Layla was going to apologize. That was the plan, and once she formulated a plan, she rarely deviated from it.
Even though it was well past the time she when she typically fell asleep on the couch, she was on her way to Derek's house, only stopping by the drugstore for some candy, Chuck's for some pie, and the gas station to top off her almost full tank. And a pizza, of course. Anything to delay getting to the actual apologizing part.
She knew she should at least text first, but she didn't want to give him the opportunity to reject her. She would rather take her chances with an ambush. It might be harder for him to turn her away once she was on his porch with pizza and pie.
Just because she knew she needed to apologize didn't mean she would enjoy it. But she could admit when she was wrong, and she'd been wrong to judge him.
She wouldn't go as far as to say she'd been wrong to have sex with him in her living room and in her driveway--she'd enjoyed it too much for it to be totally wrong--but she had been wrong with the way she turned him away right after like he was some kind of frustrated teacher's booty call.
At one time, she would have been fine with booty call. Thrilled even.
But sometime between him letting her cry on his shoulder at Bertie's about budget cuts, the punch in Brody's face, and getting bent over his piano, being Derek's booty call or vice versa became suddenly not fine.
Not because she was offended or anything like that. As it turned out, being bent over a piano was pretty spot on when it came to her idea of a good time...who knew.
No, it wasn't fine because it wasn't enough.
And boy did Layla struggle with that realization. She wasn't comfortable with wanting more. Shit like that always ended with her feeling even more alone than when she started with only her work to fall back on.
Yet here she was, pulling up to Derek's house uninvited with a pizza and a stack of board games all because the first time they really talked to each other, he'd told her he missed game night's with his sister the more than anything.
Layla frowned. The driveway wasn't empty, something she hadn't even considered a possibility.
Crammed into the narrow driveway were two cars in addition to his, neither of which she recognized. If she was staying, she'd have to park in the street. Layla pulled up to the curb, mentally hovering between marching up to the door and proceeding as planned and driving right back home to eat the pizza by herself.
Just then the porch light came on and the front door opened. A huge, blond man came out, wearing nothing but a tee shirt and low-slung jeans even though it was cold enough to see your breath outside. The wind blew his longish curls away from his face as he held his cell phone up to his ear.
It was Wolf Wagner. She wouldn't have recognized him from the guy down the street if she hadn't spent way too much time in the past few weeks looking up stuff about Morphium on the computer at work when she should have been...well, working. And by "stuff," she mostly meant pictures of Derek, but pictures of the other members had slipped in, as well.
Actually, she took that back. Wolf would most definitely have stood out from any guy down any of the streets around here. As far as she knew--and she knew everyone--there were no blond, Viking gods in Maybe.
Her stomach did a little flip. She'd almost convinced herself to go along with the whole "Derek's just a normal guy" thing, but seeing Wolf standing there in all his blond, muscular glory reminded her that this was the most abnormal thing that had ever happened in this town.
He hung up the phone and leaned on the porch railing. Shit. He was looking right at her. She sunk down in her seat, hoping it was too dark for him to actually see her.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, and thumped down the porch steps, cutting a path across the yard directly to her car.
Damn it. She couldn't just leave now. He'd seen her car and would surely describe it to Derek. Naturally he would know it was her. He oughta recognize the driver's seat at least from the time she rode him like she was some kind of rodeo champion in her driveway.
Layla cursed at herself for ever thinking this was a good idea in the first place, then opened her car door. "Oh, good. You can help me carry the pizza inside."
She defaulted to her strict teacher voice, her secret weapon for taking control of a situation. It also helped her cover up her nerves. If she sounded confident to her own ears, she could almost always fool herself into feeling like she was the boss.
Wolf stopped and tipped his head, her assertion that he would be her helper clearly not what he expected. When he spoke, the sound of his voice was like dark honey. "Wait...you're not a crazy stalker?"
"No. I am most certainly not a stalker." Though it showed how different their worlds actually were since stalker was the first thing that popped into Wolf's mind.
Layla came around to the other side of the car, opened the passenger door, and grabbed the pizzas from the seat. She held them out to Wolf, who just stared at her with a confused look on his face.
She cleared her throat meaningfully, giving Wolf a nod of approval when he took them.
"Uh...if you don't mind me asking...who the are you, and why do you have pizza?" He peered over her shoulder into her car. "And Trivial Pursuit? Oooh...Battleship, too."
"I'm Layla. Derek and I met at the diner and I promised him a game night before he left. I didn't realize he'd be busy--"
"Derek already made friends? That's weird. He usually likes being mysterious and reclusive."
"I don't know if we're friends--"
"A hook up then?" Wolf nodded encouragingly. "That's cool, too."
"I am not a hook up." Layla cringed. She was too a hook up. By her choice.
He shrugged. "Okay. What are you to him?"
"Just...Layla."
"Okay. That works. A pretty, pizza bringing acquaintance known as 'Layla.'" He braced the pizzas under one arm and made air quotes with his free hand as he said her name. "I'm Wolf."
"I see that. Listen, I just want to talk to Derek for a minute, then I'll get out of your hair."
He lowered his voice to a sexy growl, then snatched up Layla's hand to plant a kiss on the top of her knuckles. "No need to run off. Maybe I'd like you to be in my hair."
Oh, this man had game. And now she'd been kissed by two sexy rock stars. Too bad only one of them interested her, gravelly bad boy voices be damned. She shook her head. "That won't work on me."
"Are you sure?" Wolf tilted his head again, then gave her hand another kiss. This time he ran his tongue over the seam between her fingers. "How about that one?"
"Nope." She extricated her hand and wiped it on her jeans. "But thanks for slobbering on me."
"Oh...that's hardly slobber. Huh. Can't blame a guy for trying." He leaned down and looked at her face, narrowing his eyes as if examining her for signs of lying. "You sure that didn't work? That works on everyone. I'll try again when we get inside. Maybe you need more light to fully appreciate the Wolf."
"The Wolf? Do people really call you that?" She felt the unexpected urge to giggle. No one made her giggle. Not even Cody. The Wolf was going to be trouble.
She started to shut the car door, but he grabbed it. "My mother calls me Wolfgang. What about the games?"
"You sure?"
"The night is young, Layla. I will sink your battleship." He waited while she piled the games on top of the pizza boxes, then pushed the car door shut with his foot. He carried the pizzas and games in one muscular arm, then offered her the other.
She hesitated for a moment before slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow. They'd known each other for a whole sixty seconds, but what the hell? At least he was distracting her from how nervous she was to be walking in there.
For all she knew, Derek could tell her to shove her pizza where the sun don't shine. She knew that after the other day, she was being presumptuous.
And now that Wolf was here--and judging by the cars in the driveway, Wolf wasn't alone--things were different. Derek's real life had finally showed up on the doorstep. The game might be over for good.