Layla had another night in her new home to think about what she wanted.
Other than Lancelot, that is.
She headed to the french bistro, the swanky restaurant in town, and got a job.
Lancelot had told her a dozen times that she didn’t need to work because he had a trust fund, but she wasn’t ready to let him completely support her. (Or, she had a wish worth a nice stack of happiness points.)
She also spent time working in Connor’s garden, which he didn’t mind a bit.
When she got home from her first day, Lancelot saw the tension gone from her face. She was ready to make this place her home. Maybe she was ready to make this family her family. He jumped at the chance.
He was going for sunset on the cliff at the back of the property, but he didn’t quite make it.
But she didn’t seem to mind the darkness.
Lance, you lady-killer.