchen about ten minutes later, discovering that Kane had cleaned up.

  “Wow,” she said, and adjusted Erin onto her hip. “Thank you. Although you didn’t have to.”

  “You cooked, so it’s only fair.”

  “You put up the playhouse,” she reminded him.

  “I had help,” he said, and motioned toward Erin. “Bedtime, I take it?”

  Layla nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to—”

  “You can stay,” she said quickly. “I’ll put her down and she should go to sleep quickly. We could have coffee. Or tea.”

  He leaned against the counter. “Okay. Night, kiddo,” he said, and Erin rubbed her eyes in response and held out her arms to him. He took a couple of strides and gently kissed the baby’s head, and he was so close Layla inhaled the scent of his cologne and could see the faint stubble on his jaw. He was so incredibly masculine that for a second it was hard to breathe and she stepped back, trying to regather her composure.

  “I won’t be long,” she said.

  When she returned five minutes later she could hear the kettle boiling and spotted two mugs on the counter. Stupid, but it irked her a little that he was so good at everything. She inhaled sharply and placed the baby monitor on the table.

  “How do you want it?” he asked.

  Layla stared at him. “Huh?”

  “Your tea.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Black with lots of sugar.”

  “Same,” he said, and spooned sugar into both mugs.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a tea drinker,” she remarked.

  “Life’s full of surprises,” he said, and smiled and finished making the beverages.

  “We could go into the living room,” she suggested and grabbed the baby monitor and the cookie tin. “Oreos,” she explained as she walked. “My favorite.”

  When they reached the living room she flicked on the heater, put a music channel on the television with the volume down low and settled on the sofa. He pulled a baby doll from behind his back when he sat down and laughed.

  “Isn’t this her favorite at the moment?” he asked as he inspected the toy.

  “Second favorite,” Layla replied as she took the doll and tossed it in the toy basket next to the sofa, still smiling. “You’re not injured, are you?”

  “Nah, anyway, it sure beats standing on a Lego,” he said and grimaced. “Brady’s boys love leaving the pieces all over the floor.”

  Layla curled one leg underneath herself and relaxed a little. “It must have been a huge shock for your brother when he was given custody of the children.”

  Kane nodded. “I think at first it was. He’s settled into the role now. He’s talking about employing a live-in nanny, which will help him get into a better routine with them. Naturally the boys are still grieving the loss of their parents, so the more routine Brady can provide, the better.”

  “I can barely manage raising one child by myself,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine how it must be handling two. He’s lucky to have you to help.”

  “I do what I can,” Kane said, and shrugged. “And Adam and Laurel help out. I know my mom wishes they were still in New York so she could be a part of his support network. But Brady seems settled in Rambling Rose for the moment.”

  “Are you?” she asked quietly, not really sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Settled here?” He sighed heavily and grabbed the mug from the coffee table. “Honestly, I’m not sure. While I was involved in the hotel construction, I was busy and didn’t have too much free time to think about the future. I know Callum has more plans for the town and I’d like to think I’ll be involved in some capacity—but I’m not quite sure what the future holds.”

  Layla met his gaze. “I hope you do stay. I’ve liked getting to know you.”

  “You have?”

  “I’m not well practiced at making friends,” she admitted. “Moving around so much as a kid, I think I put a wall up.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Is it?” she challenged, and then made a self-deprecating sound.

  “You don’t think so?”

  She shrugged. “I think it’s sort of cowardly. You know, don’t let people in so you don’t get hurt.”

  “One thing I’ve learned over the years is that friendships shouldn’t be hard. I’ve got a circle of friends from high school and college and whenever we get together there’s no pressure, no expectations. We simply hang out and have a good time. Then we get back to our own lives. But you got married,” he reminded her. “You must have let someone in.”

  “Frank was easy to love,” she said, her throat tightening a little. “Easy to like. Easy to trust.”

  “I think you have more courage than you give yourself credit for,” he said quietly. “And now you’re raising Erin alone—that takes strength.”

  “Through necessity,” she said, and sipped her tea. “I love her more than anything, but I didn’t ever imagine I’d be doing it alone. That’s the thing about letting someone in, you can never be sure if it’s going to last. I mean, I know Frank would never have believed that when he drove home that night it would be for the last time.”

  “None of us can know what the future holds,” he said, and glanced at the photographs on the mantel. Layla looked at them, too—saw the wedding picture she’d had framed and wondered what Kane thought when he saw it. “I guess people risk themselves because they want the chance to be happy. Well,” he added, and shrugged his insanely broad shoulders, “most people.”

  “Not you?”

  “Not me,” he replied. “So far.”

  “What do you think you’re afraid of?” she asked bluntly.

  “Failure,” he said, answering when she didn’t think he would. “Screwing up.”

  She wondered if that was all, but didn’t push any further. They were getting close to talking about feelings—real feelings—perhaps the ones they had for each other, and Layla suspected neither of them was ready for that. She liked him, there was no doubt in her mind about that. But was it more than simple like? Or was it simply that her attraction for Kane was making her imagine she was feeling things that weren’t actually there? “I guess we’re smart to keep this thing as just friendship then. That way, our fears won’t get in the way.”

  “I guess,” he agreed.

  Except Layla couldn’t believe how wretchedly alone that reality made her feel.

  Chapter Eight

  “Can you take Larkin to day care in the morning?”

  Kane had just arrived at Adam’s on Wednesday evening when his brother passed him a beer and asked the question. “Sure.”

  “Sorry to ask on such short notice, but I’m meeting a new organic food supplier at eight and Laurel has something on early at the gallery.”

  Brady, who’d arrived at least an hour before him with the boys, quickly cut in. “If not, I could probably—”

  “I said it’s okay,” Kane said, cutting him off. “Just drop him off at my place on your way into work in the morning.”

  Adam stared at him, c
learly picking up the sharpness in his voice. “Ah...is everything all right?”

  “Fine.”

  His brother, who had also always been his closest friend and knew him better than anyone, didn’t look convinced. “Girl trouble?”

  Kane scowled. “No,” he said quickly, then exhaled. “Yes. I dunno.”

  Adam’s mouth twisted and he offered a knowing nod. “You like her?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted.

  “I guess the question is, how much?”

  He shrugged. “We’re friends.”

  “That’s all?” Brady queried.

  Kane drank some beer. “That’s all.”

  Adam stretched back in his seat and grinned. “You’ve never been friend-zoned before, right?”

  The easy thing would have been to nod and shrug off the question. But he couldn’t. Because as much as he and Layla were friends now, there was definitely something else brewing between them. But she was fighting it. And if he was prepared to admit it, in a way, so was he. It was quickly feeling like the fight of his life.

  “Not like this. It’s complicated,” he replied, and shrugged.

  “Because she’s a single mom?” Brady asked.

  “Because neither of us is in the market for anything serious.” Both his brothers laughed loudly and Kane glared at them. “What?”

  “You’re so full of crap,” Adam replied. “I saw you together last weekend.” He looked at Brady. “They were like this little ready-made family. It was cute.”

  Kane’s frown quickly turned into a scowl. “I’m not having this conversation.”

  “Therein lies the problem,” Brady said, and sipped his beer. “You know how Dad hides how he really feels about the Fortune family by being angry and suspicious and thinking they’re all not to be trusted. When we all know that he really wants to be accepted as equal to his half brothers—as being as much of a Fortune as they are. He acts that way because he doesn’t want to look weak or vulnerable.”