Page 32 of Once I Find You

I’m Seducing You?

LAYLA

As I ascend the stairs and enter his apartment, I breathe in and feel relaxed at the scent of the room. It smells so much like him; warm and musky, with a hint of lingering cigarette smoke. As I close the door, the sudden tippy-taps catch me off guard as a fluffy dog runs over to me.

“Oh my god! Look at you!” I drop to my knees on the floor immediately, and he all but throws himself against me, desperate for pets. “You are too cute!”

I’m having the time of my life on the floor with him as he excitedly spins around every few seconds to get a new spot scratched, when the front door finally opens. Kane stands there for a moment watching us on the ground and I look up at him with a happy smile.

“Guess you met the dog,” he says. “His name is Bacon. Don’t give him too much or he’ll never let you stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” I get out with a laugh as he climbs even more onto me. “I love him. I didn’t think you’d have any pets!”

“I didn’t think I would either.”

I stand back up, and Bacon seems to lose the initial infatuation with me to greet Kane happily. “Well, you’re lucky. I wish I was allowed to have a dog at my apartment.”

“Look Layla, let’s not beat around the bush here. You and I need to figure this out. You can’t just…keep showing up unannounced to my shop. Mason is staying here for a while and even if he wasn’t, we had a deal.”

“Well, if you gave me your number then I can text you next time and I won’t have to just show up,” I offer sweetly, batting my eyes.

“Absolutely not. I’m not looking to—” He stops and sighs. “I won’t be able to get rid of you, will I?”

I take a deep breath, preparing to give the mini-speech I practiced in my head on the bus ride here. “I decided that I won’t let my chance at possible happiness pass me. I think you must be a little attracted to me, too. We won’t ever know how we really feel if we just…deny ourselves the opportunity to see what happens, right? So, no. I won’t go anywhere, because I think I’d also want someone to fight for me and not give up easily.”

“Sweetheart, I know you have this image of me being this mythical hero burned in your head, but it isn’t reality. I’m a thirty-nine-year-old retired army veteran turned small-town mechanic. I’ve got no family, nothing exciting going on, and no plans to change where I’m at. Do I even need to mention that I’m a serial killer?”

There he goes again.

Sweetheart.

Eeek! The sound of it coming off his tongue just makes my insides twist.

Okay, come on Layla, focus. This is a serious conversation!

“Well…if we’re talking about what’s wrong with us, I bet my list is longer than yours. I…am the definition of lost and without family. I still go to therapy, but I know I still have some problems sometimes because of what I’ve been through. And maybe I’m a little overzealous. I have nothing except my little apartment. I don’t…have any way to convince you that I’m worth whatever risk you think I am.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I’m hoping maybe I can make him understand me better. I don’t care who he is or what he’s done, or even that he thinks he isn’t worth anything now. I think he’s worth it. I know there’s so much more to him than what he keeps on the surface. Someone who does what he does must have so much underneath.

And after spending the last year or so fantasizing about him and dreaming up my own reasons why and what kind of person he’d be, I’m not going to just walk away. I will know him.

Even if we don’t end up together, at least I got to know the man who changed my life.

“I don’t know what I think of you. I think you’re crazy, and I might be making the biggest mistake of my life by even considering allowing it for even a minute.”

“So…you’re considering it?” I ask, perking up.

“Do you only hear what you wanna hear?”

I nod eagerly, just waiting for the moment he breaks. He’s so close.

“Okay. If I give you my number, you swear not to show up uninvited?” I nod again, and he sighs, pulling his phone out and handing it to me.

I type in my number, name myself, and quickly send a text before he changes his mind. I smile and hand it back over to him.

“‘Sweetheart?’ Really?” When he sees the name I saved myself under, I see the smallest glimpse of a grin peek out from his typical grumpy demeanor.

“I like when you call me that,” I admit, biting my lip.