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“Whatever.”
Michael sighed. “Which house?”
Gabriel pointed. Layne’s house was immaculate in the sunshine, all white pillars and stone facing that reminded Gabriel of her comment about a serial killer living there. Perfect landscaping, too, though he’d bet Michael had already spotted twenty areas where the workers had cut corners and used crap plants.
Gabriel was unbuckling his seat belt and trying to figure how to spin the transportation issue, when Layne came flying out the front door.
Jeans. Forest-green turtleneck. Braid. Glasses. After the getup she’d been wearing last night, it reminded him of those super-hero cartoons he’d watched when he was a little kid. The ones where only a few select people got to know what hid behind the meek-mannered exterior.
How had he never realized how hot she was?
She hesitated halfway to the truck, noticing that he wasn’t alone. Gabriel slid out of the cab.
“Sorry,” he called. “I don’t have the car, so my brother had to drive.” He came around the front of the truck to meet her.
She cast a glance at Michael, looking flighty. “There’s a problem.”
“Is your dad still home?” Gabriel glanced at the front door, ready for her father to burst out with a shotgun.
“No . . . but Simon is.” She hesitated. “Our mom never showed up.”
The more he heard about her mother, the more Gabriel wanted to find the woman and shake some sense into her.
“He can’t stay home alone,” Layne rushed on. “I’d say you could come in, but if my dad came home early ”
“Statutory rape. I remember.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Yeah.”
God, this figured. Nick taking the car was probably an omen.
Unless . . . could this be an elaborate way for her to back out?
Maybe she’d had second thoughts when he’d pulled up the driveway. Maybe she didn’t want anything to do with him after all.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I get it.”
“No! I’m not . . .” Layne licked her lips. “I’m not backing out. I’m wondering . . .”
Some hair was coming loose from her braid, and if Michael wasn’t sitting right there, Gabriel would have tucked it back into place.
No, he’d be pulling the elastic free, unwinding the plaits . . .
Focus. “Wondering what?”
She took a deep breath. “Would it be okay if Simon came with us?”
CHAPTER 27
Layne sat at the kitchen table and watched Gabriel glare at his trig textbook. He had a fresh piece of notebook paper in front of him, a sharpened pencil clenched between his fingers.
A murderous expression on his face.
“Come on,” she said. “You can’t hate math that much.”
“Trust me. I can.” He glanced up. “You hungry? Want something to drink?”
“I want you to quit stalling.”
