by Kendall Ryan
Jeez. Whatever date she has planned with Duncan must be good if she’s being this crazy about making a good impression. He’s seen me after a full night of sobbing over Josh. Compared to that morning, I look photo-shoot ready right now. But if it’s that important to her, I’ll swap out the yoga pants for a proper pair of jeans. At least until Duncan leaves. Then I’m going right back to yoga pants.
Normally my getting-ready routine takes thirty minutes, forty-five if I’m going to wash and blow-dry my hair, which today, I am. Gram has unleashed enough aerosol on this house today. I don’t need to contribute my dry shampoo to that health hazard.
Once I’m all toweled off and blow-dried, I pick out a ruby-red sweater that Gram bought for me last Christmas and shimmy on a pair of jeans. Nice jeans, not my favorite comfy ones that have well-placed holes in the knees. Just as I’m swiping on my favorite peachy lip gloss, the doorbell rings. Perfect timing.
“Can you get that?” Gram yells from somewhere downstairs. “I’m in the middle of something.”
First she makes me change, now I’m playing doorman? Duncan better be at the door with the Queen of England at this rate. I giggle to myself as I imagine myself trying to figure out how to curtsy.
“Coming!” I call out as I head down the stairs two at a time. Fall is coming to a close, and I don’t want to leave Duncan out in the cold.
“Hey, Dunc—”
I’ve got half a sentence out by the time I’ve swung the door all the way open, welcoming today’s surprise visitor. No, not the Queen of England. This guest is far more nerve-racking.
Josh Hanson is standing on my front porch, two bouquets of flowers in his arms.
Am I hallucinating from all the cleaning products I’ve been breathing in?
What the hell is he doing here? I’ve just barely started considering the idea of getting over him. And that’s already been hard enough.
I find myself sputtering like a car that won’t start, unable to form a sentence, not even a word. I must look ridiculous, standing here with my eyes wide as the color drains from my cheeks. Ninety percent of me wants to slam the door and sprint back upstairs to the safety of my bedroom.
But I don’t slam the door. Because there’s still ten percent of me that, for some twisted reason, is fucking rejoicing that he’s here.
We stand there for a moment, staring at each other until he finally breaks the silence.
“These are for you.” He nods toward one of the bouquets—half red roses, half sunflowers. They’re absolutely gorgeous.
“Is the other one for some other girl?” I snap, my throat closing up a little more with each syllable.
Josh snickers. “They’re for Gram. I don’t think she counts as some other girl.”
Damn it. Duh, Peyton. Get it together.
Right on cue, Gram walks up behind me and lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Spotting the flowers, she coos in delight. “So sweet of you, Josh. But you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Of course I did. You helped me coordinate this, after all.”
I plant my hands firmly on my hips. So that is what’s happening here. Gram got sick of my moping and took the situation into her own hands.
“So Gram got to you, huh?” There’s venom in my voice, and I don’t even bother trying to sweeten it up.
He shakes his head. “No, I reached out to her. I wanted to check on you. Do you mind if I come in?”
The question is directed entirely at me, but I don’t have a clue how to answer it.
Do I mind? Did I mind when he disappeared from my life for two weeks? Did I mind when he randomly showed up at my favorite bar and ruined my celebration with my friends? Of course I mind. A bouquet of flowers isn’t going to make all of that disappear.
But the man I had all but given my whole heart to is standing here, on my front porch, clearly after talking to Gram about it. And that ten percent within me that doesn’t hate him, the part that wants to absolutely leap into his arms and kiss him again and again, takes control.
“Come on in.”
“No, no,” Gram says, reaching out to take the flowers from Josh’s arms. “I’ll get these in water. You two go have fun.”
I swivel my head around, squinting at Gram. Go have fun? What are we, first graders on a playdate?
“I did have somewhere in mind, if you’re up to it,” Josh says. “Scoops? On me?”
I look back at Gram, who’s smiling, her eyes urging me forward. Clearly, she knows something I don’t. And whatever it is, I want to find out. Which is going to mean taking a leap of faith and listening what Josh has to say.
Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it, weighing my options carefully, and then sigh my response. “Let me get my coat.”
The drive to Scoops is silent and short, and it’s not until we arrive that it clicks that it’s a bit cold for ice cream. The totally empty tables are evidence of that. It’s also only eleven in the morning, but stepping into the location of one of our first dates / business meetings unleashes the butterflies in my stomach all over again.
As I snag the same table we had last time, Josh walks straight to the counter, where I expect him to place an order for two chocolate-dipped cones. To my surprise, he asks if it’s possible to make chocolate-dipped ice cream in a dish. The woman behind the counter laughs, but agrees that for a regular like Josh, anything is possible.
When he takes his seat, pushing one dish of ice cream across the table to me, I finally get the opportunity to take him in. Underneath his black jacket, the blue Henley stretched tight across his chest makes his eyes absolutely sparkle. He’s as handsome as ever, although maybe a bit more tired than usual. Maybe he hasn’t been sleeping well either since we split.
“So, why the dish and not the cone?” I ask, suspiciously taking my first bite.
“I don’t want you to get your hands all covered in ice cream, because I have something to give you.”
“A written apology?” I tease.
“Not quite.”
Slipping a hand into his coat pocket, he pulls out a gold envelope with my name neatly printed on the front. He places it on the table between us, but as I lean forward to grab it, he reaches out a hand and lays it gently on top of mine, sending sparks dancing through me. I can’t believe one little touch can still affect me like that.
“Before you open it, though,” Josh says in a low voice. “I have something I need to say.”
“I’m listening.” I lift my chin, waiting.
“First, I want to apologize. There’s been a lot of miscommunication between us, and it’s been really unfair to you.” He has a tremor in his voice, a vulnerability that shakes me to my core. He really is sorry.
“Well, I want an explanation, that much is for sure.” I fiddle nervously with my ice cream spoon, dodging his eye contact.
“And I’ll give you one,” he says. “But first, open the envelope. Please.”
After taking a deep breath, I slide my thumb underneath the seal and pull two sets of airplane tickets from the envelope. New York to Buffalo. First class. They’re for this June.
“What? I . . .” I run my fingers over the glossy finish of the tickets, trying to make sense of them. “Is this a work trip or something?”
“No, Peyton.” Josh laughs. “We’re not going for business this time. I don’t want this to be a professional relationship anymore. I want to take you upstate the right way. Not as my business partner. As my girlfriend.”
My heart jolts in my chest. His girlfriend. I’ve wanted to hear him call me that since the day I first laid eyes on him.
“And these other two?” I ask, counting the tickets again. There are four.
“For Gram and Duncan. They already have it marked on their calendars. Gram seems to be healing well, but the flights are accessible in case she’s having any walking issues come June. We can Gram and Duncan to all the wineries. And we can swing by Claire’s and see the kids.” He grabs my hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. �
�Our families can meet. If you want, that is.”
The thought of Gram sitting on a swing, snapping pictures of Claire’s kids while Duncan chases them around the yard, brings a smile to my face. It’s a picture-perfect moment. One that almost seems too good to be true.
I look at the tickets again, splaying them out in front of me for closer examination.
“But these flights aren’t until June,” I say, suddenly skeptical. “Summer is so far away, and you don’t know—”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I do know. I know that I want to be with you this summer and next summer and for as many summers as you’ll have me.” A gentle smile creeps across his lips.
I want to kiss that smile more than anything. But there’s still one more thing to clarify first.
“But what about these past few weeks? What was that? What happened?”
Josh’s shoulders sag. “These past few weeks without you have been hell on fuckin’ earth, Peyton. But it was all a misunderstanding. When I was taken off as the point of contact for the project, it’s because Brody thought that I was biased about your business, that I only thought it would succeed because I was so into you. So I backed off the project to prove to him that my feelings for you and work were separate. But then Brody didn’t give you the details of that, and . . .”
He sighs again, shaking his head as he worries his fingers through his messy dark hair. “God, Peyton, I was such a jackass. I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. And then I showed up at Speakeasy, thinking you’d be excited to see me. I’m sorry about that.”
His defeat hangs in the air between us for a moment as I let his words soak in.
“That sounds so complicated,” I say finally. “So Brody didn’t tell me because . . .”
Josh scoffs, shaking his head. “Because he’s a man, I suppose. We can tend to get a little stupid on details and emotions sometimes. Especially when a beautiful woman is involved.”
A smile twitches the corner of my mouth. I grab his hand again, giving it an extra-tight squeeze. “You were smart enough to know you screwed up. And you were smart enough to book this trip. Which is just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Josh perks up, the weight disappearing from his shoulders. “So you’ll go?”
Leaning across the table, I press a light, delicate kiss against his lips. “With you? I’d go just about anywhere.” I pause, still leaning halfway across the table. “Well, on one condition.”
Josh raises a brow at me.
“As long as we don’t have to keep it professional,” I say, grinning.
He laughs, taking my cheek in his hand and bringing his lips to mine again. “Peyton, falling in love with you is the least professional thing I’ve ever done. And I want to keep doing it over and over again.”
Epilogue
Peyton
It’s been a year, almost to the day, since I rushed out of the Wine O’Clock office after my very first meeting with Josh. Three hundred sixty-five days, give or take, since the moment that redefined what it meant to be nervous. My business was on the brink of something incredible, something possibly life changing, and life decided to throw a monkey wrench in the situation in the form of a misdirected text message and a business partner almost too swoon worthy for me to keep my eyes on my goals.
And now, with a whole year of ups and downs behind us, I can say without the slightest doubt that Josh still gives me the same fluttery feeling in my stomach that he did the first day I met him. Only now, I know better than to think it’s nerves. It’s excitement. Because I’ve found the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with.
Today, after years of dating my way through douchebags and noncommittal jerks, it’s finally my day to wear white.
Well, to be clear, it’s not only my day. Josh and I aren’t the only couple sharing our first dance underneath the twinkling winery lights tonight. We’re toasting to true love with the other cutest couple the state of New York has to offer—Gram and Duncan.
To this day, both Josh and Duncan swear that they never discussed their individual plans to propose this summer. On our trip upstate, when Josh got down on one knee in the middle of the most gorgeous winery in town, Duncan laughed, pulled a ring from his pocket, and did the same.
It was the kind of moment I always thought was reserved only for fairy tales, and yet there we were, Gram and me, saying yes to our forevers. Now, four months later, we’re back at the same winery, surrounded by family and friends as we wind down an evening of dancing and wine drinking in celebration of saying I do.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Sabrina’s lavender bridesmaid dress is bunched up in one hand to keep her from tripping as she shimmies toward the dance floor. Libby is only a few paces behind her.
For a few moments, I gaze out at our friends and family on the dance floor. Claire is dancing with her husband, and Brody has one of Josh’s nieces in his arms. Warm satisfaction pulses through me as I watch them.
I turn toward Josh, half to gauge his reaction and half as an excuse to take in how freaking handsome my husband looks in his tux. Because damn. The man is fine. And he’s all mine.
He hasn’t been this dressed up since the infamous night at the hotel event last year. The night that started it all between us. Unless, well, you count the night I opened my texts to find the world’s most unexpected surprise.
“What do you think, babe?” I ask my brand-new hubby, gesturing toward the dance floor. “Should we join them?”
Josh shrugs and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Whatever you want, Mrs. Hanson.”
A proud blush blooms on my cheeks. I’m so happy to finally be officially his. After sneaking one last sidelong glance at my gorgeous husband, I lift my glass of wine from the table, and settle in at his side. “I think I’m all danced out.”
The song changes, and a familiar jazzy intro floats through the air. It only takes three or four notes for Gram to recognize the song and jump to her feet, clapping her hands in excitement.
“Our song!” she squeals, snagging Duncan’s hand. “Come on, guys. We gotta get down to this one.”
Gram and Duncan head out to the dance floor, leaving Josh and me hanging back at the table to watch them get their groove on.
Under the white linen tablecloth, I feel Josh’s hand shift and find its grip on my thigh, giving me a quick squeeze through the tulle of my wedding dress. A tingle of heat creeps along my spine. We’ve been public about our relationship for a long time now, but there’s still something incredibly sexy about stealing a secret kiss or a hidden touch here and there.
“Do you think anyone would notice if we slipped out of here and headed to our room a little early?” Josh whispers near my ear, his hushed tone barely loud enough for me to hear over the music.
I hide my smile as I think over his offer. We rented out the winery’s whole bed and breakfast for our guests, and it’s only a short walk away. We could be under the covers and tangled up in each other by the end of this song, if we’re fast.
“I think we might be able to make a clean exit. Why? Got something on your mind?”
Josh shakes his head and chuckles. “Oh, Mrs. Hanson. I’ve had a few things on my mind since the moment I laid eyes on you today.”
“Oh yeah?” I challenge him, playfully teasing my lower lip with the tip of my tongue. “And what might those be?”
“Well, number one, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how I’m the single luckiest man on the planet,” he says. “And, number two, although that dress is absolutely stunning on you, I haven’t for half a second stopped thinking about taking it off of you.”
A quiver dances between my thighs. I guess that’s all the convincing I need.
As the music crescendos and the guests on the dance floor get even rowdier, I lay my hand in Josh’s, taking a second to admire the gorgeous sparkly rock on my finger before letting him tug me to my feet. In one swift movement, he pulls me into a sweet, tender kiss that leaves me as breathless a
s ever.
I will never get tired of kissing this man. Thank God I have the rest of my life to do it.
“C’mon, baby,” he says coyly, lacing his fingers through mine. “Now’s our chance. Let’s get out of here.”
Our stealthy exit consists mostly of ducking behind caterers and drunk relatives, but it’s hard not to be noticed at your own wedding. Gram spots me from the dance floor and gives me an encouraging wink and a wave good-bye as we make our final escape. By the time we stumble into our room at the B&B, we’re both a mess of giggles and stolen kisses.
“God, I love you, Josh Hanson.” I sigh into the crook of his neck as his fingers work to unbutton my dress.
“I love you too, Peyton.”
As we fall into bed, Josh still in his tux and me in nothing but my lacy white panties and bra, I pull back momentarily from his kiss to pose the question that’s been on my mind for some time now.
“Babe? When we have kids, how are we going to tell them we met?”
Josh snickers, then pauses to give it some serious thought. “I guess we should probably leave out the part where I accidentally sent you a picture of my dick, right?”
“No shit.” I laugh, pressing a kiss against the line of his jaw. “I suppose we could just say we met at work, right?”
“Well, I’m not sure that would make us sound very professional, now would it?”
Josh squeezes my side and we both erupt into laughter again. We spend the next ten minutes offering up different phallic excuses, saying we bumped into each other buying bananas at the grocery store or at a Mets game waiting in line for hot dogs.
After plenty of giggles, Josh finally snaps his fingers, a devilish look in his eyes.
“I’ve got it,” he says with a wicked smile. “We’ll just tell them a message from me popped up in your junk mail.”
• • •
I hoped you enjoyed Josh & Peyton’s story! Up next is a decidedly steamy book called THE TWO-WEEK ARRANGEMENT with some majorly angsty vibes. Dominic Aspen is a grumpy-pants CEO single dad to twin little girls, who has zero time or inclination for a flirtation with his girl-next-door intern, Presley. But she’s never been very good at following instructions. Read an exclusive sneak preview on the next page.
