Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(87)

“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 f**k’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?”