15
Layne
“So that’s it then? You’re leaving?” Parker asks. We’re crowded into Nash’s living room, all but the lion, who’s making himself scarce.
Sam has his arm around me. “I think it’s better if Layne and I lie low for a while.”
“Can’t get lower than here,” Declan grins, holding up the unmarked bottle of hooch.
“Exactly.” Sam shakes his head. “I don’t think Layne appreciated you guys getting drunk and singing outside our window at three a.m. last night.”
“That was a good ole Irish serenade,” Declan protests.
“Yeah well, you’re lucky my tiger wasn’t hungry,” I say.
“O’course I’m lucky. “‘Twasn’t my idea, ‘twas Laurie’s.”
The owl shifter holds up his hands when I mock frown at him.
“It’s true, ya never could resist a good love story. Neither can Nash, though he doesn’t show it.” D
