Page 35 of Fighting Chance

I take the stairs carefully, scared I’ll trip with Emmy in my arms. “The parenting books are very big on routine, especially during nighttime to prepare them for sleep.”

Walking down the hall, I stop before the second door on the left—Emmy’s room. I take her right inside into the ensuite. After turning on the faucet, checking the temperature with my hand, I set Emmy on the closed toilet lid and search through the bags of items we bought from Target, praying there’s some baby soap. That was another thing I saw online, how sensitive their skin can be to products?—

My thoughts halt as I notice in my peripheral that Layla isn’t moving.

She’s just standing in the doorway, staring at me. She usually stares at me—she thinks I don’t see it but I do. But this look is different. It’s more…perplexed, as if she’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

I can’t help but grin. “You know, you’re beginning to give me a complex. Keep looking at me like that and my head is going to grow.”

“I don’t think it can get any bigger,” she mutters, finally moving past me into the bathroom.

I snort out a laugh, just as I spot not only baby soap but some bath toys, too. “You’re a legend.”

“Huh?” Layla says, clinging to her towel.

I hold up the bath toys as explanation before frowning at her shivering body. “You can’t stay in those wet clothes. You’ll freeze to death.”

Her lips thin. “I didn’t bring spare clothes with me. I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Picking up Emmy again, I place my hand on Layla’s lower back. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You can shower in my bathroom and I’ll give you something warm to wear.” I hold up my finger, ushering her to the masterbedroom next door. “Don’t even try and fight me on this. You can’t sit in wet clothes all night.”

She stops at the threshold to my bedroom. It’s filled to the brim with boxes of clothes but I packed everything I’d need for the next week in a suitcase. I find it by the window overlooking the yard and quickly grab my favorite set. Gray tracksuit pants and a large oversized hoodie.

I hand them over to her. “You’ll be comfortable in these. Soap’s already in the shower, but I didn’t buy shampoo yet. Sorry.”

She shakes her head, reaching out to grab the clothes. “That’s okay. Thanks, Kieran,” she says softly.

Her arm breaks out in goosebumps as our fingers brush, her cold hand sending a spark of warmth through mine. She snatches it away, clutching the set to her chest.

And then something dawns on me.

I take in a shuddering breath, trying to calm my suddenly racing heart as I realize the woman I’ve been obsessed with for over a year is going to be naked in my bathroom.

Just a single door separating us.

Fuck my life.

Coming back to myself, I stroll out of the room and close the door before I do something stupid like ask to join her. “Call out if you need anything. I’ll be in Emmy’s room.”

I’ve thought about Layla nonstop since I met her at that charity event.

I’ve thought about the way her eyes spark when I tease her, the way she challenges me but doesn’t do the same to others. I’ve thought about her soft voice, her laughter, her smile, the way her nose scrunches if she doesn’t like what she hears.

I borderline harassed Bella into telling me about her best friend because I was a fiend and needed to know more about her. The small tidbits were never enough.

I want to know everything.

I wanther.

Yet never in a million years, in a thousand fantasies, did I everthink she’d be naked, showering in my bathroom just down the hall from me. Because she is untouchable.

Layla Carson is sunshine personified.

She is the girl that men trip over their own two feet trying to impress.