Mixed Signals (Lovelight, #3)

by B.K. Borison

He probably thinks he looks charming sitting there like that, all lazy and loose in his seat, his knuckles beneath his chin. Unlucky for him, I’m more sexually attracted to the warm rum butter sauce on my cake at this point.

I cannot imagine sitting in Bryce’s car for the thirty-minute drive to Inglewild, staring balefully at the hamster bobblehead on the dash. He’d probably play Ace of Base. Or worse, Nickelback.

“Why are you giving these guys your time? Why are you settling for crumbs when you deserve the whole damn cake?”

I’m tired of being alone, I want to say.

🙋‍♀️

You keep showing me pieces of yourself that I want to collect like seashells. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, and I have no idea how you’d feel about blurring those lines. I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to get myself in too deep.

“You deserve good things, sweetheart.” He swallows hard, eyes searching mine. “Why can’t you see yourself? Why can’t you see how incredible you are?” “Because,” I say, my voice cracking at the edges. “Because no one else has bothered to.”

I see you, Layla Dupree.” He says it so firmly, so resolute, that I can’t help but believe him. “Clear as day. I always have.”

But he just kisses me. He kisses me until I can’t breathe. Until I can’t remember my own name. “Layla.” It’s a good thing he says it for me.

“Because I want to watch you come undone,” I tell her, my voice a rough scratch. I look up and make sure I’m holding her eyes. “Because I want to be the one to do it.”

It feels like something more, this kiss. More of Layla. More of me. More of us together. More of everything.

His grandmother arrived shortly after he left with a fleet of his cousins. She took one look at my face, grabbed both of my cheeks in her weathered hands, and said something fierce and determined in Spanish. She then smacked me on the ass and told me to chop some strawberries. So I chopped the strawberries.

“This whole time—I think I’ve been falling in love with you,” she tells me. “I didn’t recognize it because I’ve never felt it before. And when I did, when I realized, I kind of freaked out. I’m still kind of freaking out about it. It turns out the thing I wanted most is pretty scary when it comes down to it. You’re going to have to be patient with me.” “I can do that,” I grit out, voice thick. “I think I’ve been falling in love with you for a while, Layla. One butter croissant at a time.”