“I’ll get it,” Layne replied but he didn’t get it. He walked up to her back, fitted his front to it and slid his arms along her belly, looking over her shoulder to see she was grating cheese.
She didn’t stop grating when she noted, “Don’t keep beer in my stomach fridge, Layne.”
“Mm,” Layne replied through a smile, dropped his head and kissed her neck.
Then he lifted a hand, yanked her ponytail holder out and her hair tumbled to her shoulders.
She stopped grating and her neck twisted so she could glare at him. “Seriously, stop doing that.”
Layne was still smiling when he replied, “Seriously, no.”
Her eyes narrowed then she went smack into stare down. Layne held her stare as his other arm wound around her again and when he was done with the stare down, his arms tightened and he tickled the sensitive skin at her sides.
Her body jerked and twisted as her head shot back, her hands dropped the cheese and the grater, went to his wrists and put pressure on as she shouted through annoyed laughter, “Stop it, Layne!”
“Nope,” Layne returned.
“Stop!” she yelled, still twisting in his arms, putting pressure on his wrists and now she was giggling.
Layne was relentless and he kept at her because he missed this. He knew he missed it but having it back, hearing Rocky’s laughter, feeling her body against his, doing something normal like preparing to eat dinner together, he realized he didn’t miss it, he missed it.
And when that feeling threatened to overwhelm him, he stopped tickling her, his arms went around her tight and hard and he buried his face in the hair at her neck.
When he didn’t speak and after she controlled her body and laughter, she called, “Layne?”
“Right here, baby,” Layne said into her neck, not lifting his head but giving her a squeeze.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah,” he replied.
Her body relaxed but her hands tightened on his wrists.
Then she asked, “Is Tripp okay?”
“Yeah.”
Her hands at his wrists slid along his arms so they were crossed on his.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He lifted his mouth to her ear and answered, “Nothin’, which means everything. I forgot that, I forgot how nothing meant everything.”
“Layne,” she breathed.
“Love you, baby.”
Her hands squeezed his arms. “Love you too, sweetheart.” She was quiet then she said, “But Layne?”
He lifted his head. “What?”
“New rule. You can’t make me cry into grated cheese again.”
He turned her around to face him and saw the tracks her silent tears left on her face. His hands moved to her jaws and he used his thumbs to wipe away the wetness.
“Or any foodstuffs,” she went on and his eyes went from his thumbs to hers.
“Right,” he whispered. “No making you cry into… foodstuffs.”
She grinned up at him, put her hands to his jaws, lifted up on tiptoe and touched his mouth with hers.
She didn’t take her mouth from his when she whispered, “Tacos.”
Then she pulled gently away and opened the cupboard to take out the flour tortillas.
Layne went to the fridge and got himself a beer, he got her a fancy-ass one and then he sat in front of the TV with his woman leaned up against him and ate heaven, Mexican style.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Enough?
Her hand came up to his jaw, her lips at his ear, Rocky whispered urgently, “Jasper.”
*
Layne’s eyes opened and he saw dark.
His cell phone on Rocky’s nightstand was ringing but Rocky didn’t move. She was out, it was the dead of night.
Layne’s neck twisted and he reached for his cell as his eyes took in Rocky’s alarm clock. It was one oh seven in the morning.
Fuck.
He looked at the display on his phone and quickly flipped it open while Rocky stirred at his side.
“Everything okay, Bud?” Layne asked Jasper.
“Dad,” Jasper replied and the tone of that one word made Layne squeeze Rocky then swiftly slide out from under her.
“Talk to me,” Layne ordered, coming to his feet at the side of the bed.
“It’s Keira,” Jasper whispered, sounding freaked out.
Fuck!
“What’s Keira?” Layne asked, he was moving through the dark room to get clothes. In between the office and Rocky’s, he’d gone home and packed a bag. He found it and started pawing through it as he heard Rocky moving in the bed.
“I don’t know, she’s out, she’s in my car and she’s out, Dad. Passed out. I’ve been drivin’ around, tryin’ to get her to wake up, talk to me. I can’t take her back to Mr. and Mrs. Callahan like this. They’ll freak. But it’s way passed her curfew and they’re gonna freak anyway. I don’t know what to do.”
“Break it down for me, Bud,” Layne demanded, his phone between ear and shoulder, he tugged up his jeans, the light came on, Rocky was out of bed.
“We went to a party. Dad… shit, okay… shit,” Jas hissed and stopped speaking.
“Jasper, listen to me, boy, you need to give me information right now. Do not worry about getting in trouble. Focus.”
There was a pause then, “Okay, well, there was beer and we had some.”
Layne pulled a tee out of his bag and yanked it on, keeping his phone to his ear as best he could as Rocky disappeared into the walk-in closet.
“Right,” he prompted when Jasper said no more.
“It wasn’t that much, Dad, swear. Swear. I had one or two because I was drivin’. Keira didn’t have much more. I swear, Dad. No way she should be passed out, not like this.”
“Keep talking,” Layne had grabbed his boots and Rocky was out of the closet wearing unzipped jeans and carrying a sweater.
“She was fine one second, not drunk or anything, and then the next she started stumbling around, acting funny, totally out of it. It didn’t take long, minutes, just minutes, Dad, and she passed out. I carried her to the car and started drivin’ around. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Has she been sick?”
“No, no way. She wasn’t that drunk.”
“She breathin’ okay?”
“Yeah, totally fine. Sometimes she mumbles, moves around. She’s just passed out.”