Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(68)

* * * * *

Layne’s eyes opened.

He was on his stomach on Rocky’s couch.

He rolled to his back and he smiled.

Then he rolled off the couch and stretched, looking out her huge-ass windows, the lights from the parking lot shining in, dawn not close but not far away.

He bent and replaced the back cushions on the couch. He’d been right, he could sleep there and he did, like a log. The seat was wide, especially with the back cushions off, plenty of room. Enough, Rocky could stretch out with him to watch a game. He remembered she loved football, she loved basketball and she loved baseball. It was chick love, it was cute, but there was no denying she liked her sports.

He turned to her stairs and went up, his bare feet silent on the steps. He’d taken off his boots, socks and tee and slept in his jeans.

The doors in the hall upstairs were all closed. One blank wall, the wall to the outside, three doors on the inner wall, another one at the wall facing him at the end. One of them had to be a bathroom.

He tried the first and found it was a bedroom. Nothing in it that he could see.

He tried the second and it was a linen closet, mostly empty.

He tried the third and found a bathroom. He used it then washed his hands, splashed water on his face, tagged a hand towel and dried his face, seeing she’d already decorated. Little chrome boxes on a shelf over the toilet, matching chrome soap dispenser and toothbrush holder. Thick towels, a color combo of a bright green and yellow. He was pleased she’d got herself sorted out before that ass**le cut off her funds. At least she had what she needed around her while she worried about not being able to make the rent.

He turned off the light, left the bathroom and didn’t hesitate when he turned to her door and opened it.

He stopped when he saw her form easily in the queen-sized bed, her curtains open, the lights shining in. Her bedroom was on the third floor, not easy to peer in, but with a man trailing her with a camera, they’d be having a conversation about her keeping her curtains open.

He moved to the bed and then halted, staring at her sensing something was wrong. He kept his eyes glued to her as he tried to figure out what it was.

Then it hit him.

Growing up, she’d had a double bed. He knew this because he used to make out with her on it and she’d told him she’d had it as long as she could remember. She slept in the middle of it, on her belly, on a slight slant, one arm pinned by her body, one arm thrown out, one leg hitched at the knee. She wasn’t petite but she wasn’t a big girl by any stretch of the imagination. Sleeping like that, however, she took up most of the bed.

He knew she slept this way because she had not changed this habit when she’d moved in with Layne. He’d had a queen-sized bed but she did not stick to her side. She slept in the middle and the way she slept meant her arm was thrown over his abs, her hitched leg was resting on his thigh and her head was on his chest or shoulder. He slept on his stomach too but this position pinned him to his back on the bed and, since Rocky slept like the dead and didn’t move all night, that meant he was pinned that way all night.

This left him with two options, he moved her and trained her to sleep on her side or he got used to it.

Layne got used to it.

If memory served, it took two days.

Now she was lying on one side of the bed, closest to the windows and she was tucked into a ball so her frame was as small as it could be.

He stared at her and he knew she had ten years of that. Ten years of keeping her distance and protecting herself from Astley, even in her sleep.

Layne let the knowledge that she was herself with him, could sleep open and sprawled and close to him and she didn’t give Astley that same gift sweep through him and he felt another golden trail left in its wake. That might make him a dick and it sucked that she had ten years of that but that trail shimmered through him all the same.

He walked to her side of the bed and sat down. Her hair was dark against her neck and he slid his hand under it, through her hair and against her skin, pulling its heavy weight off her neck and to the back.

She shifted at his touch, legs straightening and her head turned, even in the dim light he could see the movement was fluid.

He knew her eyes had opened when she shot up to an elbow.

“Layne?” Her voice was husky with sleep at the same time openly surprised.

“Gotta get to my boys, baby,” he replied, his hand still in her hair, he cupped the back of her head.

“You could have left a note,” she told him, her body starting to inch back but his fingers curled deeper into her hair against her scalp and she stopped.

He ignored her. “You sleep okay?”

“What? Yes.” The first was confused, the second was inching close to a snap. “What are you –?”

“Six o’clock for Keira and pasta bake, yeah?”

“Yes, Layne, I remember.” She was pressing back against his hand.

“I’ll call you when I do the searches on Gaines.”

Her head stopped pressing, she kept looking up at him and he knew her mood had changed when she spoke. “Okay, but I can’t take calls during class. You may have to leave me a message.”

“Then call me when you can, I’ll be runnin’ him first thing.”

“Okay.”

“We gotta do it, we’ll activate Tripp tonight so you’ll need to find time to study those rosters if the searches come up clean.”