Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(36)

He barely knocked before the door was thrown open and a woman with sleek blonde hair and more perfectly applied makeup even than Rocky’s, wearing a stylish and obviously expensive business dress stood in the door. Her head jerked when she saw Layne then she did a head-to-toe and her face changed.

“Hi, you must be Mrs. Astley’s friend,” she greeted, putting a slight emphasis on the word “Mrs.” as she leaned in giving a much stronger emphasis on the fact, with that one move and after having taken one look at him and having no clue who he was, she was coming onto him.

“Yep,” Layne replied, moving into her before she moved out of his way, effectively forcing her out of his way. Then he walked into the apartment without saying another word and making it clear he was there for Rocky.

He did this because she was too young for him and Layne had passed the point where he wasted time training the women he took to bed. He also did this because she appeared to have less body fat than he did and he liked the women he took to bed to be women with women’s bodies. He didn’t f**k bags of bones. Hard and pointy didn’t feel good, soft and round was a f**kuva lot better. He knew men who liked that, he just wasn’t one of them. He also did this because he didn’t like aggressive women. There were ways for a woman to tell you she was interested without her making the first move. To Layne, a woman who made the first move was struck off instantly, even if he was attracted to her. He made the moves. And lastly, he did this because her slight emphasis on the word “Mrs.” was offensive. Her knowing Rocky for all of five minutes and him for all of one second, she didn’t get to remind him of Rocky’s marital status.

He stopped and looked around thinking instantly that the apartment was the shit. White walls, two story ceilings and floor to ceiling, full-wall windows in the compact but inviting living room that also had a classy gas fireplace. He could see his development from the windows and there was a balcony running the length of the living room that you could get to through double doors with highly-designed, shiny silver handles, doors that were set seamlessly into the windows. A staircase with a closed railing in stucco white. A deep, long state-of-the art kitchen tucked under the top floor, stainless steel appliances, shining black granite countertops and cool as shit lighting. A breakfast nook around the corner by the kitchen set in a semi-circle of windows extending out from the apartment like an enclosed balcony over which was a complicated, modern, multi-light chandelier.

“You like?” the blonde asked from close beside him but he caught movement at the top of the stairs, he looked up and saw Rocky walking down.

He didn’t respond to the blonde but grinned at Rocky. “Hey sweetcheeks.”

She looked down at her feet, a small smile on her face, and shook her head while replying, “Hey Layne.”

“Upstairs pass inspection?” he asked, moving to the foot of the stairs where he stopped and so did she.

She tilted her head back, her eyes slid over his shoulder to tag the blonde’s location then back to him where she leaned in and whispered low, “I like it.”

He leaned in too and whispered back, “So get it.”

Her eyes slid back to his shoulder but not to place the blonde in the room. She was thinking.

“I don’t know,” she said.

How could she not know? The place was the shit.

Then again, it wasn’t a six-bedroom mansion skirting a manmade lake.

He turned to the blonde. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Of course,” she smiled and started to move toward the kitchen where she could easily still hear. The place was the shit but it wasn’t exactly huge.

“No.” He stopped her with one word and her head snapped to look at him. He jerked his head to the door. “A minute.”

She looked at the door then at him then her face set in a way that made her less attractive than she very obviously thought she was but she nodded and headed to the door.

Layne waited until she was out of it to turn back to Rocky.

“What’s on your mind?”

She looked up at him and bit her lip. She was thinking still, he could see it behind her eyes, but she was thinking about something else.

“Roc –”

She interrupted him. “Layne, do you know what the rent is on these places?”

“Yeah, I looked into them before moving here. Why?”

She shook her head and then sat down on a stair saying, “I don’t know if I can swing it.”

He stared at her. She was wearing high-heeled boots, jeans and another, warmer-looking, but no less expensive, fancy-ass sweater, this time with a matching woolly scarf wrapped around her neck. She drove a Mercedes. The huge, suede purse she was plopping down on the stair beside her probably cost more than his refrigerator.

“Rocky –”

“I’m a teacher, Layne,” she informed him of something he already knew.

“Yeah, a teacher whose soon-to-be ex is a surgeon who makes six figures.”

“Jarrod makes six figures, I do not make six figures.”

Layne crouched in front of her. “Rocky, he f**ked around on you. He’s living with another woman right now. You think this divorce isn’t going to go well for you?”

At his words, she reared back and stared at him, eyes wide.

Then she breathed, “I’m not going to take his money.”