All Layla Foster wants is to launch her own branch off of her parent's fitness company. But how is she supposed to focus on making her one shot a success when her client's brother makes her feel things she swore off a long time ago?
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Layla...
For a second, he forgot why he approached her. The workout had left her looking so... sated. Her skin was rosy and glistening, face framed by loose strands that had fallen from her ponytail. The temptation to reach out and tuck them behind her ears had him balling his fists as he tried to remember what he wanted to say.
She was speaking before he could, gathering herself quickly after the obvious surprise. "If you think it's funny to interrupt their workout just to try to annoy me, I'm more than happy to inform you that it isn't."
His head reared back. "Annoy you?" Ticking her off more was the opposite of what he'd planned to do.
"Yes, annoy me." She jerked the speaker back down onto the table. "I tried to end last night's discussion with a little civility, only to have you mock my work the first chance you get. I guess speculating on my relationship wasn't fun enough?"
He hadn't intended to belittle her. And now, after seeing her in action, he wouldn't think to make a joke of it again. Whatever the training session meant to Kenzie and Marshall, it seemed to mean twice that to Layla, and it moved him.
It was the passion. It was a trait he admired in anyone—even Jack, who seemed to have too much of it sometimes.
Passion was dangerous, and Dawson knew that all too well. It gripped you, consumed you, and could burn worse than any fire. Where there was a love for something, there was the potential for pain. To feel it in spite of that took a bravery that he no longer had.
"The Pilates joke was s'posed to offend Marsh, not you."
"Well it offended me." Her ponytail swung out and made him flinch back as she turned for the doorway.
"I came here to apologize, you know."
She whirled to face him, stone-faced and rigid. Having a sister, he knew that look well—it was one women got when they were just about ready to rip your head off, if you weren't smart enough to back down. "Well you have a hell of a way of doing it."
"Says you and everyone else I've ever met."
Her mouth opened but she stalled, shaking her head. "It's so easy for you to joke about this, like I shouldn't be insulted. I don't imagine you'd enjoy it if I started making jokes about your career."
He had to hold back a smile. She was trying to be the bigger person by leaving, but she couldn't let him have the last word with his half-assed apology—technically, he hadn't even given one. He had to respect that, and he had to admit he was enjoying the fact that she just couldn't help fighting back.
"Depends how funny they are." Truth was, he'd heard most of them before. Jokes about him still living at home, or about settling for the life he was born into. Settling wasn't the word he would use. In Dawson's mind, he'd just gotten plain old lucky.
He'd taken the advice of his high school counselors, explored other options and even went to college for a brief period of bachelor-dom. He studied, partied, traveled, got his heart broken. Went back to the one place he knew he could heal, and ended up never leaving since. Seeing what the world had to offer him was important— it confirmed the suspicion he'd had since he was a kid: Working on the orchard, running it with Jack someday... that was his dream.
Layla's nostrils flared. "You are so..." Her whole body seemed to tense as she held back the words. She shut her eyes, took in one long breath, and let it out slow. Clearly, she was better at biting her tongue than he was his.
She looked at him again, steady. "If you want to join another workout, fine, you're welcome to. I think it does Kenzie a lot of good to have moral support. But I'm not going to waste my time focusing on you instead of them, and if you make another remark like that I'll kick you out of my class so fast you wont even get to finish your sentence."
He held her gaze, and let his smile come this time. "Fair enough."
Her chin rose an inch as she looked him over once with disgust, then a second time that was so fast he almost missed it. He got the feeling he wasn't meant to see it, wasn't intended to find the curiosity beneath the layers of annoyance.
"And just so you know," she spoke again, voice cool and even, "in case you couldn't feel it dripping down your forehead, you sure are sweaty for someone who doesn't think Pilates is a respectable way to workout."
With that last jab she finally stepped outside, leaving him staring after her with a grin he couldn't fight.
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I hope everyone who celebrates had a happy Thanksgiving! I am now counting down the days to Christmas lol 🎅🎄 And thanks to Black Friday I FINALLY got some gift shopping done! 😛 How is your guys holiday season so far?
I also hope you're enjoying the tension between Layla and Dawson! It's my first time writing anything close to an enemies-to-lovers situation, and I am having a blast 😁
