Page 54 of Layla

“Appreciate it.”

I’m saved from the appraising look in his eye when the waitress returns with our food. Luckily, she puts my plate down first so I can go to town on my burger while they flirt.

When she finally leaves, Tim pauses with his burger halfway to his mouth, nodding thoughtfully. “Well this explains everything.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask around a mouthful of fries.

“Why you look so pissed off.” He smirks a little. “Don’t get me wrong—you always look pissed off. But this is a bit much, even for you.”

“I’ll just be here eating my lunch,” I tell him. “You know, if you ever decide you want to tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”

He laughs. “You’re totally into this girl. But you’re also responsible for protecting her. And that means you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Oh, but you are. It’s classic John Whitmore. The battle between your responsibilities and your damn control and the panic at the possibility that you might actually find something that makes you happy.”

I point a fry at him. “Okay, now it’s obvious you’ve been seeing a shrink. Who talks like that?”

He laughs. “I’m just saying, it’s soyou. You’re always like this. You tie yourself up into knots trying to do the exact right thing. You cut yourself zero slack. You never have, man.”

I push my plate away, feeling slightly sick. “It’s not even that. I mean, yeah, I’m pissed at myself for being unprofessional. But what’s even worse is that I’m putting her in danger. This chick has me all distracted. How in the hell am I supposed to keep her safe when I’m distracted?”

He considers that. “There is a reason extracurriculars with clients are frowned on.” He gives me a cocky grin. “One of the many reasons I got out of the business.”

“You got out of the business because you wanted more money.”

His grin grows. “Little bit of this, little bit of that.” He leans forward. “I get why you’re worked up, man, I do. But I still think you need to cut yourself some slack. It’s normal to have emotions—you act like that’s something to be ashamed of, but it’s human, John.” His smirk goes lecherous. “And sheissmoking hot. I sure wouldn’t mind spending a little one-on-one time with Layla Perry.”

I growl—actually growl—before I can stop myself, and Tim looks like a little kid on Christmas. “Oh, this is too good. You’re completely gone over this girl.”

I can’t help the flash of memory tugging at my mind, what it had been like to have my lips on hers this morning, how right she’d felt in my arms. I’m not just gone over this girl. I’m fuckingruinedover her.

I get the feeling Tim can see that because the teasing glint fades from his eyes.

“Johnny, do you really think you’d let something happen to her? Hell, I would think having these feelings for her—”

“Can we please ban the wordfeelingsfrom the rest of this conversation?

He rolls his eyes. “What I’m saying, dude, is that you’re the most loyal person I know. The more connected you are to this woman, the more willing you’re going to be to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

I picture her that night in the club, how pissed off I’d gotten when I saw her with that asshole. And how my distraction had allowed her stalker to get close to her.

Yeah, not so sure I agree with my old friend on this one.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Can we talk about something else?”

He must sense something in my tone because he doesn’t argue with me. Instead he tells me about his latest ventures, about the guys from our unit he keeps in touch with, the (many) girls he’s dated lately. It’s comfortable and familiar, shooting the shit with my oldest friend.

But it doesn’t do a damn thing to make me feel better about Layla.