Page 37 of A Fighting Chance

“Oh, I’m right. You know I’m right,” she teases. And then, “So, what are you going to do? Just ignore each other now?”

“Not exactly. We’re going on a date tonight,” I say.

Harper looks at me excitedly again and claps her hands together. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

I move my hands through the air in the universalcalm downmovement so she can collect herself and focus. “Let’s not make a big deal out of it, okay?” I tell her. “It’s just for fun. Nothing serious is going to come of it—obviously.”

She gives me a sideways glance then. “I’m just going to keep my mouth shut.” With that, she quiets and sips her coffee.

I honestly don’t know what to think at this point. Despite my attempts at resistance, which clearly didn’t work, I like what I know about him so far. I can’t deny our attraction. Maybe Icouldlet myself have fun while I’m here. There’s no real harm in that.

I could get to know Gentry. Well, the rest of him, anyway.

Thirteen

Lyla

The day passes quicklyand before I know it, I find myself back in my room, frantically changing my clothes, applying makeup, and fixing my hair. I’m just finishing up, looking myself up and down in the mirror for the seventh time, when I hear a knock at my door. I glance down at my phone and notice Gentry is right on time.

I open the door wide and my eyes immediately meet his. Or at least, I try to focus on his, but they’re sweeping over me unapologetically. He makes no attempt to stifle his eager looks. They graze over my bare shoulders, my breasts, my neck, and finally, they come to meet my gaze.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.”

“You look amazing,” he compliments, although given his nonverbal reactions, it’s hard to assume he thinks anything else.

For the first time, I take in his appearance and he definitely doesn’t disappoint. He’s wearing dark denim jeans, a dark brown belt and matching boots, with a thin gray sweater over a button-up, rolled up on his forearms.

“You look equally amazing,” I say, managing to keep a steady composure and the drool in my mouth.

Damn. Just damn.

He’s sex on a stick. He’s smoldering delicious temptation. He’s a wet dream. Yes, a wet dream.

Calm down, Lyla. Jesus.

“Shall we?” he asks, holding his hand out.

I nod, placing my hand into his just before he laces his fingers into mine, pulling me toward the stairs. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“I can’t tell you that,” he says, and I can hear his smirk as he speaks.

I’m at his mercy. Not that I find myself taking issue with that, at least in this moment. I smile, concentrating on the feeling of my hand in his. It’s nice. His big hand envelops mine and holds me tightly and I find comfort in it.

When we turn the corner, we find ourselves face to face with, well, everyone. Nan and Paw are sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea. Harper’s leaning against the counter, stirring what I presume to be tea. All eyes are on us as we walk in.

Great. Just great.

I hadn’t thought this through. It’s one thing for Harper to know, butmy grandparents?

Will they have expectations?

Will they make assumptions?

Oh god.

I feel my cheeks and chest grow warm and know I’m likely pink all over. Gentry nods to Paw, who nods back. We step through the kitchen and as we’re walking out the door, I hear Nan call after us.