Dawson knew she was still pissed at him, but she was damn good at hiding it. She held easy conversation with the rest of his family, laughed along with his sister and listened intently when Jack talked business. When Kenzie started spewing about her wedding, Layla wore a smile so bright and beautiful that he found himself transfixed. And once his mom and dad delved into the story of how they met, speaking in tandem and finishing each others thoughts, Layla seemed to melt, watching them with soft eyes.

By the time dessert was served—a healthy, boot camp-approved tart his father whipped up—he was sure he'd spent most of the night stealing glances at her.

"So, Layla," Kenzie turned to her with doe-eyes. "I'm dying to know about your fiancé. Colin, right? I mean, what's he like?" Her voice went playful as she asked, "Is he handsome?"

Dawson had to roll his eyes at the question, but didn't comment—he was curious about the husband-to-be, and didn't want to stray the conversation now that it was taking him where he wanted to go.

He didn't bother asking himself why he was so damn insistent on knowing more about her relationship, why he wanted his suspicions confirmed so badly. The reason, he knew, was the same as the reason he'd shoehorned his way into the workout that morning. There was a pull that he felt towards her, one that he was doing a terrible job of fighting off.

What he knew he should ask himself was, so what? So what if he was right about her being unhappy? If she did confess that something was amiss, what then? Was he planning to help her fix the nameless issue, or to soothe her worries about matrimony?

No, he wasn't. Because even if he couldn't pin down his interest in the situation, he knew one thing: it was selfish. He hated to admit it, but some part of him wanted to be right. He wanted Layla, and as long as that ring was on her finger, he couldn't have her.

But he didn't want commitment, or love, or anything other than to spend the next two weeks drowning in the passion that had washed over him and to pull her down beneath the waves so they could do it together. And he'd have to be the world's biggest asshole to coax her into admitting the faults of her relationship just so he could take her to bed and say goodbye in fourteen days.

So again... why the hell was he so invested?

"Oh! Umm..." Layla picked up her glass. "Yes. I mean, he's got... you know, he's very..." She set the water back down without taking a sip. "Classically handsome, I guess you could say. Blond, blue eyes. Well-dressed. He likes to be put-together."

If Dawson gripped his fork and knife a little tighter, he pretended not to notice it. Colin, apparently, was his exact opposite. He was disheveled with dark hair and eyes, and while he thought of himself as good-looking enough, he wouldn't have used the word "classic" in any description of himself.

Kenzie let out a girlish squeal. "You two have to come to the wedding together. I bet you guys look perfect together. What's he like?"

"Uh..." Layla adjusted her hair, moved the food on her plate around with her fork. Dawson watched her fidget, watched her become less of herself with each question about Colin. "He's sort of hard-headed. Outgoing. Confident."

Dawson cleared his throat. "When are you two getting married?"

She glanced at him for only a second. "We don't have a date, yet. Our parents are still figuring out some of the business aspects."

"Business?" Jack questioned, cutting into his tart.

"Yes. Foster Fitness and Joyful Juices will merge into one business, once we're married."

Dawson nearly dropped his spoon. There it was. The answer he'd been so insistently searching for. A merger.

He'd bet money that it wasn't her idea. That the whole thing was practically an arranged marriage, that she was swallowing her feelings for the sake of the business. Now this he hoped he was wrong about, even though he'd have bet money that he wasn't. Because if he was right, then all of this was a lot more complicated than a romance-less relationship. She couldn't just leave or call it off on a whim. Not when business was involved. 

Again, her green eyes met his for the briefest of moments before flicking down to her half-eaten pastry. There was no time to second guess his conviction, not when that sheepish look told him everything.

The only thing to second guess was why he cared in the first place.

Even with the questions about Colin that had tripped her up, Layla felt light as the dinner came to an end. It was the best night she'd had in a long time, and she had to wonder if it was common for families to mesh as well as the McAden's did.

As she tucked her chair in she yawned, tired in a way she'd never felt before. There'd been nights in her life where she went to bed satisfied with a day well-spent, proud of what she'd accomplished. But this soft contentment that surrounded her was like a hug that lulled her into relaxation. She was filled with good food and better stories, and for the first time in forever, her mind was somewhere far, far away from anything related to Foster Fitness.

That's why she felt even more annoyed than usual when Dawson had to spoil her oh-so-pleasant mood. She'd finished saying goodnight and was stepping out into the hall when he came up beside her.

"I'm goin' up too," he said, as if it was the most casual thing ever. "I'm dead tired."

She could feel her eyes narrow, even as she willed them not to. She wanted to do a lot more than glare at him, but Jack was still cleaning up dishes while Kenzie and Lillie Mae were chatting about centerpieces just a few feet away.

What was she supposed to do, tell him off for walking around in his own house? If she voiced any sort of complaint about having to walk upstairs with him, to everyone else it would seem like she was being rude for no reason. And she knew he was well aware of that, which only made her angrier.

So she said nothing, and after a moments pause she continued out of the dining room, attempting to ignore the way he fell into step beside her as she headed for the stairs. The manor suddenly seemed even more massive than usual, and she wished in vain that her room wasn't so far away.

Why wasn't he saying anything? Pestering her about this and that and everything in between? She risked a glance over and he met her gaze with a smile that gave her pulse a jumpstart.

She silently cursed herself, looking away as they started up the staircase. If only that did anything to stop the heat from rising to her cheeks. She tried to focus on anything else: the smooth railing in her hand, the tasteful chestnut stairs, the crown molding. 

But she couldn't stop herself from engaging. "That wasn't very fair of you, saying you were coming up too, in front of your family."

"I'm sorry?" His voice was all amusement, no offense. A stark contrast to her own rigid tone.

"You knew I couldn't argue, not with everyone watching."

"Why?"

"Because I happen to like them."

"And why'd you want to argue?"

Because you make me nervous. Because I can't seem to reign myself in when I'm around you. Because... "Because you annoy me. There, is that the answer you were hoping for?"

His lips turned up. "No, but it's the one I expected."

Unless he was a masochist, then he was just pushing her buttons for the sake of it, drawing her into a conversation she didn't want to have. The problem had one solution: stop talking. For all she cared, they could walk in silence the rest of the way. 

He seemed to have other plans. "So how do you like the orchard so far?"

"Fine." The curt answer was hardly accurate—in her opinion, the orchard was one of the most beautiful places she'd ever been, and she'd been traveling the globe since she was four. The glamor of vacation resorts in the Maldives or the bustling Tokyo nightlife were incredible, but McAden Orchard was different. There was love here, so much that it overflowed into everything around it—including her.

She didn't look over at him, but could hear the grin in his voice as they reached the top of the steps. "Fine. Yeah, that's about what I thought of your hometown, too, if you don't mind me saying."

This time she did look over, brow raised as she slowed to a stop. Damn her curiosity. "You've been to New York City?"

He nodded, leaning against the wall that showcased a dozen or so family portraits. "Back when I was in college. It was one of the things that made me realize how much I love it here. Too many people, too many cars. Too much noise. No offense."

She wasn't sure whether to believe that last part or not, when so far it seemed like most of what he did was intended to offend her. "None taken. It's not as if I built the place."

Dawson's gaze seemed to sear her skin, even as she stepped past him, avoiding his eyes. She wasn't surprised that he followed her--their rooms were on the same side of the house. "I thought New Yorkers were proud."

"I guess I missed that part in the terms of agreement."

"So you don't like the city, you don't like the country. Where do you like?"

"I like it here. I didn't say I didn't like it here. Look, is there a point to this conversation?"

"Yes."

As they stopped in front of her bedroom door, she finally turned to him. His lips were upturned, dark eyes glinting in a way that made her pulse skip. "Well now would be a good time to get to it."

"I'm sorry for what I said about Pilates."

Surprise was crossing her face before she could stop it. He just shrugged, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I should have said that earlier, in the shed, but... I'm saying it now. And considering the way my legs were aching all day, I personally consider us even."

She couldn't help but smile, and then couldn't help feeling somewhat pathetic. The stubborn wall she'd spent all day building to keep Dawson out was crumbling just from a simple apology. She had to remind herself that he still hadn't done what he said he'd come to the shed to do in the first place and apologize for speculating about her relationship.

"I really appreciate what you're doing for Kenzie. I mean, I know it's your job and all. But watching you work today, I think I wouldn't be wrong in saying it's a lot more than that to you. So thank you for... caring."

All she could do for a second was stare. Nothing meant more to her than her clients, and for him to see that so clearly, to praise it... "I... of course. I do care—I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Nothing would have been easier than letting this dream go. Submitting to Colin and both of their parents. But she cared about Kenzie, Marshall, and every future member of Bride and Groom Bootcamp. There was nothing she wanted more than to help clients be happy with themselves and all that they accomplished.

"So..." He studied her with those deep brown eyes.

"So," she replied, prompting him to continue. He'd managed to redeem himself a little with that compliment, but there was still a very obvious elephant in the room. If he was going to apologize for what he said about her engagement, now would be the time.

Things would be so much easier if he did—no more tension. As it was, she'd already spent countless minutes thinking about Dawson throughout the day. In between bits of work her mind would wander back to the unanswered questions: why he noticed; why he cared enough to ask. Why it felt so different to have her hands on his skin than anyone else's.

To let go of that tension... it'd make her a lot less likely to spend tonight as she had the last: tossing and turning and thinking of him with equal parts frustration and curiosity.

"It's the merger, isn't it?"

The unexpected topic speared through her thoughts, had her blinking in surprise. "What?"

"That's why you're marrying this guy."

"I..." On a harsh laugh, she shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "Jesus, you just don't quit, do you?"

He shrugged, looking amused by the accusation rather than offended. "So I've been told."

"Is that what you followed me up here to ask? God! Is that what that was? You apologize and compliment me in an attempt to make me less offended when you pry into my personal life—"

"I apologized because I meant it. Same goes for the compliment."

"And you're prying because...?"

"Because..." His gaze finally left hers, trailing down the hall. In the silence, she heard his siblings laughing with Marshall downstairs. Why hadn't she made some sort of an excuse to stay down there?

When he finally looked at her again, he shrugged. "Because I want to be wrong. Because I'd hate to be right."

It wasn't the jerk-ish answer she was expecting, and it sent her stomach swirling. She straightened, crossed her arms. "Why? What does it matter to you?"

"I don't know!" He laughed out the answer, hands coming up in a grand gesture of confused frustration before flopping back down. "I don't know. I guess I just don't think anyone should marry someone they don't love."

She wished she could laugh in his face, tell him he was delusional and that she was madly in love with Colin, that she was twice as excited as Kenzie to get married. But lying had gotten her nowhere so far, so what was the point? Dawson already knew the truth, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"Well then I'm sorry to spoil your night," she said evenly.

His expression softened, eyes trailing her face as if looking for signs of a bluff. As if the conversation didn't already make her feel like she was under a microscope, his eyes had to make it a thousand times more intense.

"You're saying I'm right."

"Yes." She ignored the fact that he'd opened his mouth to reply and continued, "Goodnight, Dawson."

Relief washed over her as he nodded, getting the message that this conversation was over. He stepped back as she opened her door, lingering only long enough to say goodnight.

now I want a pastry 😭

I'm so tired today I can't think of any questions skdjksf but I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!! 🧡 And I hope the characters are growing on you as well 😁