by Ranae Rose
“Yeah, he is. But it was probably just a one-off thing. Like you said, I’m a workaholic.”
She turned back to her salad preparations, her spine prickling with unease.
She wanted more than just a night with Elijah, but who was she kidding? She had enough on her plate as it was, and she couldn’t expect a hot, phenomenally sweet guy like Elijah to be satisfied with the crumbs of time and affection she could afford to spare.
It wouldn’t be fair to him, and indulging like she had the night before certainly wouldn’t be fair to Madison and Jace.
What Peyton wanted was at the bottom of a long list of priorities. Time were already tough, and making life harder for the people she loved was no way to find happiness.
* * * * *
It was just past seven-thirty when Elijah’s phone rang. He’d just stepped out of the shower, a towel slung around his waist. A cloud of steam followed him out of the bathroom as he crossed the kitchen and grabbed his phone from the counter.
Peyton’s name flashed across the screen, causing a rush of excitement to sweep through him, southward.
“Hey, good to hear from you.”
“Hey.” She sounded tired. Maybe she hadn’t slept well in his bed. “I got the flowers you sent. Thank you; they’re beautiful.”
“Same color as that dress you wore last night. I saw them on display in florist’s window, and I couldn’t resist.”
“That’s really sweet.” Her tone didn’t match her words.
“You sound stressed. Everything okay?”
A pause.
“Not really.” She sighed.
The heat filling him began to chill. “What the matter?”
“Nothing that you’re to blame for. I’m just pissed at myself – I really let my sister down. Her, and my nephew.”
“How so?”
She told him a story about coming home to find blood on the floor of an empty house, of speeding to the hospital to find her sister freshly stitched-up.
“That’s rough,” he said, “I’m sorry. But she could’ve called you, right? It’s not like you ignored her.”
“She could’ve, but she didn’t. I should’ve been there. Leaving her alone so soon after the accident was a bad idea.”
“You can’t be there all the time, though. You’re away at work a lot.”
“That’s different – I have to be, to keep a roof over our heads. Last night was … it was personal. Selfish of me.”
A heavy, sad feeling filled his chest. He splayed a hand on the cool faux-granite counter as his memory flashed back to the night before.
She’d enjoyed last night; there was no doubt about it. And she deserved that: pleasure. A break from the responsibilities that’d been weighing her down since her sister’s accident.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“No, no I can’t think of anything. But thanks for asking.”
“If there’s anything you or your family could use at home, I’d be happy to bring it by. Stop by after the end of my shift with whatever you need.”
“We’re okay.” It was almost like she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You sure?”
“I’ve been binge-cooking all day. We’ve got enough food for a week’s worth of dinners.”
“All right. I guess that only leaves one question: when can I see you again?”
All the heat rushing inside him condensed, threatening to combust. Just the thought of the night before made him hard as stone.
He wanted – needed – more of her. For his own sake, and hers.
She deserved pleasure – an escape – whether she realized it or not.
“Well, that’s the thing. I shouldn’t have stayed out like I did last night. I can’t justify taking that kind of time for myself when my sister and nephew need my help. Like you said, I’m already away from home a lot for work.”
Disappointment flared, reminding him of how badly he ached. For her.
He wasn’t about to let this ruin the good thing they’d started, though. If that was how she wanted things, he could work with it.
“You’re working tomorrow, right?” he asked.
“Yes. As long as my sister is still doing okay, that is.”
“I’m working too. Let me stop by Charmed around noon – bring you lunch.”
There was a pause, but when she replied, her tone sounded brighter than it had before.
“Okay.”
He stepped away from the counter, his chest swelling with a sense of victory.
Peyton wanted him. Wanted to see him again. As long as that was the case, he’d make sure it happened.
After last night, he knew what he’d suspected for a while: letting a woman like Peyton slip through his fingers wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted him, too.
The memory of her voice, her scent, and the feel of her soft skin – it surrounded him on all sides, like a fog. A gut feeling told him that the night before was the beginning of something good.
* * * * *
“Hey, man. Tempest for lunch in ten minutes?”
“Sorry, I can’t.” Elijah held his cell phone with one hand while he steered with the other.
“What? Why not?” Jackson sounded surprised, almost offended.
“I’ve got a lunch date.”
“You’re kidding me. Peyton is still willing to talk to you after Saturday night?”
He rolled through an intersection with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh, yeah. She’s willing to talk to me.”
“Glad I didn’t bet money on your chances with her after Rogers’ party. I would’ve lost it.”
“Yeah, you would’ve.”
Elijah slowed as he turned onto Orange Avenue. There were a couple open spaces near Charmed, and he took one, parking his cruiser by the curb.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said.
“Yeah, all right. Don’t fuck it up with her after what you made it through Saturday.”
“Wasn’t that bad.”
If Peyton had given him the cold shoulder after the party, he would’ve been happy to blame it on Rogers.
As it was…
“See ya.”
He hung up and grabbed the bag full of boxes of food: tacos de asada, and even a sealed container of Mexican shrimp cocktail.
She’d told him she liked Mexican, and there was no beating the fresh shrimp El Puerto Verde used in their dishes.
The shop looked great from the outside, the new window unbroken and gleaming. Inside, he found Peyton behind the counter, typing on a laptop. She looked up at him a split second after the bell over the door rang, and her entire expression changed.
CHAPTER 14
“Hey.” A smile broke her serious expression, slight at first, and then gleaming.
The sight of it lit up something inside him, set it aflame. He’d never seen her smile like that before.
“Brought lunch.” He set the bag down on the counter. “Is there somewhere we can sit to eat?”
“Yeah.” She tipped her head toward a curtain to her left. “We’ve got a table back here in the breakroom.”
The room was small but neatly arranged with a table, three chairs and a microwave. A scenic calendar hung on one wall, and what looked like a kid’s library book reminded him that she had a nephew.
She cleared it from the table, and he took the food out of the bag.
“I didn’t ask, but I hope you like shrimp.”
“Love it.”
“Good.”
He’d never been in the breakroom behind the counter at Charmed before. He’d never even eaten lunch with her before. But sitting down and sharing good takeout with her during his lunchbreak felt surprisingly easy. Natural.
It didn’t even matter if the food was good, although it was. He’d chew cardboard for half an hour if it meant he got to sit across from her.
She looked hot in a sleeveless white top, dark blue capris and jeweled sandals
. Her casual clothes didn’t cling like the dress she’d worn the night before had, but now that he’d seen every curve that lay beneath and tasted the skin her clothing concealed, there was something extra-tantalizing about even the most ordinary outfit.
Those capris got him just as hard as her lavender dress had – the one he’d sent her the flowers to match.
“Where’d you get these tacos?” she asked. “They’re good.”
“El Puerto Verde. Down on Stallman.”
She spooned pico de gallo into corn tortillas.
“How’s your sister?” He had to push visions of her coming out of the dress away, had to block the memory of the matching panties from his mind.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her family; it was just that her perfection was so damn distracting.
He could’ve talked all day about the way that fabric had clung to her hips, the way its subtle shimmer complimented her olive skin. And he normally didn’t think that way. A dress was a dress – he couldn’t have described it beyond that and the color.
But he knew it looked damn good on her. He’d go to his grave with the vision of her in that dress crystal-clear in his mind.
“Okay,” she said. “She hasn’t shown any signs of a concussion, so that’s good. That would’ve been the last thing she needed on top of everything else.”
“The accident, right? How’s her recovery going?”
“I thought it was going really well lately, but then she fell. I can’t really say she’s doing great if trying to make a pot of coffee turns into an emergency situation, can I?”
“You know, I once went on a call where a woman just about got herself killed trying to make a pot of coffee.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. She called 911, and I got there a couple minutes before rescue. Found her in shock on her kitchen floor.”
“What happened?”
“The coffee had just finished brewing, and she slipped up when she pulled the carafe out. Dropped it right on her foot. Broke her toes, and got second degree burns up and down her leg in the process.”
“That’s awful.”
“It gets worse. She had bacon frying on an electric skillet, and she caught the cord while trying to grab the counter as she fell. The skillet came down, hit her on the head, knocked her unconscious and gave her a few bacon grease burns.”
Peyton pressed a hand against her mouth. “Poor woman. That’s some seriously bad luck.”
“Point is, accidents happen. She was perfectly healthy. Could’ve happened to anyone.”
Peyton paused for a moment, then picked up a taco. “I see your point. I still feel like I hung my sister out to dry, though. And Jace … it had to be scary for him to find his mom like that. He’s the one who called 911.”
“That woman with the burns and the skillet concussion? Her husband and kids were sleeping while she made breakfast. Maybe they felt guilty for sleeping in while she did all that; I don’t know.”
“Madison is my big sister. Since our parents weren’t around much when we were kids, she was sort of a mother-figure to me. Always there to help me get through stuff most girls’ moms would’ve handled. Of course, she didn’t have anyone to do the same for her, just a whiny little sister who came running to her with every problem.”
Peyton flashed a small smile. “And I promise you, that was no small burden. During junior high, I don’t think a week went by that I didn’t find myself in the throes of some social melodrama. Madison was my rock. I owe her big time, and now that the tables have turned, I want to make good on that debt.”
“So you’ve been taking care of her since the accident.”
“The accident is just salt in the wounds life has already thrown at her. She lost her husband seven years ago, and it really hit her hard.”
“I’m sorry.”
Peyton shot him a pained look. “I’ve been trying to be a rock for her since then. Her and Jace. But I kind of suck at it.”
“You seem pretty dedicated to me. That’s what people want, especially when things get rough: someone they can rely on.”
“I’m trying to be reliable. It won’t bring her husband back or undo the accident, but unless someone invents a time machine, I’m doing the most that I can.”
“Not everybody has such dedicated family. Your sister is lucky. Your nephew, too.”
Her expression was skeptical as she opened one of the bottled waters he’d brought.
“What about you; do you have siblings?”
“One brother and two sisters. I’d like to think that any of them would have my back in any given situation, but if I’m being honest with myself, I was shitty to all of them at some point when we were kids. Especially my sister Paula.”
“All kids fight. Even my sister and I had our moments.”
“Yeah, well… My brother and I liked to think of ourselves as pranksters, back in the day. Thought we were hilarious doing shit like replacing Paula’s shampoo with cake icing or putting toads in her dresser drawer. In retrospect, we shouldn’t have been such little jerks – she’s a paramedic, and I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for an excuse to intubate us as revenge.”
“Does she work here on the island?”
“Yeah, so if I ever go down in the line of duty, you can bet she’ll be speeding there to strap me to a board, shove a tube down my throat and poke me full of needles. The thought haunts my nightmares.”
Peyton laughed. “Do you really think she still holds a grudge over all that stuff?”
“Probably. Has a memory like a steel trap. Smart, too, and calculating – always bringing up the fact that she can use paralytic agents in her line of work.”
“Yikes.”
“Don’t get me wrong; I’d trust her with my life. It’s just that I’d trust her to make it a living hell, too, for at least as long as it’d take to get to the hospital.”
A metallic noise came from beyond the curtain, light and jingling. It took him a moment to place it, and his heart sank when he realized what it was: the bell above the door.
Charmed had a customer, and Peyton was the only one working.
“I’ll be back.” She stood and pushed back her chair.
With deep regret, he watched her go.
She was gone for a while. Too long, and he could feel the clock ticking down without having to look at his watch.
His time with Peyton – the fleeting half hour – was just about gone.
Regret hit him harder than he’d anticipated. Saturday night had hooked him; Peyton was the root of all desire he’d felt since then.
Eventually, the silvery tone of the shop bell sounded again, and she reappeared behind the curtain seconds later.
“Sorry,” she said, “bad timing.”
“No such thing as bad timing for business, right?”
She tipped her head to one side. “Normally I’d agree, but helping someone decide which bra has the most lifting ‘oomph for seasoned shoulder boulders’ – as my customer put it – just doesn’t compare to sitting down to lunch with you. Especially with this fantastic Mexican food.”
“Shoulder boulders?”
He must’ve looked taken aback, because she grimaced and laughed. “It’s a thing. Or I guess I should say: it’s a phrase. Not my favorite one, if I’m being honest.”
He didn’t get it, either. Breasts weren’t very boulder-like. At least not if they were soft like Peyton’s. Soft and hot and hard at the—
“Do you want this?” She motioned toward the last taco.
“No, go ahead.” The only hunger he had was for her; he was dead to food, at least until his erection subsided. Speaking of which…
He adjusted as subtly as he could beneath the cover of the table. He couldn’t go walking around like that, especially in uniform.
As she took the last taco, he thought of ice cold showers and coffee burns and filling out reports for traffic accidents – in short, all the most unarousing things he could think of.
&
nbsp; Didn’t work worth a damn, of course. She was still sitting across from him, infinitely more tempting than the last taco de asada.
“I’ve gotta get going.” It was an unfortunate truth. He could practically hear his MDT chiming with his next call. “When can we get together again?”
She frowned. “This went by too fast.”
“You’re telling me.”
She shifted her gaze down to the table, and then to the clock hanging on the far wall. “Saturday night was great. Almost like living a night from someone else’s life. In comparison, it feels crappy to only be able to meet you for stuff like this.”
She motioned at their surroundings. “I know this isn’t what you want, or what you’re asking about. But I can’t spend any more nights at your place. At least not any time soon.”
“I get it.” He did, although it made him ache – with regret, and with something else: a sadness felt on her behalf.
It was that familiar, gnawing feeling police work gave him too often: an unscratchable itch to help with a situation he just wasn’t equipped to fix.
He wanted to erase the frown from her face, lift her burdens from her shoulders so that she could breathe. Enjoy herself.
Enjoy him. That part was selfish, but it was true: he wanted her in his bed again. Arching beneath him as her body tightened and pulsed with pleasure so pure it obliterated her capacity for worry or guilt, at least temporarily.
“No, I know it sucks.” She shook her head. “I don’t expect you to keep coming around here just to hang around in my breakroom during lunch. But I have to work, and meet my nephew at the bus stop, help him with his homework and check on my sister and make sure everyone eats dinner and—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Those things are important, and I don’t expect you to neglect any of them. But I’ll level with you, Peyton: I want any time I can get with you. Really want it. If all you can promise me is that you’ll eat lunch with me tomorrow, I’ll take it.”
She looked at him like he’d said something strange.
Maybe he had. He didn’t care; he meant it.
“You want to come back just to hang out with me here?” She tapped the tabletop.
