Jesus, how long was he outside?
She glanced at the open double doors to his room then back at him.
“Private,” she said in a low voice, turned on her high heel and strutted into his room.
Layne stared after her a second then dropped his head and grinned at his boots while he followed her. He walked in, closed the door, wiped the grin off his face and looked at Raquel standing in his room.
Melody had come out after Layne had closed on the house. Melody had also chosen every stick of furniture and most of the homewares in that house. This included Layne’s bedroom furniture, burgundy sheets and dark gray comforter. This also meant all of it was expensive, masculine, in good taste and of excellent quality. She’d bought him (using his money) three sets of sheets because she knew his aversion to laundry. Layne hadn’t changed the sheets Rocky had slept in for over a week because it took that long for him not to smell her perfume. This could have been his imagination but he didn’t fucking care.
“Do you work out?” Rocky asked, taking him out of his thoughts and his eyes sliced to her because her tone was angry and, from her question, he couldn’t fathom why.
“Come again?” he asked.
She jabbed a finger at the doors behind him. “Do you work out?”
“Uh… yeah,” he answered.
She threw up both hands. “Layne, you got shot two months ago.”
It was then, he got it.
He took two steps into the room, cautiously saying, “Yeah, sweetcheeks, I remember, I was there.”
She crossed her arms on her chest. “You shouldn’t be working out.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She leaned toward him and hissed, “You were shot two months ago!”
Layne crossed his arms on his chest as well and replied softly, “Yeah, baby, I was shot, but it was over two months ago.”
“You aren’t recovered enough to work out,” she declared.
“You in on my doctor’s appointments?” Layne returned.
“No,” Rocky snapped then glared at him.
Layne studied her, wondering how to play this, especially knowing what he now knew about Raquel Merrick.
Then he asked quietly, “You called me up here to tell me I shouldn’t be working out?”
She kept glaring at him, trying to slip into a stare down but he started toward her and she dropped her head, turning it slightly to the side to look at the floor as well as hide from him.
He got close and put his hands to her hips.
“Baby, look at me,” he ordered gently, saw her chest expand and then, slowly, her eyes came to his. “I’m takin’ it easy, yeah? I’m okay and I’ll only get back to one hundred percent if I work on it. I’m not doin’ my normal routine, I’m takin’ it slow but steady and I’m bein’ smart. Swear.” She kept her eyes locked to his and he finished, “Now, tell me what’s really buggin’ you.”
She bit her lip then pulled from his hands and walked across the room to look out the window. Layne watched as she tucked behind her ear that fall of hair that never stayed secured in the holders, clips and pins at the back of her head and she stared into the dark night.
It took several seconds but she finally spoke to the window. “It isn’t my place to say, Layne, he’s not my son but I’m having second thoughts about this Tripp business.”
And that was when Layne knew it, seeing Rocky standing in his bedroom in her sexy getup and sexier high heels, her hair tucked behind her ear, her arms crossed on her chest, her concern for his son evident in her profile – Layne knew he was in love with her. Not only that, he’d never stopped loving her. Not once, not for a second, not for twenty-one years.
Fuck him.
It took a lot out of him but Layne stayed where he was, separated from her by ten feet in his bedroom.
“He’ll be fine, Roc,” Layne assured and her eyes went away from the window, coming to him, her neck twisting to do it.
“I don’t know. If this guy’s a predator…” She shook her head. “Tripp’s a fourteen year old boy,” she reminded him.
“He’s a smart kid,” Layne told her.
“I know, Layne.”
“He goin’ in with his eyes open, he knows this is important, he won’t jack it up and he won’t put himself in danger.”
Her brows shot up. “You sure about that?”
Finally, Layne allowed himself to walk to her. He got close but he didn’t touch her.
“I been gone awhile but me and Tripp, we’ve stayed close all that time. I know my kid and I know him better now, bein’ home. He’ll be fine, Rocky, and if I didn’t think he would, no way in hell I’d send him in there.”
She turned to him, her body giving a small jolt as she did it. “I didn’t mean to infer that you –”
“I know you didn’t.”
“I’m just worried,” she shared.
“I know you are,” he replied. “But I have faith in him and I’ll have his back, so will Jas. He’ll be fine.”
Layne watched her eyes get warm, her mouth go soft and fought the urge to touch her and, after she spoke again, he had to fight the urge to pick her up, throw her on his bed and cover her body with his.
“You’re a good Dad, Layne, those boys love you.”
He beat back the impulse and returned, “Tripp, yeah, Jas, not so sure.” She gave him the dimple after he stopped speaking, her eyes now warm and knowing so he asked, “What?”
“Jasper is a cool, badass senior now, Layne, but when he was fourteen, he was a lot like Tripp. And, trust me, everyone in that high school knew all about you before you moved back home and they did because Jasper frequently bragged about his badass, super-cool Dad.”
Layne turned his head and stared out the window, her words sliding across his skin light as a feather but the sensations they made him feel were anything but light.
“Fucked up with those kids,” Layne told the window.
“I hear a lot about what goes down at home and I see the consequences in my classroom and in those halls and you may not have made all the right choices, I know you went away, but you didn’t turn your back on them. I don’t know enough about it to know if you made mistakes but I know enough about kids to know whatever mistakes you made, they weren’t bad ones and, therefore, my professional opinion is, you didn’t fuck up.”
His eyes cut back to hers.
“At least not royally,” she finished, giving him another dimple.
Christ, she didn’t shut up, he was going to rip that soft sweater and tight skirt off her body and take her under the window.
Therefore, Layne didn’t weigh his words or pick his time to announce, “You’re spending the night.”
She blinked and asked, “What?”
“You’re spending the night,” he repeated.
She looked to the door then to him. “Why?”
“’Cause your doors and security haven’t been changed and ‘cause you’re my woman. A man and a woman together don’t sleep at separate houses, not every night, even if kids are involved,” he explained. “We want folks to think this is real, we gotta make it look real and the way you look, sweetcheeks, no man is gonna believe I got hold of somethin’ like that and she doesn’t sleep in my bed,” he paused before he finished, “regularly.”
She was staring up at him, lips parted, eyes wide, off-balance.
Then she shook it off and reminded him, “Devin is sleeping on your couch.”
“Yeah,” Layne replied.
“So, where are you going to sleep? With one of the boys?”
“I’m gonna sleep here,” he jerked his head to the bed.
“So, where am I going to sleep? On your weight bench?”
“No, you’re gonna sleep here.” He jerked his head to the bed again and she took a step back.
“What?” she whispered.
“We gotta make this look real,” he repeated.
“Layne!” She threw her hands up. “No one can see in the house!”
> “So?” he asked.
“So?” she repeated irately then looked around the room and back at him where her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“You been in on it the whole time, Roc, you know what’s going on,” he answered.
Rocky crossed her arms on her chest and stated, “Two days ago we were at each other’s throats. Now we’re…” she hesitated, looked to the door again and back at him before she said in a heavy voice, “not.”
“Two days ago was not good, the night before that, Rocky, when Melody was here, was worse. I can’t take that and, what’s more, I’m not gonna put you through that. We got a lotta shit goin’ down around us and we don’t need to be tearin’ into each other while it happens. When this started, you and me, that night you came to dinner, that night of the game, it was good. We’re goin’ back to that.”
“I’m not sure –” she started.
“I’m not askin’ if you’re sure. That’s what we’re doin’,” he told her, her eyes narrowed again and he went on. “You think we can convince people we’re together, that this is real, if behind the scenes we’re like that?” He shook his head. “We can’t and too much is at stake. We gotta live this like it’s real, Rocky, and that’s what we’re doin’, out there,” he pointed to the doors and then down at the floor, “and in here.”
She stared at him then clipped, “Okay, Layne, agreed, but we’re not sleeping in the same bed.”
“You had a photographer takin’ pictures in your house, you want someone, anyone seein’ me sleepin’ on your couch, wonderin’ why and talkin’ about it?”
“I’ll get blinds,” she shot back.
“All right, but you don’t have them now,” he returned.
She clamped her teeth together. Then she said, “Then I’ll sleep here but I’ll –”
Layne cut her off. “Sleep in my bed.”
“Layne –”
“You’re sleepin’ in my bed.”
“Layne!”
“Rocky, for fuck’s sake, it’s a big bed. Look at it. What do you think is gonna happen?”
Her head turned and she looked at the bed. He could tell she was thinking and he felt no guilt at all for lying by implication that nothing was going to happen because he knew something was going to happen and he knew exactly what that was going to be because he was going to be doing it… to her.
Then her head jerked back so she could look out the window and she muttered, “This is ridiculous.”
“This is real, they gotta see it out there so we gotta live it in here,” Layne returned and her eyes cut to him. It was totally lame, complete bullshit and he knew it but he sensed she was buying it.
Then she bought it.
“Perhaps we can start tomorrow,” she suggested and he beat back a grin.
Then he walked to his dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a tee. He took two long strides back to her, tossed the tee at her and she caught it at her chest.
“Get changed and climb in, sweetcheeks,” he ordered and watched her face pale. “I’ll be back in five. We got stuff to talk about, we’ll talk, we’ll watch TV then we’ll sleep.”
“Layne,” she whispered but he didn’t answer. He turned and walked out of the room.
He was in the kitchen clearing out the coffeemaker to get it ready for coffee the next morning when he heard her heels hit the tiles. His neck twisted and his eyes hit her, hers hit him, she gave him a scorching glare as she walked up to him, snatched her purse from the counter by the coffeemaker, turned smartly then started to walk back to the stairs.
Tripp was at the coffee table in the living room with his books. Devin was on the couch with his beer.
Before Rocky turned the corner, Layne announced loudly, “Boys, Roc and I are hittin’ the sack.”
Her body jerked and she tossed her head but, other than that, her heels on the tiles didn’t miss a beat.
From his place on the floor, Tripp looked at his old man over the back of the couch and Devin did it from his place on the couch.
Then Tripp called, “’Night Rocky,” like he’d been saying goodnight to her while she walked to his father’s bed since he could talk.
“Goodnight, Tripp,” Layne heard Rocky call back from the stairs.
“Donuts tomorrow, darlin’,” Dev added.
“Right, Dev. Goodnight,” Rocky’s voice was fading.
Tripp dropped his head and grinned at his books. Devin didn’t move and grinned at Layne. Layne prepared the coffee for the next morning and he prepared it so it’d make a big pot.
Then he walked to his cell phone on the counter, flipped it open and called Jasper.
Not surprisingly, it rang four times before Jasper answered with an impatient, “Yeah Dad?”
“Do me a favor, on the way home from droppin’ off Keira, stop at the store and pick up a toothbrush for Roc,” Layne told him.
There was a beat of silence then, impatience gone, a smile in his voice, Jasper replied, “Gotcha.”
“Be smart,” Layne said as good-bye and flipped the phone shut, placed it on the counter and called goodnight to his son and Devin as he walked up the stairs.
When he arrived in his room, Rocky was in his t-shirt and in his bed. She was sitting cross-legged, the covers were pulled up over her lap, she had the remote in her hand resting on her thigh, her eyes on the TV and her hair was out of the twist but it was now back in a ponytail, the ponytail full and wild from her hair being twisted up all day.
Her eyes came to him instantly and just as instantly she asked on a snap, “What do we need to talk about?”
Layne closed the doors behind him and walked to the dresser saying, “Jesus, sweetcheeks, give me a minute.”
“I’m tired,” she announced.
He pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms, looked to his watch, turned to her and said, “It’s ten to ten.”
“I go to sleep at ten o’clock every night, no fail or I’m crabby in the morning.”
She was so full of shit. He believed she went to bed at ten, she’d done that when she was with him. Rocky was early to bed and early to rise. But she was a morning person, always woke up in a good mood, even if she’d gone to bed late because she was studying or they were out.
“Give me a minute,” Layne repeated, turning to head into the bathroom.
“Is this going to take long?” she called after him.
“It will if you don’t give me a minute,” Layne called back then turned and stood in the large archway that led to the bathroom. “Though I could change in here.”
Her eyes shot to the TV as she mumbled, “I’ll give you a minute.”
Layne pressed his lips together to bite back his smile, walked through the bathroom and into the walk-in closet. Well out of Rocky’s sight, he pulled off his clothes, threw them in the direction of the laundry hamper Melody bought him, a hamper you couldn’t see because of the clothes piled on and around it, then he pulled up his pajamas. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth then he walked into his room.
Rocky’s eyes stayed glued to the TV as he rounded the bed and got in, shoving up the pillows, he settled with his back to them on the headboard, his body on top of the covers, legs stretched out in front of him and ankles crossed.
Even after he was in, Rocky didn’t tear her eyes from the TV.
“Can you mute that, sweetcheeks?” he requested
It took her a second to comply and when she did, her head turned to him but her body stayed facing the TV across the room from the foot of the bed.
She lifted her brows.
Layne smiled at her.
“Well?” she prompted.
“I need your help with something,” he told her.
“What?”
He slid down, rolled to his side toward her and put his head in his hand, his elbow into the pillows. Her body tensed as he did this and didn’t relax until he stopped moving.
“It’s about Gabby,” Layne told her and Rocky’s eyes got wide th
en, almost immediately, they blanked.
“What about Gabby?”
That’s when Layne told her about Stew and about Gabby, most everything about Stew and also a lot about Gabby. He didn’t leave much out including the fact that Gabrielle was living blind and acting desperate to keep hold of a shitheel of a man.
When he was done talking, she’d shifted so she had her body turned toward him, the remote in the bed beside her and her hands held loosely together in her lap. Her face had also grown soft and her eyes had grown warm.
“Poor Gabby,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Layne whispered back.
“So what do you need my help with?” she asked.
“I gotta know how to play this,” Layne answered and her head tilted to the side in confusion.
“How to play it? Layne, you do what that Ryker guy said and make him pay through the nose and then get him behind bars.”
“I’m not Gabby’s favorite person, baby, she isn’t gonna thank me for getting involved.”
“She’ll understand especially when she understands. She’s a good Mom, Layne, she’ll want to make sure her boys are safe from that.”
“She might eventually understand, Roc, but we got Jas and Tripp in the middle of this, and, like I said, I’m not her favorite person and she’s gonna be pissed in order to hide the hurt and humiliation and she’s gonna take it out on me. When she gets pissed at me, sweetcheeks, she doesn’t do it privately. Jas and Tripp are gonna hear it, see it and they’re not gonna like it. They’ll feel it, they’ll feel for her, Jas already knows I’m steppin’ up for his Mom, he’s glad I’m doin’ it. Tripp’ll feel the same so they’ll get caught in the middle and it’s my job to try to cushion them from that shit.”
Layne watched as she took in a deep breath and, while letting it out, she fell to her side, stretched out and settled with her head in her hand, elbow in the pillow, facing Layne.
“You think you can keep your part in this whole thing quiet?” she asked.
“I can try but Gabby’s got a way of finding shit out. Tripp’s not in the know about me workin’ this but he’s also not dumb, not to mention, he’s learnin’ cool but he’s got a ways to go so he can run his mouth. He loves his Mom, he loves his old man, he’ll be happy I’m lookin’ out for her and he won’t get it that she won’t be happy. Shit happens and I gotta plan accordingly.”
Golden Trail (The 'Burg Series) Page 26