“Dad, you’re just digging that hole deeper,” Layla said, hiding her laughter behind her hand.
“Are you listening to this?” JoAnn asked. “He wants me to put him back in the hospital.”
“What did you say?” Herschel asked.
Layla caught a glimpse of him coming up behind her mother, and then JoAnn shrieked and the phone clattered to the counter.
“Herschel, behave!”
Laughter filled her mother’s voice, countering the unintelligible words Layla’s father was saying. He was probably whispering dirty words in her ear while at the same time feeling her up. Layla rolled her eyes. Her parents were so embarrassing.
Moments later, her mother’s face reappeared on the screen. Smoothing her hair, JoAnn said, “I’m going to hang up now and finish fixing dinner for your father.”
Herschel’s face came into view over her mother’s shoulder. “Dinner is what the old folks call it,” he said, with a lewd grin.
“Ew. You two are gross. Goodbye,” Layla said.
“You kids be safe on that road at night. Rashad, drive carefully with my little girl,” Herschel said.
“Not to worry, Mr. Fleming.”
“Bye, honey. Love you,” JoAnn said.
“Love you,” Layla returned.
She hung up with a shake of her head.
“Your parents haven’t changed, I see,” Rashad said with a chuckle.
“Not at all.”
The minutes passed quickly on their night time drive through the mountain roads, during which Rashad placed his hand on her thigh, a casual but possessive move. He touched a lot, and being from a big affectionate family, she appreciated that part of his personality. Layla concentrated on the warmth of his hand as he talked. Little did he know that having his hand resting on her thigh was the equivalent of foreplay.
They finally arrived at the winery, a sprawling Craftsman-style building atop a hill with a huge balcony and bright lights filling the many windows. The SUV climbed the steep incline to the upper parking lot, and Layla stepped out and stretched her arms above her head before buttoning the top buttons on her burnt orange pea coat to protect against the cold mountain air.
“Let’s go check in,” Rashad said.
There were three floors in total, and they entered at the top, where they were greeted by the building’s rustic design, high ceilings and polished wood floors. The delicious aroma of dinner and the gentle hum of conversation wafted through the doors that led into the main dining room. Once they checked in, they drove the short distance from the main building to the three-bedroom cabin Rashad had rented for them. They didn’t need that much space, but Layla was immediately impressed by the interior. Decorated in warm colors, with a fireplace in the main room and French doors that opened onto a veranda that overlooked the mountains, she already imagined sitting out there in the morning, sipping coffee as she slowly woke up along with the rest of the property.
They didn’t spend much time in the cabin because they were both hungry, not having eaten a single bite before they hit the road because they’d agreed to save their appetite for the expected delicious meal. A friendly hostess greeted them at the door and led them to a table in the packed dining room. Layla followed behind the young woman, glancing at the dishes along the way, her mouth watering with jealousy each time a meal caught her eye.
When they were seated, Layla leaned toward Rashad and whispered, “I think I want everything on the menu.”
He chuckled, his indulgent smile warming her insides. “You can have anything you want, all weekend.”
“Hmm. You’re not trying to buy my affection, are you, Mr. Greene?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
Biting his bottom lip, he let his gaze travel over her loose hair and the cashmere sweater that molded to her breasts like a second skin. “I thought I already had your affection.”
“You do,” she admitted. “But you’re trying to buy something, aren’t you? So what is it?” She rested her chin on her hand and gazed across at him.
“Your l—” He paused, pulling up short. “Loyalty.”
Rashad dipped his gaze to the menu, but Layla continued to watch him, a rush of heat filling her chest.
Had he been about to saylove?
She gazed down at the choices of the prix fixe menu, heart racing with the speed of a rocket in her chest. A few years ago she wouldn’t have suspected Rashad could be afflicted by the same emotion as ordinary people, but now she wasn’t so sure, and her own feelings were a complicated mess. She’d loved him back then and had fully expected and wanted to be the woman who made him settle down. His lackluster responses to her talks about their future and his suggestion they slow down had put the kibosh on long-term plans. Now, however, she again saw the possibility of a future with him and recognized the intensity of her feelings hadn’t disappeared. She’d hidden them in an act of self-preservation. Rashad was still the only man who could make her blush and giggle like a school girl and scream like a wanton in bed.
