THE PLAN

LAYLA

I had productive plans for today.

I’d planned to spend some time searching for affordable rentals in the area. And mapping out my budget. And figuring out a timeline to accomplish it all.

I’d planned to figure out a plan.

But when you’re a mom of a little one, you don’t determine the plans. They do.

I haven’t gotten a whole lot accomplished today. I’ve spent the whole day chasing Sky around and trying to keep him from touching every single thing inside Arnold’s house.

At almost two years old, I was hoping he wouldn’t need much baby-proofing. But holy hell, the handsome lumberjack who lives here owns a whole lot of stuff that is not kid-safe. There are tools. And breakables. And expensive gadgets.

So I’ve been extra vigilant to keep Sky out of trouble.

On top of that, every time I manage to get five minutes to scroll through rental properties on my phone,Razor happens.

He’s been blowing up my phone.Texting and calling and leaving hurtful voice messages.

“Your life might as well be over.”

“No one is going to want you now.”

“It’s all downhill from here.”

When I block his contact, he calls me back from different phone numbers. When I ignore the phone calls, he resorts to calling me names and posting taunting memes on social media. It’s annoying and petty as hell, but that’s not even the part that bothers me.

A part of me is terrified that my ex is right. That what he says about my life being over is, well, true.That’s the thought that scares me the most.

I think back to when I first started dating Razor. My friends told me that getting into a serious relationship so young was a bad idea. That it wouldn’t last. That I’d regret it.

I laughed everyone off. I thought I’d be different. I’d make sure it was different.

But despite my best efforts, I failed.

Now I’m single and ‘used up’—according to Razor. Yet again, I find myself on the verge of bursting into tears. I close my eyes instead and quietly repeat the positive affirmations and mantras Ziggy texted me earlier today. I force myself to try and see my situation in an optimistic light.

Although my ex has left me with more emotional baggage than I’ll be able to unpack in this lifetime, he’s also left me with a beautiful little boy who is the center of my world. I love that kid more than life itself.

He’s my sun. He’s my moon. He’s my Sky.

Still the fact remains, I’m doubtful that I’ll ever get another chance at love. Every man my age is going to want someone who’s on their level. Someone who’s young and fresh and not emotionally damaged. No one is going to want me.

I don’t need a guy my age, anyway. I may be twenty-six, but between work, responsibilities, and parenting, oftentimes, I can relate a whole lot more to my friends in their thirties.

Like Arnold, someone in the back of my mind whispers.

“Dammit, Layla. Stop,” I mutter to myself. Arnold doesn’t want me. I should know that by now.

The sad truth is, I’m just single and lonely and horny. And that’s what I’ll be for the foreseeable future.

Another angry message comes in from Razor. But I set my phone down and chase after Sky before getting down on the floor and building a tower of blocks with him.

My chest aches at the adorable sound of my little boy’s laughter. I lean in and kiss the top of his head.How wicked do you have to be to kick your own kid out on the streets?

Razor doesn’t have to like me, but I never thought he’d be so cruel to Sky. His own flesh and blood. Our child is innocent in all this. He doesn’t deserve this.

I wonder now what the heck I ever saw in Razor. Was I blind?

All I know is that, no matter how much he acted up, I always went above and beyond to compensate for his behavior. That’s all I knew. It’s what I saw my own mother do. I grew up believing that it was a woman’s job to atone for her man’s actions. To keep the household together, at all costs.

So that’s what I did.

I think I would have gone on living that way for years and years.

But everything changed when Razor almost let our son die. I still can’t believe he got black-out drunk and basically left an infant on the floor to fend for himself for hours. Anything could have happened. If that wasn’t bad enough, his decision to jump behind the wheel in his intoxicated state and drive our son around town still gives me the shivers to this day. I’m just glad Karli happened to be at the clinic that afternoon and she was able to take my little boy to the hospital in my absence.

It’s a miracle that Sky wasn’t hurt or taken by protective services. The incident was a brutal wakeup call that my biggest allegiance would always be to my son, not to his grown-ass,adult-babyfather.

Now, I’m ready to put all this behind me. To put Razor behind me once and for all.

As the hours wind down, I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve lived at least three days in just today.And yet, I can’t even list a single thing I accomplished. Unless getting out from under Razor’s thumb counts.

By seven o’clock, a worn-out Sky is already fed and tucked into bed. I’m just now sitting down to continue the rental search that I started a few hours ago.

Arnold’s flannel shirt is draped over the arm of the couch. My fingertips trail over the rough fabric before I pick it up and bury my nose in the coarse threads. My lungs fill with the scent of him, a smoky combo of pine cones and deodorant and crisp mountain air. I let out a long sigh. Fuck. The shirt smells as delicious as its owner does.

I hesitate for only a moment. Then I slip my arms through the sleeves, pulling the oversized garment around my body and fastening the buttons at the front.

Warmth rushes over me and for a second, I allow myself to imagine that I’m in Arnold’s arms. Wrapped up. Squeezed tight. Safe and secure.

With a smile on my face, I nibble on warm, leftover fruit from Sky’s lunch bowl as I begin to scroll through rental listings.

The distinct sound of a key slipping into the lock grabs my attention. A second later, Arnold comes through the front door after a long day of work. He kicks off his boots at the door.

My stomach tightens at the mere sight of him. I bite down on my lip to catch the sigh that almost slips out.My gosh.

I’ve had a crush on Arnold Brighton since I was a kid. Since before it was even socially acceptable. Here I was, barely even a teenager. And there he was, coming home between military deployments with his muscles, with his tattoos, and with his closely-cropped haircut.

He was just allman.And so far out of my league, I didn’t even bother.

Arnold’s changed since then, but somehow he’s even sexier than he was in his twenties. He’s so big, and handsome, and good.Arnold Brighton is just a good freaking man.

There are males like Razor who can barely even manage to get themselves dressed for the day.

Then there are men like Arnold.Realmen.

He spent the whole day at work, handling the store without my help, and not once did he complain about it. Instead, he went above and beyond for Sky and me, checking in throughout his shift to make sure we were okay.

“Hey,” Arnold says now, his eyes finding me as he strolls in with a grocery bag tucked under each arm.

“Hey yourself. Did you have a good day?” I ask, twisting on the couch to watch him shuffle across the room.

He pauses for a long moment, his eyes flitting over me in a way that makes me feel self-conscious. Then his gaze bounces back to mine and he nods. “Yeah. Not too bad.”

“I’ll be back at work tomorrow,” I say, feeling guilty. “I just needed today to—”

“Don’t worry about it, Layla,” Arnold interrupts. “You take all the time you need to figure out what needs to be figured out.”

My chest rises on a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Our eyes hold and my stomach twirls.

He goes quiet and his gaze flits down my body again. Only then do I look down and realize that I’m still wearing his clothes.Oh shit.

“Uh, sorry,” I say, scrambling to unbutton the shirt. “Sorry. I was feeling a little chilly and I just grabbed this off the couch.Sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t exactly move here with a whole bunch of clothes. So I—”

“It’s not a problem, Layla.” Arnold gives his head a subtle shake.

“No, really. I don’t want you to feel like I moved in here and I’m just helping myself to all your stuff.” I continue to wrestle with the buttons. I’m struggling with these shaky fingers of mine.

“Layla!”

My eyes snap up to his.

“Don’t take it off.” His low voice rumbles. “You can wear my shirt. Anytime you want.”

Ooh…

He holds my gaze, not backing down until my hands drop from the buttons and I sink into the couch cushions. “Thank you,” I say meekly.

After a heavy moment, Arnold breaks the eye contact. He peeks inside one of his grocery bags. “Sky likes grapes, right?”

The question takes me by surprise.

I pause.

I smile.

“Helovesgrapes.”

My son is a textbook picky eater. Bananas? Sometimes. Avocados? Depends on the day. Green beans? Forget about it. But one thing is for sure—he willalwayseat his grapes.

Arnold nods, looking slightly relieved. “I only had time to pick up a few things, as Rainbow was packing down her farmer’s market stand for the day,” he explains as he nods toward his paper bag. “I’ll pass by the grocery store tomorrow for whatever you guys need. Write me a list.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I feel bad. He’s already done too much.

“I know I don’t have to. But Iwantto, so don’t be difficult about it.”

I let out a defeated sigh. “You’re going to force me to let you take care of us, aren’t you?”

A faint smirk passes across his lips. “One hundred percent!”

I shot him a look, but my chest is so tight right now. I’ve never had someone who wants to take care of me. A bag of grapes shouldn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But it does.Arnold does.

“Did Razor bother you today?” he asks, scattering those fuzzies at the mention of my ex.

“No. Not at all,” I lie.

Arnold knows it.

His gaze narrows on mine. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

I smash my lips together. I suck at lying.

His dark eyes catch fire. “I swear to god, if he touches you or Sky—”

“Arnold, please,” I beg. “We’re okay. I promise.”

The big, growly man lets out a rough exhale. “Okay. I need to cool down. I’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

He sets the bags on the kitchen counter and disappears down the hall. It’s so quiet in the house, I swear I can hear the shower turn on a moment later.

My mind turns dark, giving me a play by play of what might be unfolding behind his bathroom wall.

I imagine Arnold, muscles rippling as he strips out of that flannel shirt and those jeans that hug his perfect ass so well. I imagine him getting under the spray of the shower and I imagine the soap suds sluicing down his tan, muscle-cut body. I imagine him reaching down to wrap his massive hand around his long, hard—

Oh my god, Layla!

Needing to redirect my thoughts, I immediately abandon my rental search and I busy myself with washing all of the fresh produce and organizing it inside the fridge.

After cleaning up the kitchen, I collapse against the sink, feeling depleted and munching on the rest of Sky’s leftover snacks from the day. That’s when Arnold comes back in, fresh from the shower.

I have to avoid breathing out of my nose to stop from smelling his delicious scent. He smells clean and wintery. Yup—pine cones and crisp mountain air.

He stands in front of the open fridge, peering inside. “What did you have for dinner?”

I stop mid-chew. “Um…grapes.”

He pins me with a glare over his wide back. “Grapes and what?”

I cringe. “Grapes and good intentions?”

Arnold turns around and growls at me.Like a damn animal.

“Hey, I was really busy running around after Sky all day,” I argue in my own defense.

He ignores my excuses, taking me by the shoulders and gently steering me back into the living room.

“Sit,” he commands.

I do. I don’t even argue. I just drop down on the couch, letting the plush velour cushions absorb my sagging body.

I also don’t put up a fight when Arnold takes my feet and lifts them up onto the coffee table. The big, scowly man then sets a crossword puzzle book and theTV remote into my hands.

“Don’t move,” he orders me.

Following him with my eyes, I lurch forward in my seat. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t. Move,” he repeats simply.

I roll my eyes, torn between fighting a smile and just being plain turned on.

When Arnold disappears back into the kitchen, my mind wanders, fantasizing about the man and his protectiveness. It’s not just today. For years, he’s been vigilant about watching over me. He probably thought he was being subtle about it all this time. But I saw everything. I always see Arnold.

Yet again, I’m tempted to consider what his actions mean. To read more into it than what it really is. But I cut those thoughts off immediately, because I know the guy is not interested in me. Not like that. It’s just his military background sneaking in and taking over.

Arnold Brighton is protective of everyone in his circle. And I’m only in that circle because of my friendship with his little sister.

My gut sinks every time the reminder hits me. Arnold only acts like this because he thinks of me as a sister, too.

With a sigh, I turn my attention to his puzzle book, slowly flipping through the dog-eared pages. I hear pots and cabinet doors banging around in the kitchen. I also catch an occasional swear word. But not even thirty minutes later, Arnold is back, handing me a steaming plate of delicious-smelling beef and broccoli stir-fry.

My attention perks up and my stomach growls shamelessly. “Wow. This smells amazing,” I whisper.

“One of Karli’s meal prep things,” he says in explanation.

Karli launched a subscription meal prep service back when she abandoned her med school dreams and moved back to Starlight Falls. How she manages her own company, together with married life and her online dietician studies, I’ll never understand. But business has been booming for her and I’m so proud of my bestie.

“Thank you,” I mumble and Arnold just gives me a nod.

I waste no time, digging in, eating greedily, and periodically letting out a moan. I can’t even remember the last time I had areal, full meal. Cold, leftover bites of grilled cheese or macaroni don’t count.

When I sense Arnold’s eyes on me, I slow down, cheeks heating up as I chew. I laugh softly. “I feel like a pig, shoveling food into my face while you watch.”

He doesn’t return my laugh. “The better you take care of you, the better you’ll be able to take care of Sky,” he says, a chiding edge in his low tone.

“I’m doing my best,” I promise, my voice cracking.

Arnold nods solemnly. “I know. I see you.”

My heart creaks inside my chest.

Then he turns and walks away, disappearing into the room at the farthest end of the hallway. Meanwhile, I battle the tears prickling the backs of my eyes.