Layne turned his head and stared out the window, her words sliding across his skin light as a feather but the sensations they made him feel were anything but light.

“Fucked up with those kids,” Layne told the window.

“I hear a lot about what goes down at home and I see the consequences in my classroom and in those halls and you may not have made all the right choices, I know you went away, but you didn’t turn your back on them. I don’t know enough about it to know if you made mistakes but I know enough about kids to know whatever mistakes you made, they weren’t bad ones and, therefore, my professional opinion is, you didn’t f**k up.”

His eyes cut back to hers.

“At least not royally,” she finished, giving him another dimple.

Christ, she didn’t shut up, he was going to rip that soft sweater and tight skirt off her body and take her under the window.

Therefore, Layne didn’t weigh his words or pick his time to announce, “You’re spending the night.”

She blinked and asked, “What?”

“You’re spending the night,” he repeated.

She looked to the door then to him. “Why?”

“’Cause your doors and security haven’t been changed and ‘cause you’re my woman. A man and a woman together don’t sleep at separate houses, not every night, even if kids are involved,” he explained. “We want folks to think this is real, we gotta make it look real and the way you look, sweetcheeks, no man is gonna believe I got hold of somethin’ like that and she doesn’t sleep in my bed,” he paused before he finished, “regularly.”

She was staring up at him, lips parted, eyes wide, off-balance.

Then she shook it off and reminded him, “Devin is sleeping on your couch.”

“Yeah,” Layne replied.

“So, where are you going to sleep? With one of the boys?”

“I’m gonna sleep here,” he jerked his head to the bed.

“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.