Golden Trail

Chapter Seven Charming

Layne was barely out of the shower, just beginning to towel off, when he heard the doorbell.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He was late. He was taking Rocky to Swank’s tonight, he’d been working the new case all day, he got caught up in it and he was late.

With drops of water still on his shoulders and chest, he wrapped the towel around his waist and strode swiftly out of his room and down the stairs. He went straight to the door, opened it, barely looking at her but the storm door was already opening and he smelled her perfume. He turned, saying, “Runnin’ late, Roc, come in and get yourself a beer. I’ll be down soon’s I can.”

Then he headed straight back up the stairs, hearing her heels on his wood floors and not noticing she didn’t say a word.

It had been two weeks since they’d put their plan into action and he was playing it smart. This was helped by the fact that her apartment was vacant and she was good to move in right away so she did. She spent her evenings shopping for shit for her house and Layne was dedicated to the cause of bringing down Rutledge but not so dedicated he’d go shopping.

They spent time together but not much. She was shopping and he was working this case. It wouldn’t take him long but it required time, planning, equipment and a shitload of field work. This was good. He’d been climbing the walls while recuperating. Being back out in the field felt fucking great.

The Sunday after their night that ended in pizza, beer and heartfelt conversation, Rocky came over with Merry and they ran the Rutledge case down for her. Then they watched football on TV. Then Merry left and Rocky stayed so Natalie Ulrich could see her car in his drive and know she was alone with him in his house. The boys came home from doing whatever it was they were doing and he got them down to homework and walked Rocky out to the car. He didn’t play make out because that was playing with fire. He just touched his lips to hers, opened the car door for her and stood in his drive watching her drive away. Then he went inside.

They’d had dinner together at Frank’s and coffees together at Mimi’s. She went to both subsequent Friday games with him, one away, the next one, last night, at home. She went with him but she sat with her Dad at the away game, Josie Judd and the girl posse at the home game, hanging with Layne, and, for show, on him, only at halftime. He didn’t know why she didn’t stand with him by the field, if it was because she felt responsible for what happened to Tripp or if she was giving him space. He also didn’t ask.

She’d started working Rutledge. She was breaking him in but Layne was too busy to be there so Merry was covering her. She’d gone three times to the Station on the pretence she needed to talk to or was meeting Merry. Merry made himself busy with bullshit work so she could wander over to Rutledge and strike up conversations. Only once was Layne close enough to go in and see her in action. When he topped the steps to the bullpen, she was sitting by Rutledge’s desk and they were both laughing though Rutledge was staring at her tits while he was laughing.

Seeing that, Layne had walked right up and claimed her, giving Rutledge a cursory greeting and that was when they went to Mimi’s for a quick coffee.

Other than that, if they were alone and no eyes were on them, he was friendly but kept his distance. He made it clear the getting to know you again part of their operation was done, they needed to focus and, thank fuck, Raquel read him and went with it, returning the favor.

The problem was, when they weren’t alone, and eyes were on them, he was forced to be far friendlier and there was not even a hint of distance. Rocky was just as friendly back. This was extremely bad because it always felt extremely good.

Now, he was taking her to Swank’s.

Swank’s was Jarrod Astley’s favorite restaurant in Indianapolis, intel Layne had learned from Merry’s e-mailed report of all things he knew about Astley. Apparently, Rocky took Astley there for his birthday every year and Astley took Rocky there to be seen in the exclusive hotspot as often as he liked which, even though you couldn’t get out of there without spending at least a hundred dollars a head, was often.

Layne had made time to swing by the restaurant so he could chat up the hostess. He found out promptly that she knew Dr. Astley. She also knew Dr. Astley had recently made a reservation, she knew the date and she knew the time and Layne convinced her to share that information with him. Then he made a reservation for two, half an hour after Astley was to get there, gave the hostess a fifty and asked her to make certain he was seated close to Astley. After he smiled at her, she promised he would be.

Layne learned from the intel on Astley that getting into his face made it even better he had a time-consuming case because that fifty he’d slipped the waitress was only the beginning. Astley made a lot of money, even more than Layne reckoned he did (and Layne knew this because he ran every search and report he could on the doc) and Astley wasn’t saving for a rainy day. He lived large. Swank’s was named that for a reason. The place was trendy and expensive and, the time Layne visited the hostess, packed. In Indy, it was the place to see and be seen.

Astley also came from money, he wasn’t the elite of the elite but he was from the upper class, albeit the middle upper class. He had a trust fund that he didn’t dip into much since he didn’t have to and he stood to inherit a whack, even sharing it with a brother and sister, when his mother eventually passed away

Taking his mind off Astley, Layne stood at the sink in his bathroom, shaved, slapped on aftershave and ran a comb through his hair. Then he went to the closet and pulled clothes off hangers.

Melody lived in LA and she worked retail, a fancy-ass store that, from what Layne had learned from Astley’s credit card statements, Jarrod Astley would cream his pants over. Melody liked dressing Layne and she got a great discount so whenever he saw her she always had bags of shit to give him. Even though he rarely wore the shit she bought, he didn’t throw it away but most of it had never touched his skin.

He put on a pair of slacks, shrugged on a shirt, buttoned it, grabbed the jacket off a hanger, went to his bedroom and pulled on his socks and boots. He shoved his wallet in the inside pocket of the jacket and shrugged that on as he walked downstairs.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rocky sitting at the island as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, tagging his keys and cell off the counter as he walked to the utility room door.

“Ready?” he asked, stopped, turned to her and froze.

“Yeah,” she replied, her back to him, she was moving, doing something, he didn’t know what, because he couldn’t force his mind to think.

Her back was bare. Completely. There were only thin black straps that curled over her shoulders and stopped at the back of her pits and her lower body was hidden by the island but what he could see of her back it was completely bare.

And her hair was down, down in a sleek, gleaming fall that went to beyond her shoulder blades but, with her movements, was now gliding around the skin of her back and shoulders. That skin disappeared when she pulled up a black coat and settled it on her shoulders. Turning to the island, with one hand she pulled the thick length of her hair free of her coat and with the other hand she grabbed a little, shiny, deep purple purse and a deep purple scarf in some slithery material. Then he heard her heels on the tiles, she rounded the island and he saw her from the front.

The black coat went to her knees but she hadn’t buttoned it and, as she moved, the coat went back and showed the entirety of the dress. The top front of the dress was straight above her breasts, the middle loose and partially draping, but at her hips and thighs the dress clung, as in clung. It was so formfitting it left nothing to the imagination. And it was short. It wasn’t short-short but it came to just below the tops of her thighs. Her long legs went forever under that skirt, they were bare but looked shiny in a sexy way and she was wearing purple, spike-heeled sandals with a fuckload of thin straps that were so damned sexy, just looking at those shoes made him start to get hard.

He tore his eyes from the shoes, made the grave mistake of trailing them up her body and seeing that dress again and then he saw her face. She was arranging the scarf around her neck and her makeup was smoky, in deep grays and purples, heavier than usual, just as perfect… and hot, especially with her hair falling around her face and shoulders.

She got close and even her perfume was stronger.

Fuck.

She stopped, her head down and twisting around as she settled her scarf around her neck, she finished with that, tipped her head back to look at him, tilted it to the side and said, “Ready.”

Yeah, she was ready. Fucking shit, it was going to be a long night.

He turned to the door, opened it and held it for her.

Her perfume assaulted him again as she walked through. He followed her, reaching high to grab the edge of garage door she opened and she preceded him through that as he bleeped the locks on his truck. Rocky headed to the passenger side, Layne followed. She climbed up and he saw more leg, her coat falling back as the skirt stretched to the danger zone and she settled in.

He slammed the door and rounded the hood forcing himself to think of kittens.

He got in, buckled in, hit the garage door opener, started the truck, backed out and hit the garage door opener again. They were out of the development and on the road toward Indy when she spoke.

“Went by the Station today,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

“Rutledge and I are forming a bond,” she told him.

“Good,” he returned.

“While I was there, Drew caught me.”

Shit.

“Rocky –”

He heard the material of her coat slide against the seat as she turned to him.

“He wanted me to talk to you. He told me some weird stuff about the Youth Group at the Christian Church.”

“Roc –”

“It doesn’t sound good, Layne.”

“He told me the same thing and you’re right, he’s right, it doesn’t sound good. But we got enough on our plate.”

He heard the material slide again as she turned to look out the windshield.

“I’ve been hearing things at school too. I can’t say I’m surprised at what Drew shared.”

Layne made no response.

“I think –” she started.

He glanced at her then back at the road while speaking. “Sweetcheeks, I made a formal complaint about my kids’ football coach. They were at their Mom’s last week but breakfast conversation the week before included the fact that both my boys are bearing the consequences of that, not at games, he’s not that stupid, considering mine wasn’t the only complaint lodged and Gabby’s wasn’t the only other complaint lodged, but during practice.”

He heard her suck in breath but kept talking.

“I got a case that’s takin’ all my time so I haven’t been able to give any to whatever is goin’ down with Stew.”

“That’s not good,” she muttered.

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “And you’re wedging yourself close to Rutledge, you got an apartment to set up and if Cosgrove is pissed about the complaints and not afraid to take payback outta my boys during practice, then he won’t be afraid of fuckin’ with the woman he thinks is mine. Summin’ up, sweetcheeks, I’ll repeat, we got enough on our plate.”

She sighed, he waited, she didn’t speak, he glanced at her to see she was looking out the side window, she sighed again, this time heavier.

Then she whispered, “All right.”

Well thank Christ for that.

Layne drove in silence and Rocky followed his lead. They’d had no more heart-to-hearts after the night of pizza and beer. Raquel didn’t share with him about work and told him only what he needed to know about her life. She did this, he reckoned, because this was what he was doing.

However, as they drove, the scent of her perfume filled his cab and the sight of her legs filled his vision. The second was because his eyes were drawn to them no matter how he tried to keep them on the road. It was only filling his mind with visions of those legs bloody and lifeless if he crashed that made him stop.

They were on the Circle when she asked, “Tell me again why we’re all gussied up and going out on the town?”

“Point of this, you and me, is to be seen,” he reminded her. “We haven’t been doin’ much of that.”

“Yes, Layne.” He could tell by the sound of her voice she was looking at him. “But shouldn’t we be seen in the ‘burg?”

“Lots of people need to see and lots of places to be seen.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Yes, there was something he wasn’t telling her. She knew they were going to Swank’s but had no idea Astley was there and he wasn’t going to tell her now.

“Just trust me, Roc, I know what I’m doin’.”

There was a beat of silence then another sigh then another, “All right.”

He turned off the Circle, found Swank’s and stopped out front, rounded the hood and handed the keys to the valet, taking a ticket. Rocky waited for him, he put a hand in the small of her back and led her into the restaurant.

The hostess smiled warmly at him and before they even made it to her station, where he could, say, give his name, she announced, “Your table’s all ready.” Rocky looked at her in surprise then looked at Layne but the hostess was rounding the station and motioning with an arm to a man standing there. “Your coat.”

Layne took Rocky’s coat from her and got a good look at the full back of her dress, or, more appropriately, the lack of it. He was right. Completely bare. Straight down to the top of her ass. Fuck.

She unwrapped her scarf, he took it and handed them off to the man waiting. The man gave Layne another slip of paper to go with the one from the valet, Layne tucked it in his inside jacket pocket and moved behind Rocky as she followed the hostess who was carrying menus.

Layne knew the instant she saw him because she stopped dead and he almost ran into her. He didn’t hesitate and put his hand on the skin at the small of her back and pushed her forward.

“Layne –” she started, walking forward because he was pushing her at the same time she was pressing back.

“Let’s get to the table, sweetcheeks, I’m fuckin’ starved.”

He noted as he spoke that the hostess had done well. They were in an alcove that held only two two-top booths, either side, separated by about five feet. Astley and some brunette with her back to the restaurant on one side. An empty booth on the other. Fucking perfect.

“Layne –” Rocky said again, turning to him.

They’d made it to the area that separated the booths and he hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her into his side. She tipped her head back to look at him, her face was pale and her eyes were huge.

“I learned early, baby, not to make you wait to get fed.” He touched his mouth to hers. “Do me the same courtesy, yeah?” he asked then looked at the hostess and announced, “My baby likes her food.”

“Layne –” Rocky repeated, her body tight as a bow about to snap and the alcove was thick with tension and not just Rocky’s.

“Sit, sweetcheeks.” He maneuvered her to the seat facing the restaurant which was what he’d do in normal circumstances. The woman should always have the best seat and it was better facing the restaurant and being able to see the activity than having your back to the room. He noticed that Astley didn’t afford that consideration to his woman but Layne did it for Rocky even though the better strategic position was to have his back to the wall, Rocky facing him, which meant Astley would find it difficult not to look at her for, if he turned his head, she’d be in his line of sight.

He pushed her down in her side of the narrow booth thinking, for the first time, he was glad she was wearing that dress. No man seeing Rocky in that dress could be unaffected by it. Layne wasn’t the only proof of that. Every man she passed while walking through the restaurant stared at her while she did it.

He sat down as Rocky leaned forward and hissed, “Layne, listen to –”

He tilted his head back and said to the hostess, “Can you help me out and get me a beer?”

“Absolutely,” she replied on a smile, opening a menu and handing it to Rocky who took it automatically. “We have a wide selection. Would you like to see a list?”

“Nope.” He smiled at her. “You pick. Only two requirements. American and cold.”

She nodded, still smiling, handed him his open menu and looked to Rocky. “Do you know what you’d like to drink?”

“Montepulciano,” she said instantly. “A large one.”

Layne looked down at his menu and grinned.

The hostess took off.

“Layne!” she snapped, her voice bordering on shrill.

“Yeah baby?” he asked back, not lifting his head from the menu and before she could say anything, he went on. “You’ve been here, what’s good? I hope the portions aren’t crap. I could eat an entire pan of Jas’s pasta bake.”

“Layne!” she repeated but Layne felt him before he said a word and Layne looked up and to the side to see Astley standing there. His hair was dark blonde, nearly brown, only hints of gray. His eyes were hazel. He was tall, straight and slim. Layne could tell, even under his expensive suit, the man was fit. But he wasn’t fit in a bulky, powerful way. He was fit in an active, healthy way.

“Fuck me,” Layne muttered like he was surprised but he was fighting a grin.

“Charming,” Astley replied, giving Layne a look to kill then his eyes sliced to Rocky and he greeted through thinned lips, “Rocky.”

“Jarrod,” she replied, her lips weren’t thin, they were soft, her face was still pale but with her makeup, her hair, that dress, even with her skin pale, she was a freaking knockout.

“It seems we’re practically dinner partners,” he remarked, edging a bit to the side to indicate his meaning and Layne turned his head to see Merry wasn’t wrong. Rocky’s double was sitting across from them. She didn’t have the blonde streaks in her hair and her hair wasn’t as long. She was definitely younger but the poise wasn’t there and he knew that even though she was sitting. She also didn’t have Rocky’s style. He could tell she had a great body but it was just on the wrong side of too toned and her tits were fake. He knew the last because she was wearing a dress that barely covered them.

Definitely didn’t have Rocky’s style.

The minute their eyes turned her way, hers shot down to her plate.

“Perhaps you can ask the hostess to seat you at a different table?” Astley suggested and Layne looked up at him to see the man’s gaze turned his way.

Then he twisted in his seat, looked at the packed restaurant and back to Astley. “I’m not thinkin’ that’s gonna work, big guy.”

“I’m certain something will open up,” Astley pressed.

Layne looked back at Astley’s table to see his woman, or, more accurately, his girl peeking at them but she again turned her eyes away when she caught his.

He looked back at Astley. “I’m not feelin’ in the mood to wait.”

“Layne, maybe we can –” Rocky started and he cut his eyes to her and she stopped.

“Look at their table, sweetcheeks. They’ve already been served. They’ll be gone soon and we’re all adults. It’ll be all right.”

“I think both Rocky and Marissa would be more comfortable –” Astley began but Layne shoved out of his side of the booth and stood, looking down the three inches he had on Astley.

Then he said, “I think Rocky would be more comfortable if you went back to your table and let us enjoy our dinner.”

“Layne –” Rocky whispered.

“Sit down,” Astley ordered, the pompous ass dick.

“Go back to your table,” Layne returned.

“This is ridiculous!” Astley snapped. “We can hardly –”

“You might not be able to eat next to a good woman you fucked over but we’ll be fine if you sit… your ass… down at your table.”

Astley glared up at him and Layne held his glare and counted. It took four beats for Astley to give up and turn to Rocky.

“As our attorneys are both enjoying their weekends then I’ll have to inform you here that the house will not be vacant tomorrow for you to get your things. I suggest you call your lawyers and they can make arrangements for an alternate date.”

Rocky’s face got even paler and her eyes shot to Layne.

That fucking dick.

“That’s okay,” Layne stated, sitting back down. “We’ll come over while you’re there.”

Rocky’s eyes bugged out of her head.

Layne grabbed his napkin and put it on his lap.

“I’m afraid that doesn’t work for me,” Astley replied.

Layne kept his gaze steady on Rocky. “Your name on the deed?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He looked at Astley. “Then she doesn’t need your permission to go to her own house. If it doesn’t work for you, tough. We’ll be there at ten o’clock.”

“You are not welcome in my home,” he clipped.

“Well, lucky for me, my woman half owns your home and I’m sure she’ll welcome me.” His eyes went to Rocky. “Won’t you, sweetcheeks?”

Slowly, Rocky closed her eyes.

Astley spoke and when he did it, he did it quietly, his tone had changed, something threaded through it, something that struck Layne as wrong but he couldn’t figure out what it was and Layne looked up to see he was addressing Rocky.

“You know what this is, Rocky. You know.” He shook his head and finished, “I didn’t expect this from you.”

Then he turned and walked back to his booth and while he was doing it, he stopped a waiter and said, “We’re leaving early. Bring our check to the hostess station.”

Astley pulled his girl out of the booth and Layne looked back to Rocky who had her elbow on the table, her fingers lightly touching her lips, her eyes were unfocused and pointed into the restaurant.

“Roc?” he called, her gaze shifted to him and it was troubled. He leaned forward, reaching out, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm down to the table to hold her hand. Then he whispered, “They’re leaving. It’ll be fine.”

“You knew,” she whispered back.

He didn’t respond.

“You knew,” she repeated. “You orchestrated this.”

Layne held her eyes and kept his mouth shut.

She looked over his shoulder and pulled her hand from his as a waiter appeared with their drinks. Layne looked to see Astley and his girl were gone.

“Have you had time to look over the menu?” the waiter asked after he set the drinks down. “I’m happy to answer any questions.”

“Give us a minute,” Layne ordered.

The waiter dipped his head, his hands pressed together in front of him like he was praying and he murmured, “Certainly.”

Fucking hell, this place was pretentious.

The waiter took off and Layne looked at Rocky.

“Roc –”

She started nodding and he didn’t know why.

Then she said, “This is okay. This is fine.” She straightened her shoulders and asked in a falsely bright voice, “It had to happen sooner or later, right?”

“Baby –”

He stopped talking because now she was shaking her head.

Then she said, “No, no, you’re right. You were right to do this. You should be in control. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Not like with Gabrielle. This is better. It was shorter and there were a lot less witnesses.”

“He needs to get some of his own back,” Layne told her and she started nodding again.

“Yes, of course. You’re right about that too. And you were right not to tell me. I wouldn’t have come.”

He sat back in his seat and took a sip of his beer, his eyes on her watching her eyes move anywhere but to him.

He put his beer down and asked, “So, if I’m right, why do I feel like I’m standin’ on a sidewalk lookin’ at your bloody mangled body after I shoved you under a bus?”

Finally, her eyes darted to him. She stared at him a second before her face cracked and her mouth twitched up into a smile.

“I’m fine,” she said softly. “Seriously, you did the right thing. It’s over.”

“It isn’t,” he contradicted her. “We gotta go over there tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll do that. I don’t have much to pick up. Just some things I didn’t get before because… well, I didn’t have a place so I didn’t have anywhere to put them. It won’t take me long.”

“No way in hell I’m lettin’ you go over there with him and his girl there, Roc.”

“Honestly, Layne, it won’t take long.”

“Good, then with two of us, it’ll take half the time.”

She stared at him and Layne could tell she was thinking.

Then she decided, “I’ll take Merry.”

“Merry’s at the lake this weekend.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” She chewed her lip then said, “Dad’ll help.”

“Your Dad can’t lift boxes.”

“I’ll make them light.”

“Sweetcheeks, it’s been rainin’ three days and the rain isn’t supposed to clear until Wednesday. Your Dad probably isn’t feelin’ great about now.”

He knew he had her when her eyes started to flash.

“I’ll take Josie then,” she was beginning to sound desperate.

“I’m going.”

“Layne –”

Layne leaned forward. “Why are you so desperate for me not to go?” She opened her mouth to speak but he asked another question. “And what was his parting shot all about?”

She closed her mouth with a snap and her eyes scanned the ceiling and if she started whistling a tune, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

He leaned in further. “Sweetcheeks, you know I’m stubborn and you know I’ll get what I want and I’ll go at it all night until I get it, so spill. What’s goin’ on?”

She glared at him.

Then she said, “He knows about you.”

Layne nodded. “Yes, I would guess if you spent ten years livin’ with a guy you’d share history. So?” Her eyes shifted over his shoulder. “Rocky,” he warned.

Her eyes shifted back.

“Let’s just say you’re a hard act to follow.”

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, fucking 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 fucked 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 fuck!”

“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 fuckin’ 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.”

“No! No, that isn’t what this is,” Rocky put in and now Layne saw she was on the move, edging along the counter pressed against it as if she wanted the counter, cupboards and then the wall to absorb her. “I’m… I’ll be… you two just… I’ll be going.”

“Roc –” Layne started and her head snapped toward him but her eyes didn’t meet his.

“No, that’s okay, Layne, I’ll just… just let myself out.” She was sliding across the fridge now and looking anywhere but Layne and Melody. “You two just… enjoy your evening. I’ll let myself out.”

“Rocky.” He moved toward her and she started moving quicker, rounding the fridge, she caught her heel on the lip that separated the tile from the wood and went crashing down, her hand slamming into the wood first, followed by her right hip and thigh.

“Fuck!” he hissed, moving swiftly toward her.

“Ohmigod! Are you okay?” Melody, now wearing her robe, shot forward too.

Rocky waved a hand at them, facing the floor, pushing up, the heavy curtain of her hair obscuring her features.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m good.”

Layne bent and put a hand on her hip and one on her bicep but she pulled it violently out of his grip.

“I’m good,” she whispered to the floor, pushing forward, dragging her body away from him, she gracefully got up, movements fluid, as only Raquel could do, and gained her feet.

“Did you hurt anything?” Melody asked as Rocky kept her head dipped, much like Tripp did after Cosgrove got through with him, and pulled her jacket together using only two fingers because she was doing this with the hand still clutching her purse.

“No, I’m okay.” She was in profile to Layne and she shook her hair back and lifted a hand that he saw was trembling, pulling back the hair on the opposite side to him and tucking it behind her ear. He could see she shot Melody a false smile. “See, just fine. I’ll go.”

“Roc –” he started, putting his hand on her arm again but her head turned, slow, the movement liquid, she tipped it back and he caught half a second of her eyes, the bottom edges brimming bright with tears, their depths filled with a pain so stark, his body froze and his chest tightened, squeezing out all his oxygen then she looked to the ground and turned abruptly, breaking contact with his hand.

“Have a good night!” she called and ran, her heels clicking on the wood, to the door.

Layne looked over his shoulder to Melody and growled, “Get dressed.”

Then he went after Rocky who was already out the door.

He caught her still opened car door as she folded herself in it, her hand shooting out to the handle and he pushed back as she pulled in.

“Rocky, hang on a second,” he said, crouching in the open door.

She kept her eyes glued to the steering wheel. “You should go in.”

“Look at me.”

“You should…” She took a deep breath and then turned to him with a bright, totally fake smile. “Thanks for dinner. It was nice. My treat next time.” She looked to the house then back at him before she said softly, “You should go in, Layne. She probably feels like an idiot. You need to talk to her.”

“Roc –”

“Go in,” she whispered, her voice suddenly trembling so much it was hard to hear in more ways than one. She was losing it. “Layne, please get out of my door and go into the house.”

He started to lift a hand to her face saying, “Baby –”

Her head jerked forward and her eyes squeezed closed. “Don’t! Please, please just go in.”

He stared at her profile and clenched his teeth. Then he straightened, stepped out of the door, slammed it, she fired up her car and backed out fast, accelerating forward even faster.

He watched until he lost sight of her car then stalked into his house, the look of Rocky, tears and pain in her eyes, burned on his brain, and he threw open the storm door, the front door, slammed it and moved through the house, taking the steps two at a time.

Melody was in his bedroom quickly yanking down a t-shirt. He saw her bag on the floor and she couldn’t have been there more than two hours and the fucking thing had already exploded. There were two glossy shopping bags from her store lined against the wall.

“You know I was shot nine weeks ago,” he bit out.

She didn’t look at him when she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“That coulda had a different ending, I thought for a second before I walked into this goddamned house that someone might have broken in and I came in armed.”

She jerked her head toward him. “Tanner, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t. Fuck, even in LA, you pulled that shit, that coulda happened. You know better.”

“I know!”

He kept at her. “It coulda been Jas comin’ home from his date and gettin’ an eyeful.”

She shook her head and rushed to her bag, dropping to her knees and shoving things in.

“Things have changed, Melody, from when it was you and me and sun and a population of people with bleached teeth in LA.”

“I know, Tanner,” she told her bag.

He stared at Melody but all he could see was Rocky.

Fuck! Why couldn’t he get that fucking look on Rocky’s face out of his goddamned head?

She zipped her bag closed and he watched her. Melody was tall, lean, great tits and they were real. Thirty-five. Long, dark hair. Blue eyes. She was also funny and sweet.

Fuck him.

Layne made a decision.

“DeeDee, come here,” he said softly and her head shot back.

“I saw,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head and looked down at her bag and, slowly, she straightened.

She had grace, she was in tune with her body, but she wasn’t fluid.

She turned to look at him.

“I didn’t get it, I didn’t understand why you… with me, why you wouldn’t…” She shook her head and took in a deep breath then continued. “I looked through your stuff. I found the envelope. I saw the pictures. I know who that woman is.”

Layne’s anger had ebbed out of him but it came back, slicing through him like a blade.

He didn’t speak because he couldn’t without yelling.

“Some of them had her name on the back,” she whispered. “Rocky.”

“That was not cool,” he said low.

“I know,” she replied quietly then tilted her head to the side. “Are you back with her?”

“No. We’re workin’ a case together.”

“She’s a detective?”

“She’s a teacher.”

She stared at him a second, thrown, then she smiled and it wasn’t a happy smile.

“A teacher,” she whispered.

“DeeDee –”

“Even with that case with that drug guy who shopped at my store, you didn’t let me work it with you and I begged you to let me help.”

“That wasn’t safe.”

“Is this?” she asked but she knew. She’d called a couple of weeks after he was shot and he’d told her because he figured she’d eventually know. Since he’d left LA, she visited him during her vacations and he definitely didn’t wear a shirt the entire time she was there. Even though she couldn’t know it was the same case, she sure as fuck knew his work wasn’t always a trip through the light fantastic. “You want to be with her,” she surmised.

“It isn’t like that,” he returned.

“Yeah?” She tipped her head again and then pointed to the floor. “A girl knows, Tanner, and during that scene, you didn’t take your eyes off her. And after it, you went after her. You told me to get dressed then you went after her.”

“She just fell to the fuckin’ floor, Melody,” he reminded her, crossing his arms on his chest.

She stared him in the eyes then she whispered, “You went after her.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he clipped.

She bent double and grabbed the handle to her bag, lifting it up, she hooked it on her arm and walked to him.

Her hand came up, fingers fiddling with the lapel on his jacket, her eyes watching them.

“I knew this would look good on you,” she whispered. “But then, anything would look good on you.”

“DeeDee.”

“What’s in those bags,” she jerked her head back to indicate his room, “they’re for you.”

He uncrossed his arms and both hands went to her waist. “DeeDee,” he murmured and her eyes lifted to his as her hand came to his neck.

“I hope you get her back.” She was still whispering and Layne’s hands got tight on her waist. “In those pictures, you looked happy. Even when you’re laughing, you don’t look completely happy, but in those pictures…” She stopped and her fingers squeezed his neck. “I hope you get her back and she makes you happy like that again.”

Then she pulled away from his hands and walked to the stairs and, when she did, Rocky’s face came back into his head.

So Layne stood there and listened to the front door slam.

Then he heard her car door slam.

Then he heard her car driving away.

And he let her go.