“I am. My past…is…”
“Complicated?”
“Very. So where’d you grow up?”
“Outside of Jacksonville.”
“Now where do you live?”
“Does it matter?”
Because we’re never going to meet. That’s what he wasn’t saying. We were never going to meet, so this…small talk didn’t really matter.
“I guess not.”
The silence between us hummed for a second, nothing bad. Just quiet. Just space between two people. It was kind of comforting.
“Why are you going to all this effort to watch Ben?”
“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?”
“I guess so. You have any answers for me?”
“And sassy. I like this.”
I did too. I really did.
“Tell me about Ben.”
“Are you talking to him?”
“No. Not really. Today I did a little bit. He said he has no family.”
Dylan didn’t say anything, and I guess I’d been hoping that he’d tell me Ben was lying.
“Why are you having him watched?” I asked.
“He’s fucked up my life more than once. I feel better knowing where he is and what he’s doing.”
“How did he fuck up your life?”
“I’m not talking about this.”
“But—”
“Layla, we’ve got to have some rules about this thing between us. And one of them is I’m not talking about Ben.”
There was something so naked in his voice. So raw, and I was suddenly sorry to have put it there.
“Okay,” I breathed.
“What are you going to do before you call me again?”
“Go look at naked ladies.”
He laughed, sounding satisfied, and though I had no basis to even consider it—or know—he sounded happy, too. “That’s right, baby. Do that and call me when you’re there.”
“Call you?”
“Yeah.”
“Like while I’m watching?”
“Yes.”
Heat bloomed again in my stomach, between my legs. The idea was unbearably exciting. Unbearably hot.
“What are you going to be doing until then?” I asked.
“Waiting for you.”
The next day I stepped into the arctic chill that was the Flowered Manor office.
“Hey, Kevin, the lawn mower died again.”
“What?” he cried, looking up from the game of solitaire he was playing on his computer. In the three weeks I’d been working here, it was really just about all I ever saw him do. “You’re kidding. This is like the third time this week.”
“Fourth.” And I’d been in here telling him about it every time, too. Kevin didn’t seem to have a whole lot of concern that I wasn’t going to be able to do the work he was paying me for. But I did. I had oceans of concern. “And I’ve done everything I know how to do to keep it running. Can you get someone to take a look at it? It’s in the field.”
“Can you ask Ben to have a look-see?” he asked, unable to make eye contact for very long. As though the solitaire had magnetic powers over his eyeballs.
“Sure,” I sighed and opened the door back, the hot air rushing into the small office.
“Oh, hey, I think there’s a package for you.”
“For me?”
“Well, it’s addressed to Layla. I figure that was you last time. Must be you again.”
The wild thump of my heart was ridiculous.
“Where is it?”
“There.” Kevin waved his hand behind him toward the far end of the counter, where a white box sat tied with a red ribbon.
For some reason just looking at that package made me blush. It looked like a secret. A delicious, dirty secret.
“I’m…it’s…Layla is my middle name.”
“Whatever,” he said, clicking on a Jack of Hearts. “Ask Ben to look at the mower.”
“I will.” Clutching the box to my chest and acting as nonchalant as I could, I raced back to my trailer to open it in private.