Page 62 of Her Filthy Grump

Layla

One week later, I’m pouring a mug of coffee for one of my regulars when Blanche leans her elbows on the counter and studies me.

“What?” When Edward Ramsey raises his finger, I tip the pot up and walk to the opposite side of the counter and return the carafe to the coffeemaker.

“You’re different.”

“What do you mean?” I study my reflection on the stainless-steel cabinets.

My face is flush, and I’ve never been more relaxed, but there shouldn’t be any outward signs of how thoroughly I’ve been loved by Kameron. Unless. I squint and try to make out my neck. Did he leave another hickey? I just stopped wearing a scarf.

“You’re on time every day. You’re well-rested. And well-plowed.”

“Blanche!” I jerk around to see if anyone is listening. The regulars chat at the table oblivious to our conversation.

“Gu-u-url, don’t deny it. You’re one hundred percent getting some dick, and some good dick at that.”

I grin and fan myself. “I’m not denying it.”

“Word on the street is you’re seeing that handsome firefighter. The one who was all grumpy and now’s practically singing in the rain without the singing or the rain.”

“That would be him.” I drop my dishtowel to the counter and scrub along the surface.

“Well, he looks good on you. He’s tapped into your responsible streak.” Blanche chuckles. “Tapped.” She twists on her heel and goes into the kitchen.

She’s not wrong. I’ve been more responsible since Kameron’s been in my life. He must have a strict schedule because of his hours at the station, so I’m up earlier than usual. And I don’t feel an overwhelming need to help everyone that calls me up.

I’ve only taken Mr. Campos on one date over the last two weeks, and not once have I chased a wild animal into the street or up a tree. Or run into a burning building.

It’s not because Kameron told me not to, it’s because I’m not clamoring to fill the hole in my heart. He’s wormed his way in and filled it to the brim.

The bell rings, and I jerk out of my musings. When Kameron swaggers in the door, my stomach does a slow roll. “Hey.” I wave weakly. He hasn’t been to the café since we first met.

One side of his mouth raises in a cocky grin. “Hey, yourself.”

His legs eat up the ground between us. “I missed you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He runs a finger over my cheekbone, causing me to shiver. “What time do you get off work?”

I glance at the clock. “Five o’clock.”

“I’m off at six o’clock. Do you want to go out?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.” Most of the time we spend together is at one of our homes, but going out might be nice.

“Let’s go to a wine tasting.”

“Really?” He’s not expressed an interest in seeing the local sites until now. Does that mean he’s open to sticking around? I try to keep my fears of the future at bay, but they’re always there lurking around the corner.

“It sounds fun. Not that I don’t like spending all my free time with you at home, but I figure we should do something besides have sex all the time.”

“Okay.” My stomach lurches.Sex all the time.Shouldn’t I have had my period by now?

Oh, Lord. This is not good.I count backward to my last period, and my shoulders relax. It should be any day. Sometimes I’m late. Don’t fret about it.

“It’s a date.” He leans down and presses his lips to mine. “See you in a couple of hours. I’ll pick you up. Be sure to bring clothes and plan to stay the night.”