Undeniable: A Friends To Lovers Romance (Love Desired Book 4)

by Cassie Verano

  “Is Peyton in today?” I heard an older woman say.

  Peyton’s eyes went wide, and then she frowned and pouted. “That’s Miss June. I’ll be back,” she said.

  I walked further down the aisle I’d started to find the book I needed. It wasn’t long before I heard Peyton and Miss June’s voices reaching my ears.

  “When I was closing up Clothes Minded, I saw you and that Lexington boy knocking at the door last night with a picnic basket. But after a while, he disappeared, and I came knocking and didn’t get an answer. Is there something that you want to tell me, Peyton?”

  “No, Miss June.”

  “Are you sure? Because when you let him in, you two looked cozy to me. I thought I saw a bottle of wine and candles sticking out of that basket.”

  My hand stilled on the book I’d just lifted from the shelf, and I focused on their conversation.

  “There were no candles, Miss June.”

  “It seemed like there was at least one?”

  Peyton laughed, and I recognized it as the one that she used when she was holding on to her patience by a thin thread.

  “I assure you, there was no candle. Is there something I can assist you with purchasing today, Miss June?”

  “No. I just noticed that he’s been hanging around a lot. And while it’s nice that he finds you attractive, don’t you think it’s too soon to be dating?”

  I walked to the end of my aisle and walked two aisles over, bringing me closer to the ladies but staying behind the shelf so I couldn’t be seen.

  “Miss June! We’re not dating.”

  “Good for you then, honey. But Bryce may not feel the same way.”

  “Miss June, you do know that Bryce and I went to school together?”

  “Well, of course, honey. You both grew up around here in Summer Cove. It’s not like there are many options.”

  “I meant college, too. He’s a longtime friend, that’s all.”

  “Well, you make sure that it stays that way. I don’t think he means you any good.”

  “What would make you come to that conclusion, Miss June?”

  I could hear the mock outrage in Peyton’s voice, and I struggled not to laugh out loud.

  “Have you read those books he’s written? They’re really dirty, naughty books,” Miss June whisper shouted.

  “Oh? I didn’t know that,” Peyton said.

  “Yes, the only reason I know is that my sister, Minnie, told me. I wouldn’t be caught dead reading one of his books.”

  “And yet, you purchased three autographed copies of his latest books at the signing,” Peyton pointed out.

  “I...I...I bought those for Minnie. Uh, they were gifts for my sister. I didn’t look at them. I would do no such thing. They’re not my taste. An abomination is what it is!”

  “Well, because I haven’t read a single word from those books, I would have no idea that they’re an abomination. And how you know that Miss June is very interesting,” Peyton said.

  I couldn’t resist it any longer. Stepping from behind the shelf, I came up on Miss June from behind.

  “His tongue was a brandishing iron on her body, engraving his initials and ownership over every pore. Every surface. As he licked his way up her thigh, she felt a searing hot blaze take aflame, causing her desire to pool between her thighs. Blowing softly over her clit, Dirk slid one finger into Lalah’s pussy, twisting and turning until she dripped down his digit. Sliding his finger out, he tasted her,” I recited from my novel Heat Factor.

  Miss June was shaking, unable to turn around and face me. I could see the tension lines in her body, the way her ass cheeks clenched tightly in her polyester pants. The blush rising on her neck crept around, and I could only imagine her face was beet red.

  Peyton’s astonishingly blue eyes were wide and full of delight as she struggled to maintain a composed face.

  “Oh my gosh! I never!” Miss June said, spinning around facing me. Her face was beet red as I suspected, and her nipples were two hardened erect points poking through the soft fabric of her blouse.

  “I’m inclined to believe that. Although I suspect that you wish you could,” I said to Miss June, pointing at her nipples.

  She glanced down, and her mouth dropped open before she turned around and faced Peyton again.

  “I cannot believe you allow such depravity in your store.”

  Turning back to me, she said, “You, Bryce Lexington, are a maliciously, sinful, obnoxious, disgusting man!”

  “So glad I’m doing my job, Miss June,” I said with a bow.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head before turning and leaving the store. Looking at Peyton, I shrugged with my hands out at my side, “Sorry?”

  Laughing loudly, Peyton turned red. She took a few seconds to gain her composure before saying, “Don’t be. Hopefully, that will keep her away for a while. That woman drives me insane.”

  Waving a hand, I said, “Ah, all she needs is someone to come and sweep those cobwebs from her chimney a time or two, and she’ll be a’ight.”

  “Cobwebs, Bryce?” Peyton asked, stifling her giggle behind her hand.

  “Hell yeah. If she wasn’t so uptight, somebody might be obliged to help her ass out.”

  “Including you?” Peyton asked with a mischievous grin.

  “She’s not my type,” I said, the smile dropping from my lips.

  “Oh, you have a type? And what would that be?” she asked.

  “I think you know.”

  “Do I?” she challenged.

  Walking away from her and heading to the aisle I’d left, I called over my shoulder, “Peyton, quit playing with magic you don’t understand.”

  CHAPTER 13 – PEYTON

  “THANKS FOR STOPPING back by here tonight, Bryce. I hope your family will forgive me for taking up your time,” I said as we stepped into the breakroom.

  I tried not to scoot away when he sat beside me. His scent and the awareness of his sexual energy and body were potent. I’d lost control last night, and I vowed I wouldn’t do it again.

  The things I’d said to Karina and Rhonda were true, and I didn’t want my friendship with Bryce to suffer because of other people’s disillusionment. Neither of us needed that type of stress.

  But I also knew that I’d probably never experience with another man what I’d experienced last night with Bryce. It had taken everything in me to tell him to pretend that it never happened. And I’d cried about it in bed last night. I should never have “played with magic I don’t understand,” to put it in his words.

  “By family, that would be Bishop. He and Gianna have their hands full with the wedding, so he squeezes me in when he can. Between the wedding, Gianna, and his fitness facilities, he doesn’t have a lot of time. We usually get our bonding time in during the first part of the morning on his basketball court, or late at night in his gaming room.”

  “So, me constantly needing your assistance is entertaining you, is what you’re telling me?”

  Laughing, he said, “Kinda sorta.”

  “Well, let’s get to work,” I said.

  Bryce pulled up his laptop and took me to a website that appeared to be a winery.

  “What’s this?”

  “One of the things you have to do is feed your readers’ imagination. You do that by providing an experience for them. And one of the things that you can do for your romance reader is to pair bottles of wine with new releases, or maybe old releases. That will boost lagging sales of your older books.”

  “Wine? Hmm...I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Right, and this vendor specializes in doing these. I met him a couple of years ago, so I know if you’re interested, I can get his products for you at a discounted rate.”

  Rubbing the back of my neck again, I wondered where I would get the money to do all the things that Bryce was suggesting. Mostly everything that was done thus far was all because of volunteer efforts. Construction, materials, labor, all of it came from the citizens of Summe
r Cove.

  But everyone would not be so willing to volunteer. At a certain point, my luck would run out, and I’d have to dip into my savings. Either that or get a small business loan because asking my parents was out of the question.

  “An invaluable source that you’re overlooking is the local schools. Somerset County gets government funding so they can promote literacy or purchase books for their students. You should be in on that.”

  “Wow! I never thought about a partnership with the school system. I’ll contact Frieda Henman, the board of ed’s board chair,” I said, growing excited at the prospect of partnering with the school system.

  “See, you’ve got what it takes to make this happen and be successful at your dream, Peyton. You just have to think outside the box. You’re too deep inside the problems to be able to see the resolution.”

  I removed my headband from my head and pulled my fingers through my hair, loosening it.

  “You’re right about that. What I thought was supposed to be a dream sometimes gets to be a burden. Because I know I have to make a living at this to be successful. Not to mention the others who depend on me for an income,” I said.

  “Then maybe you need to get them bought in on the idea that they’re business partners on this thing. Another thought, and this will be a bit pricier, but I don’t mind investing—”

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I said, shaking my head as rapidly as I spoke.

  “Shhh...it’s a tax write-off for me. Hell, we can even consider me a partial investor in your business,” he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “No, Bryce, I can’t ask that of you.”

  “You’re not asking me. I’d like to do it. It’s not like I haven’t considered doing something like this before with bookstore owners back in L.A. If I can do it there, why not at home?”

  “I just don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Peyton, I’m not trying to take over. Just think about it, and we can discuss that another time,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said with a single nod.

  “So, I was thinking about Square Readers or kiosks to avoid having lines forming around the registers.”

  “We don’t get that much business. Besides, it would impact the hours and pay of Anita, Claire, and Maggie. And I don’t want to do that, Bryce. Some things are useful, but we’re a small town, and I don’t want to lose that feel completely in here. You know what I mean?”

  His eyes sparkled with compassion, and he shook his head. “Sure, I do, Peyton, and I respect that. So, the kiosks and readers are out the door, but how about Facebook or Twitter?”

  “What about them?”

  “Create a page for the store and give away a book a month and make the announcement on your social media page. All month long, you can use the page to drum up excitement and get people bought in. Do it for your new releases and then announce the winner live on your page on the last Friday of the month. You can even turn that into a small event in the store if you’d like,” he said.

  “That’s awesome!” I said as excitement grew in me. “The residents of Summer Cove would love it.”

  “Aye, don’t you have a women’s book club?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Why not men’s? You can host the meetings here or at The Revolving Tavern or Pep’s Pizzeria.”

  “That’s a great idea, Bryce. I don’t know how many male readers we have here in Summer Cove, but I’m more than sure there’s a market waiting to be tapped into and generates income for those vendors.”

  “Right. Another thought, what’re you currently doing for your young adult readers?”

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head, wondering why I hadn’t generated any of these ideas.

  “Host YA events to bring in a fresh, new audience of readers. You’re the only limit on this thing, PJ.”

  My eyes widened, and laughter poured from my lips. No one had called me that in years.

  “You remembered?”

  “Yeah, you were my girl. Why wouldn’t I?” he said in a soft, intimate voice as his eyes searched my face.

  “My sister and brother started calling me that because my parents always called me Peyton Joanne, instead of just Peyton.”

  “Or Joanne?”

  “Not that. I hated that name. It sounded so old, and it was my grandmother’s name on my mother’s side. You were the first kid in school to ever call me PJ. And somehow it stuck from there. Only Mr. Popular Guy,” I teased.

  Bryce’s eyes raked slowly over me, making me grow warm inside.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I recall you being pretty popular, too. You had lots of friends, and everyone liked you,” he said.

  “Mm, yeah, but I couldn’t afford to let anyone get too close.”

  “But you did,” he said, challenging me with a lifted eyebrow.

  “That’s because you wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stopped inviting friends to my house because it was humiliating. They always waited until they had an audience to say the most denigrating things.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks as I recalled all the times my parents talked down to me in front of my friends.

  Bryce reached out and covered my hand with his, squeezing it.

  “You’re good, girl. You’ve gotta let that shit go.”

  Tears filled my eyes as I recalled the time Bryce showed up uninvited. My parents were hosting a Halloween party, and my sister and brother had gone to an overnight Halloween party at a friend’s house. I was stuck at home alone, and he’d come trying to convince me to leave.

  My father invited Bryce in and tried to give him some liquor, to which Bryce thankfully refused. And then my mother proceeded to flirt with Bryce, feeling him up in front of everyone else. My father didn’t care what she was doing. Bryce finally escaped my mother’s nefarious intentions, and I snuck him past the guests and into the kitchen. To my chagrin, my father was humping the neighbor across the street in the pantry with the doors partially open.

  That was only one of such embarrassing encounters through the years. Unlike other friends who’d seen less humiliating behaviors my parents displayed, Bryce never judged me. Never looked at me with pity or as if I had something to be ashamed of.

  I didn’t notice the moment the tear escaped my eye. If it hadn’t been for his massive thumb gently wiping it away, I probably wouldn’t have realized I’d started crying.

  Looking into his face, I shook my head. “Why does it still bother me so deeply?”

  “Because they’re your roots. Your parents are the foundation of who you are deep inside. Good, bad, right, or wrong, they’re the source of the woman you’ve grown to be. Throughout life, all these people, experiences, impressions, and challenges have risen to add to the journey on developing you. And you’ve taken all these bits and pieces and crafted an incredibly beautiful woman. But at the heart of it all is still the pain you have from not feeling accepted by your parents.”

  I wiped away my tears and smiled, trying to break up the intensity of the moment.

  “I’m so sorry for getting all weepy-eyed on you. I guess you think I’m crazy, huh?”

  “Not at all,” he said, his eyes still scouring my face.

  My heart was thumping in my chest loudly, and I felt as if the space between us was dwindling. As if there was not enough room to breathe as the memories from the night before clouded my mind.

  “When’d you become this super rational psychotherapy guy?” I laughed.

  “You said I always was.”

  “Yeah, well. I wasn’t sure about the psychology piece. Not sure when you became that guy.”

  Laughing, he replied, “Oh, I’m that guy now?”

  “Yes, something like that.”

  “Are you good, PJ? I mean good in here where it counts?” he asked, pressing my hand against my chest.

  I covered his hand with mine in a move that surprised me and him both; I could see it in his warm chocolate eyes.

  “Not yet,�
� I replied honestly. “But I hope that someday I will be.”

  “I want that for you, too.”

  “Do you?”

  The gap between us was getting even smaller as Bryce’s head leaned towards mine. And I wasn’t ready to put any further space between us although fear filled my heart.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled just as his lips brushed mine.

  I held up my hand and pulled back.

  “Don’t run from me, PJ.”

  “Last night—”

  “Was the stuff dreams are built on. Don’t deny what you know you want, girl,” he said, cupping the back of my head and pulling me close again.

  The excitement mingled with trepidation swirled around my insides, fluttering from my throat, swirling down my chest, and finishing in a graceful landing in the pit of my belly. And just when I thought the feeling was complete, it soared up to my heart and dipped down right between my thighs, fluttering its beautiful wings of desire.

  How the hell could I deny him when he continued to make me feel this way?

  The attraction between Bryce and I was undeniable. I’d known it since he’d returned but tried so hard to ignore it. The kisses he dropped on me out of nowhere always left me out of sorts. The desire licked me up like it was a flame, and I was the paper. And now here it was sitting like a thousand beautiful butterflies floating all around us.

  Bryce’s tongue licked the seam of my lips, breaking through the seal that was the last thing keeping us apart. His approach was tender but possessive as he swept his tongue around the inside of my cheek and then to the other side.

  Hungrily I moved my tongue towards his wanting to taste him as much as he sampled me. Our tongues slid across one another, plunging and dipping here and there, our mouths devouring each other.

  In the break room, the only sound was the smacking of our lips and tongues, the clacking of our teeth, and the whooshing of our breaths together. My head tilted at an angle matching the slant of Bryce’s.

  Somewhere in the heat of the moment, a moan escaped my throat, urging Bryce to take another step. His long fingers moved to grab the strands of my hair, tugging my head backward as he was the first to break the kiss.