Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(50)

Fuck.

Bullet to the gut. Agony.

Layne sat back and changed his mind. “Maybe we should stop talkin’ about this.”

“Good idea,” Rocky agreed instantly, picking up her menu and snapping it open. “So… the steaks are good here but you have to get a sauce on top. They’re killer. They turn the steaks into heaven but in meat form. Béarnaise is good. They also do a pepper sauce that is very tasty but the béarnaise is way better. And get the sautéed potatoes. They rock. They sauté them in onions, brilliant. Oh! And I had this seared tuna here once. I swear, it melted on my tongue…”

Layne watched her while she blathered and he really didn’t want to think it but he couldn’t help but think, even in that getup with her hair around her face, looking glamorous, she was still downright, f**king cute.

* * * * *

They were in the truck on the way home and Layne was contemplating the fact that Rocky was right. The béarnaise sauce was really good. As were the sautéed potatoes.

The best part, however, was watching Rocky eat a pile of custard-filled, hot fudge-topped profiteroles. He could swear, after the third bite, she was going to have an orgasm and, watching her, he nearly had one.

He glanced at her to see she was staring out the side window and it came to him that he was wrong. The best part was sitting across from a Rocky wearing that dress, her hair down, after she had recovered from the exchange with Astley, was into her second glass of wine and had relaxed. Even with her behind her shields and with his shields up, that didn’t make her any less interesting, amusing, exciting and, especially, appealing.

“Layne?” she called into the silent cab.

“Yeah, Roc,” he answered.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” he asked.

He heard the material of her coat slide against the seat as she turned to him. “I know this is awkward, and weird, and… well, awkward. And I know because of my crazy scheme I kind of pushed you into this whole… um, situation. But you’re being really nice and you definitely didn’t have to go out of your way to arrange that, uh… tête á tête with Jarrod and what you said to him was nice, though, obviously, not nice for him but, I mean, it was nice about me.” She paused, sucked in a breath then continued. “You know, being a good woman he f**ked over and all and –”

He cut her off. “Roc?”

“What?”

“You’re welcome.”

She went silent before she whispered, “Thanks for, um… you’re welcoming me.”

He laughed low.

Jesus she was a nut.

And absolutely no less appealing with her shields up.

He turned into his development and luckily, after living there for over a year, found his house without getting lost.

There was a car on the street parked between his house and the house next door and he hoped to God for the owner’s sake that the HOA Nazis weren’t out patrolling or someone would receive a testy letter tomorrow.

He hit the garage door opener, slid up the drive beside Rocky’s Merc and parked in the garage wondering if she drank whisky. He had whisky and beer in the house and it would be good to sit and end the night with Rocky and a glass of whisky. It wouldn’t be smart, but it would be good.

The Charger’s spot was empty. The boys were back at his house for the week but out that day and night, Jasper with friends during the day and on a date with Keira that evening. Tripp was hanging with some buds, having spent the night after the game at one of their houses, he was supposed to spend the day jacking around, going to the mall and being home that evening after they went to a movie.

He switched off the ignition and Rocky had jumped down and rounded the hood by the time he joined her. He opened the door and leaned forward, holding it for her to precede him and then he walked by her through the utility room and did the same for the kitchen door.

When they both got into the kitchen he saw the house was dark and he stopped thinking about how to convince Rocky to stay and have a drink. It was early, not even eleven. Tripp was supposed to be home by ten but his curfew wasn’t until midnight. Plans may have changed but, if they did, he should have called.

Layne started to reach to switch on the light when they went on, bright and blazing, and he heard shouted, “Surprise, baby!”

Then he looked beyond a rock solid Raquel to see Melody standing in his kitchen wearing high-heeled, black platform sandals and see-through, black underwear.

Fuck!

“Ohmigod!” Melody shouted, covering herself with her arms.

“Melody, Christ!” Layne clipped, moving quickly around Rocky and in front of her to block Melody from view. “What the f**k!”

“I… ohmigod!” Melody cried, edging backward toward the couch in the living room.

“Fuck, woman, I got two teenaged boys living in this house and you’re practically f**kin’ naked! Jesus. How the hell did you get in here?”

“Tripp… Tripp let me in then he took off,” Melody answered, still edging back, she snatched up a robe off the back of the couch and started pulling it on.

“He took off?” Layne asked.

“He didn’t… he didn’t tell me you were…” Her eyes shot to Rocky who still hadn’t moved. “I told him I needed alone time with you. He called a friend and they… he didn’t tell me you were on a date.”