Hearts Like Ours | Red View Romance #1

🍏 Thirty Four

He opened the door and was met with the sight of a man who was definitely not dressed for orchard work. Fancy shoes, a button-up complete with a tie, and blond hair that shone with product. The smile he wore was just polite enough, but teetered on the edge of insincere.

"You looking for Jack?" Dawson guessed. Leave it to some business man to come to the wrong door and interrupt his breakfast.

"Layla Foster, actually." The voice was smooth and confident, and it only made the words feel like more of a punch to the gut. Colin. "I'm her fiancé, Colin Reed. I believe she's staying here?"

The once over Dawson did was quick, and he realized the real Colin matched up with the picture he'd drawn in his head pretty well. Layla described him to a T that night at dinner. Classically handsome, she'd said. Dawson might use words more along the lines of pretty boy. One that looked like he was born with several silver spoons in his mouth—and coming from Dawson, who knew he had it pretty damn good in life, that was saying something.

The man in front of him, despite being both shorter and much more lithe, stood there like he owned the place. His eyes, a steely blue, studied Dawson like he was something stuck to the bottom of one of those city-boy shoes. Just the air around Colin was enough to make a point: he wasn't here to play, and he wasn't afraid to fight for what he wanted. Of course, Dawson had a feeling his fighting style would involve insults and threats instead of fists and bruised jaws.

"Yeah, she's staying here," Dawson confirmed. He could have invited him inside. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, blocking the entrance with his body. "I don't think she's expecting to see you."

"No," the smile faltered, chin raising, "she isn't. But I'm expecting to see her."

In the back of his mind, he wondered if Colin could tell. Not just that he was sleeping with Layla, but that he loved her, and that he intended to keep anything that would make her unhappy as far away as possible.

"She's still sleeping."

"So I'll wake her up. I think a man is entitled to surprise his own fiancée," he added the last part at Dawson's look of obvious disapproval.

"Yeah, I guess he is." He didn't move. "I think you already gave her a pretty big surprise when she found out you're cutting her program."

Those cold eyes narrowed, head cocking. "And I'm surprised you think it's any of your business. You haven't introduced yourself, but I'm vaguely certain you don't work for Foster Fitness. I was under the impression you were one of the farmhands."

"Dawson McAden. Orchardist, on account of the fact that this isn't a farm. And it's my business because it upset Layla."

Colin let out a breath, smiling in a way that was almost apologetic. "I see. And as a result, she's staying here with your sister, and likely getting in the way. I'm sorry on her behalf. If you'll just let me wake her up, talk to her, I'll get her packed up and out of your home before lunchtime."

Jesus. He was talking about her like she was a rebellious kid, not a grown woman he was about to marry. And the assumption that Dawson was annoyed with Layla only made him more annoyed. The man was pushing every button he had.

"Sure." He played along, stepping back in the doorway and inviting Colin in with a gesture of his hand. "I'll walk you upstairs."

"Thank you." Colin stepped inside, and Dawson didn't miss the way his eyes wandered the foyer. It wasn't a gaze of appreciation—more like appraisal. Like he was taking stock of the place and wondering why the hell Layla would want to stick around. When Dawson started up the stairs, he followed. "Again, I'm sorry about her. Women, you know? They get emotional, even over something as logical as business. I appreciate you and your sister letting her stew here. We'll send a check for—"