Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
But I wanted to know everything and anything about Layla—namely, what made this woman tick.
“Thursdays. I hated Thursdays growing up.”
I arched a brow. “Big test day at school?”
“Nope. It was the day my father left every week.”
She’d mentioned that she didn’t speak to her father anymore, but shied away from elaborating. We only had a few hours together each week, and I didn’t want to use them to pry into shit that might be bad memories if she wasn’t ready to share.
“Every week? Did he split his time for work or something?”
“He split his time between his families.”
“He had an ex-wife and kids?”
She looked down and shook her head. “No, he had a wife and kids. We got him from Monday night through Thursday morning. His wife and kids had the other four days out on the west coast.”
“Jesus. So your mom was his mistress?”
“Yep.”
“How long did that last?”
“More than twenty years. Until my mom died.”
“That’s fucked up. And she knew he was married?”
“Yep. And his wife knew he had a girlfriend. Everyone except me seemed to be okay with the arrangement. And I didn’t start to think anything was wrong with it until I was a teenager—because oddly, my dad was a great dad to me. Even though he was only around for a few days each week, he spent more time with me than any of my friends’ dads who were around all the time spent with them. Dad just had two families, and we didn’t talk about it. But once I got a little older, I couldn’t comprehend being able to love two people and need two families.”
“Did he grow up Mormon?”
“Nope. Catholic.”
I shook my head. “Well, I can see why you’d hate Thursdays.”
Layla blew out a deep breath. “You’re the only person who knows that besides my best friend since childhood.”
I held her gaze. “I’m honored you shared it.”
She smiled, then relaxed back into her chair. “My turn.”
“Pretty sure anything I share after that is going to seem boring.”
“Well, I think we could use something less depressing after that share. Let me think.” She tapped her finger to her lips.
God, I wanted to suck on those things so bad.
“Tell me the last lie you told.”
“Easy. I lied to my bunkmate a few hours ago.”
“Rip?”
“Yeah. I stuck some money in his commissary account and said I didn’t. He won’t take handouts.”
She smiled. “That’s sweet.”
“Except now I got his hopes up that his daughter did it.”
“They’re on bad terms?”
“Hasn’t spoken to him since he got arrested. Never came to visit once. No one has, as far as I know. His wife passed away a few years before his arrest.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy, too. Most of the guys in here are here because of greed. He’s in because he’s selfless.”
“You said he was making and selling Social Security cards. He’s in for federal counterfeiting, right?”
“Yeah. Owned a printing shop for forty years. Had a really sick granddaughter with medical costs, so he started making them for some guy who sold passports, licenses, and all kinds of fake documents. He sent her the money anonymously because he wouldn’t have had the money to give her by any legal means.”
“Oh, wow. And his daughter doesn’t talk to him because of that?”
I nodded. “Families do crazy stuff when the shit hits the fan.”
“Tell me about it.”
I suddenly felt her bare foot on my calf. She’d slipped out of her shoe and lifted my pant leg—one of the few touches we could enjoy without the camera. I loved the way her eyes twinkled when she said or did something she shouldn’t be doing. My eyes fell to her nose. I’d noticed it while she was talking, but hadn’t said anything.
“You didn’t cover up your freckles today. Did you do that for me?”
She smirked. “Maybe. Do you like it?”
“I love it. They’re sexy as hell, but the fact that you did that for me is more of a turn-on than anything.”
She rubbed her toes higher on my calf, and I groaned. “You’re going to give me a hard-on from a fucking foot on my leg.”
The light in her eyes danced. “Well, we have another hour before class starts. Might as well make it a good one.”
I squinted, unsure what she had up her sleeve.
“Remember when we played that little game where you described how you would kiss me?”
“Yeah, Freckles. Not much I forget about your visits.”
“Well, how about we play that again, but I describe how I would kiss you below the belt?”
Chapter 11
* * *
Layla
“I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe.”
“And here I thought you came to visit me because of my winning personality.”
My best friend Quinn owned a bar less than four blocks from my office. O’Malley’s was a local pub that her dad had owned as far back as I could remember. After he decided to move to Florida a few years ago, Quinn kept it running while he had it up for sale. Six months later, she’d discovered what her dad had loved doing his whole life and decided to keep the place herself.