Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(211)

Then she said there, “Okay.”

That was Rocky, his woman, up for anything.

“I need to get cleaned up,” she whispered in his ear.

“No, I’m still hard.”

“Layne –”

“You can get cleaned up when I’m not hard.”

A beat of hesitation, then, “Okay,” and then all four of her limbs got tight around him.

She held him close until he pulled out, rolled and she kept rolling, moving off the bed but she came back, put a knee in the bed by his hip, she leaned into him, touched her mouth to his and whispered, “Love you, baby.”

Before he could respond, she moved away, turned and walked to the bathroom naked.

When he lost sight of her, Layne moved under the covers, settling back, head to the pillows, lifting his hands to his face, he swiped it hard.

Adrian Cosgrove was being held without bail.

Rocky and Vera were thick as thieves again.

Rocky’s attorneys called that day to say that Astley had finally agreed on the settlement and they were proceeding, her divorce would be final in less than a month and, at Layne’s urging, she had, indeed, taken him to the cleaners. What was slightly disturbing was that Astley let her.

Layne did not dwell. He didn’t give a f**k about Astley’s motivations. All he cared about was that the papers would soon be signed and, the day they were, he was putting a huge, f**king rock on her finger. He’d seen the ring Astley had given her. It wasn’t ostentatious but it made a statement.

Layne’s was going to be bigger.

Stew had moved on, had been living with his piece in the trailer park but word was he was moving, with her, into an apartment in the ‘burg. He didn’t mind Gabby knowing it either, since he paraded the skank in front of Gabby at the game that night five times (Layne hadn’t paid attention, but Rocky had counted and shared this information). Gabby hadn’t liked this and made the unfortunate play of letting that show. She didn’t see the skank was a skank and Gabby was a better catch. But that was Gabby, always making the wrong decisions.

Layne and Rocky had dinner with Ryker and Lissa. In a social situation, Ryker was no less Ryker but Layne’s woman was enough of a nut to find him charming (this was Rocky’s word). She and Lissa had instantly formed a bond over some woman in the ‘burg who gave manicures that were so good, both declared the manicurist an “artist”. Before they left Frank’s, the women had planned to have back-to-back manicures the next Saturday followed by lunch at The Station.

The Bulldogs had won again and Jasper and Layne had talked for half an hour on the phone before the game about which visits to universities he was going to accept. He only had so many and they were stacking up. Purdue had been added, as had IU and Michigan. Jasper was leaning toward Ball State. It was his Dad’s alma mater and it was a good school. It just wasn’t Purdue.

Layne had allowed Ball State to be scratched on the list but the first visit was going to be to West Lafayette, Indiana. Jasper had agreed.

It was almost done, they were almost there. They just had to take down Rutledge and Towers and then life could be life.

His eyes turned to the bathroom when he caught movement there and his breath locked in his throat when he saw Rocky in a faded, red t-shirt with a peeling Ball State decal. It was the first one she’d confiscated from him twenty-one years ago. He remembered it because it was his favorite shirt and he’d known with an even deeper knowledge than he already had that he loved her when he gave it up without a fight.

She strutted to her side of the bed, pulled back the covers and slid in, her movements liquid, she shifted to him, reached across him and turned out the light.

Then she pinned him to the bed.

“Baby,” he muttered, his voice thick.

“Yeah?”

“The tee.”

She pressed closer.

“You weren’t the only one who didn’t let go,” she whispered.

Layne’s arm tightened around her, his hand giving her hip a rough squeeze, his other hand lifted and slid into her hair.

“Though, I should note, Jarrod wasn’t a big fan of me wearing this to bed.”

Layne’s body went still.

“Which I did,” she went on.

Layne stayed still and silent.

“A lot,” she finished.

Layne didn’t move nor speak.

Neither did Rocky.

Until she whispered, “I know it was a bitchy thing to do, Layne, but, I mean, he was a jerk and he kept throwing you in my face so, I figured, since he didn’t get over it and I never got over you, at least I should be honest.”

Layne kept his silence.

“He deserved it,” she muttered.

Layne’s body finally moved but it was against his volition. It did this to shake with laughter.

Her head came up. “He did, Layne, seriously. He –”

“Baby,” he forced out, his voice sounding choked.

“You think I’m a bitch,” she wrongly surmised.

“Baby,” he repeated but was unable to say more.

“Trust me, Layne, I’m not a bitch. He could get mean about you.”

He rolled into her, his hand in her hair moving over her mouth. “Baby, shut up.”

“Okay,” she said under his hand.

Layne moved his hand, dropped his head and shoved his face in her neck where he kept laughing softly.