Jeannie Watt - Just Desserts

Spring in the Sierras. Great.

“There wasn’t much coming down when we drove up,” Layla muttered. The wet flakes had melted off the pavement as rapidly as they’d fallen. But if it was snowing hard now, then Sam’s small Ford Escort wouldn’t be safe on the road, and Justin probably had some kind of vehicle that could handle icy conditions. A vehicle she would not be getting into. “I’m fine here,” she said. “I’ll just get a room.”

“Sold out. The Mind Breakers. Remember?”

“Trying to forget.” The concert was the reason she was there. Layla took the stem of the empty martini glass between her thumb and forefinger, spinning it slowly as she thought. “Robert had a room for us,” she muttered. Robert the blackheart.

“What happened with Robert?”

“He’s sleeping with some trollop who works with me.” Layla couldn’t believe she’d just said that. That was it for martinis. The room was spinning. Her mouth was out of control. She shoved the glass across the table. Justin picked it up and set it on the tray of a passing bar server, who smiled at him and asked if he wanted another.

“We’ll pass,” Justin said, easing his hip up to pull out his wallet. He set a bill on the tray.

“Thanks,” the woman said with a pert smile that made Layla want to smack her for some reason. “See you around, Tremont.”

Layla half turned in the booth to face Justin. She was going to try a new tactic. “I do appreciate you offering to take me home, but I’m just going to sit here for a while. My head will clear and then I’ll figure out how I want to handle this. It’s really none of your business.” It took her longer to make the speech than expected, since some of the words tangled her tongue. But she got it out, and Justin, to her relief, slid from the booth.

“Fine.”

Really? Oh, please let it be that easy.

“Remember how Derek used to practice for his fireman test?”

Layla’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t....”

Justin simply tilted his head.

How could she have even asked such a stupid question? Of course he would. Justin loved nothing more than a dare.

“Leave me alone!” she said with sudden venom. “I don’t want you to rescue me.”

“Why?” he asked with a touch of weariness.

“Why? Because of all the crummy things you’ve done to me.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Name one.”

He looked as if he didn’t think she could. He was so wrong. Layla drew a deep breath and fought the fog in her brain. “You…picked on me as a kid.”

He appeared unimpressed by the generic description of his actions, so she searched her brain for the perfect representative incident. There were so many to choose from. Finally, she stabbed a finger at him. “You talked my date out of going to the prom with me.”

Justin gave a soft snort. “He was a jerk.”

Maybe so. She pointed at him again. “You put a frog in my lunch bag.” The lunchroom had been packed when she’d let out a bloodcurdling scream as her bag started to move.

Justin shrugged.

Another stab of the finger. “You ran my bra up the ROTC flagpole. You glued my English comp book shut. You put pudding in my slippers. You…you…” Had done so many small things she couldn’t remember them all.

“Do you want an apology?” he asked quietly. “For all the many wrongs you’ve suffered at my hands? Then would you come with me?”

“An apology wouldn’t suffice.”

“Good. Because I’m not sorry for most of it.” He placed one palm flat on the table and leaned his face close to hers, so close that she could see tiny flecks of navy blue in his green eyes. “Now get your stuff so we can start home before the real blizzard hits.”

“If you don’t leave,” Layla said between clenched teeth, “I’m going to call security.” Or someone.

“Go ahead,” Justin replied. “No, wait. I’ll do it.” He straightened and glanced across the lobby to the uniformed man standing near the slot machines. When Justin raised a hand and gestured, the security guard started toward them.

“You will regret this,” Layla said with a slight smile. Because she was not as drunk as he seemed to think.

“Hey, how’s it going,” the guard said, breaking into a smile as he clapped Justin on the arm.

Layla groaned.

“The wife was so happy with the anniversary party,” Mr. Security continued. “She told me she was glad we went with you guys instead of the other caterer she’d chosen. For once I was right.”

“Great,” Justin said, smiling back. “I was wondering if you have any of the emergency hotel rooms available.”

“Robert has a room,” Layla muttered. “But I am not staying there.” Justin touched her back reassuringly as the guard shook his head.

“Not one. Mind Breakers are big.”

“So,” Justin continued smoothly, “if Ms. Taylor here is feeling a bit…ill, it’d be best if I took her home?”

The guard’s dark eyebrows drew together. “As opposed to…”

“Her hanging out somewhere in the hotel waiting to sober up?”

Oh, great mental picture. Layla stood abruptly, hitting her thigh on the edge of the table. It scooted sideways with a screech of metal on tile, and the room swam once she was vertical. She automatically reached out and clutched Justin’s shoulder. It was either that or go down.

All her arguments about being fine and not needing him to butt into her life evaporated when the guard’s face wavered in front of her. Oh, boy.

“Take her home, Justin,” the man said. Layla kept her mouth shut as she fought to regain her balance.

Justin settled a hand on her waist to help steady her, and she felt the warmth of his fingers through the thin silk of her black dress. But she didn’t move away, because she couldn’t.

Robert-1. Justin-1. Layla-0.

Double-teamed in the worst way. Hell, if she counted the gin, she’d been triple-teamed.

“Hey, Miss Taylor!” A teenage voice penetrated the fog and she moved her head to the left, focusing on the group of people passing in the hall, headed toward the concert venue. Students. Her students. She forced the corners of her mouth up, but was not so foolish as to try to speak. Or wave, since she was still hanging on to Justin.

She glanced down at the bench, wondering how a few feet of altitude could make her head spin so nastily. She had to do something. Mind Breakers were big and several of her rather privileged students were likely here in the hotel. Along with their deep-pocketed parents.

“Get me out of here,” she muttered to Justin, without looking at him. “Please,” she added, just to make her humiliation total and complete.

LAYLA©WAS©TRYING©HARD©TO©WALK without leaning on him. She was losing the battle. Justin didn’t know how many martinis she’d downed after receiving the happy news that her boyfriend was sleeping around, but he knew from experience that the bartenders at this particular hotel didn’t play coy with the booze. They charged a lot for a drink and they delivered.

What Justin wanted to know was whether Robert had abandoned her at the bar after she’d found out he was sleeping with the “trollop,” or if she’d stormed out of their room and taken refuge in the bar while waiting for Sam. Because if Robert had abandoned her, drunk as she was…well, Justin might have to do something about that.

They stepped out the front doors onto the freshly shoveled sidewalk. The snow had let up a little since he’d come into the hotel, but it wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. Just a lull.

Layla clamped a hand to her stomach, and Justin stopped walking. If she was going to be sick, he’d prefer it wasn’t in his car.

“I’m fine,” she said in a brittle voice as she took a resolute step forward. Justin moved with her, only to have her stop dead a few seconds later and look around wildly. He steered her off the sidewalk, through the snow and as far around the giant juniper bush flanking the walkway as he could before she heaved. She swung at him when he tried to get hold of her hair, so he let go of her and stepped aside, allowing her to commune with the bush. When she sat back on her heels and drew in a shaky breath, he held out a hand. She clutched his fingers, allowed him to help her up, but she didn’t look at him.