Lakeshore Legend: The McAdams Series (By The Lake Series Book 2)

by Leah, Shannyn

  “She didn’t mean to either. She died and she couldn’t help it. My mother was amazing, she was kind, funny, loving everything and she would have never wanted any of us to feel what we did when she left.”

  He held her hands tightly in his. “I can’t promise you I won’t die, but I can promise as long as I’m alive that I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m scared of what your actual feelings are for me. I’m scared you love Lauren. I’m scared your heart is crushed and there’s no room for me.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, retracting her hands from his. She covered her face and groaned. “I’m exhausted and I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

  He took her hands away from her face and touched her chin with his hand, lifting her eyes back up to him. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

  Her shoulders fell in defeat. She did look exhausted. “I’m afraid I love you Colt. I’m afraid of you not loving me back.” Love him. She loved him? He loved her. He loved her!

  “I’m not in love with Lauren. She didn’t crush my heart, her betrayal and the loss of Lily maybe gave it a good tumble, but you picked it back up. Peyton, I love you.”

  Tears filled Peyton’s eyes. “You do?”

  He nodded. “I do.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away. “I’m crying,” she said with a huff. He didn’t see her as the crying type and clearly she didn’t see herself that way either.

  “I can see that.”

  “For you,” she almost said it like she was disgusted in herself.

  “I’m flattered.” He grabbed the sides of her face and wiped the water away from her cheeks with his thumb. “I’m not scared of you. Your honesty with me is refreshing and I’m not afraid.” He kissed her and felt her tired body slump even more. He wanted to make love to her but more than that he wanted to take her upstairs to her room to hold and comfort her while she fell into the deep sleep she needed.

  He picked her up and carried her upstairs. She wrapped her arms around him and let him take all the weight as she tucked against his shoulder.

  When they got to her room, he didn’t turn the light on and he carried her across the wood floor to her bed. She pulled him down with her. “You’re exhausted,” he said between a kiss. “Let’s sleep.”

  “You will stay?”

  “All night.” He kissed her forehead. In minutes he could hear her breathing steady into a quiet slumber. With one arm he pulled the blankets over them and closed his eyes with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Peyton’s cell phone rang in the early morning hours. Curled up in her blankets she was basking in the desperate sleep she needed and enjoying the vivid dreams of−her eyes snapped open−Colt. She touched beside her. Empty. Where was Colt?

  He had been with her, hadn’t he? She was trying to remember, but she’d fallen into such a deep sleep when he’d carried her upstairs and lay down beside her. Yes, yes he had lain down beside me. Where was he now?

  The ringing from her nightstand continued and she answered the unknown caller.

  “This is Private Val Security and the back door alarm at 225 Willow Valley Lake Lane went off at two fourteen this morning.”

  Oh no! The shop.

  “Would you like us to send the police?” She didn’t know. Is that what they usually did? She sure didn’t want to go over there alone and since her sisters had all taken off for the weekend that’s exactly what she would be doing if the police didn’t show up. Unless Colt went with her. But where was he?

  “Yes,” she answered throwing the sheets aside and reaching for the lamp.

  “Are you on your way?”

  “Yes.”

  “How far out are you?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “Alright Miss. McAdams I am sending the police. And again, it was the back door alarm.”

  Peyton thanked her. She threw her feet over the side of her bed and rubbed her face for a second before mis-calculating the level of the floor combined with her still tender ankle which she twisted and sent her flying straight down the side of her bed landing on her butt.

  “Ouch,” she cried to herself. She stood up rubbing her butt as pain seared through her ankle. Five minutes. Ah!

  Irritated and in pain, she decided not to bother changing her clothes bee-lined to the door. She tripped over a pair of jeans flying in the air and landed on her knees and hands.

  She groaned.

  Peyton was a morning person but this was ridiculous. She grabbed the material at her feet...jeans. Still sitting on the floor she tore her yoga pants off replacing the denim over her legs.

  Why was someone breaking into the shop? Bratty little teenagers with nothing better to do on a Friday night into early Saturday morning then break into the new shop.

  What if they were in there still right now while she was lying on her back zipping her jeans?

  Favoring her foot, she started down the stairs and at the bottom collided with a body.

  She screamed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Colt grabbed Peyton’s shoulders. “Peyton, it’s me.”

  She stopped. “Colt?” In the darkness she found his eyes. “You’re here.” Where else was he going to be? “The shop was broken into. The police are on their way.”

  “I will drive you. Give me your keys.”

  For the first time...ever...she did as he said without a smart retort. On their way out he saw her ankle was bothering her so he helped her around to the passenger’s side before climbing into the driver’s side.

  “Did you call your sisters?”

  “No. They just left last night and I want to see what’s going on first in case there’s no reason to alarm them.”

  That was understandable.

  Colt drove through the dead dark streets without passing a car or person.

  Peyton was a jittery mess in the passenger’s seat rubbing her ankle and pushing her wild hair out of her eyes.

  As he turned off the main street and into the alley, flashing cruiser lights let them know the police were already present on the scene.

  Two officers met them at the back door. A tall male wearing glasses and a female who almost stood his height and matched his broadening demeanor.

  “Peyton McAdams?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  They explained they had already done a perimeter inside and outside check and found no one. “It appears to be an act of vandalism.”

  “Why? Is it just the door? Or is there more?” Peyton’s reserve seemed to be replaced by panic.

  “You will have to tell us,” the male officer said. He led them into the back room. Across the stainless steel counter in the middle of the room were the batches of bath bombs she and her sisters had spent the last couple days working on but were no longer drying in perfect little smelly circles. They were flattened and broken apart and the table was like a rainbow of coloured sugar. It appeared every last one had been smashed and he suspected the flat cookie baking sheet on the floor had something to do with it.

  Peyton’s face fell.

  “We assume this was as far as they got before the alarm went off and scared them away,” the male officer continued. The female waited outside. “Nothing else seems out of order.”

  Colt watched as Peyton slowly walked to the counter and touched a pile of dust. Then she moved to the next color and picked a handful up and let it slowly fall from her hands.

  “If you notice anything else missing or ruined you can contact us.” He was talking to Peyton but she was no longer listening.

  When the officer took out his card, Colt accepted it with a hand shake. And that was all the police could do. They promised to ask around in the morning but didn’t have high expectations of finding anything. They were also going to drive around to see if anyone was out walking in the area.

  Colt thanked them and shut the door behind them. The pried open and broken lock stared at him.

  Peyton was at the far
end of the table looking across the mass of destruction with sad hopeless eyes. Was she going to cry?

  “Everything is ruined,” she said. “Days of work completely ruined.” She was devastated. He had never seen her look so hopeless. They were opening the next weekend, but surely they could squeeze in a couple more hours to knock off a few batches of these balls.

  “This sets us back days to remake these. Plus I have to tell the girls. I won’t tell them until they get back from their trip. These were all finished, ready to go in the baskets for sale and now look!” She was rambling at the bath bombs and not even looking at him.

  “Are you tired?” he asked, knowing if he was in her shoes he would be so furious sleep would be the last thing he longed.

  She wrinkled her nose at him as if questioning what relevance that had to the situation. “No,” she said.

  “We can make them.”

  “Well, we have no choice. But we will have to wait until Monday when my sisters are back, and then like I said it sets us back probably like three days, unless we cut the batches in half and fill the bottom of the baskets with tissue until we can make more.”

  “I mean we will make them. Me and you. Right now.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t you know how to make them?”

  “Well, yeah.” She nodded. “There’s a recipe book with each of them listed.”

  “Where is that?”

  She pointed to a shelf behind him lined with binders. He found the one that read bath bombs and grabbed it down. He only knew the name of the round balls of fizzy delights because of the demonstration he’d taken part in.

  She took the book. “Right now?”

  “If I drive you home are you going to go to sleep?” He already knew the answer. She would sit up stewing until the sun came up.

  “No,” she admitted. “But I can’t ask you to stay up all night...well morning and make them with me.”

  “I’m offering. And besides when do you care about my feelings,” he teased.

  She debated, chewing on her bottom lip that for the first time had no color added and looked softer and more luscious.

  “Okay.” She opened the book on the only space on the counter with no trays of bath bombs. “We need to grab some racks.” She walked toward a door behind her and then turned. “I have to grab the equipment.” She looked across the counter. “And we have to clean up an area to work.”

  It didn’t take long and they had cleaned half the long counter by lifting the drying trays of dust onto racks and wheeling them out of sight. Peyton set up bowls, mixing ingredients and presses and slipped her winter jacket off while grabbing a couple aprons hanging on the wall. A mauve silky tank revealed she hadn’t taken out the time to change her pajamas or put on a bra. Where had that little pink thing been that was over top when they’d laid down to to bed? How were they going to get started, let alone get any work done when she was dressed like that?

  She pulled a stray hair that had slipped down her shoulder and glanced at him shyly catching him staring. “I wasn’t planning on making bath bombs. Or taking off my jacket at all,” she said throwing an apron at him.

  “Here.” He shrugged the plaid shirt he’d worn off and passed it to her. “Cover yourself up or we will be doing something entirely different here.”

  She took it and shook her head. “Why does it always come down to sex with you?” It could have wrapped around her three times, but there was no complaint about the size. She pulled the edge that landed way past her derriere and rolled it up to her waist managing to also roll the width shrinking it down to her size and tied it in a knot just at her jean waistline. She finished it off with a roll of the sleeves.

  “That was impressive.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Are you ready?”

  “I was born ready.” He lowered his tone and sent her a hungry stare.

  “I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing.”

  “I’m talking about bath fizzies McAdams. Geez. There goes your mind again. It’s like you always turn into that helpless girl who couldn’t quit crushing on me.”

  “Right,” she said the word slowly eyeing him suspiciously.

  “I don’t know why I’m always the one getting slack when you’re always the one bringing up sex,” his hunched closer to her and whispered the word as though it was an off-limits word.

  She laughed. “I’m going to cramp your hands like you’ve never felt before,” she said.

  He sighed loudly resuming his stance. “See, there you go again.”

  She laughed again. “Stop it. I’m talking about the bath bombs. Are you quite finished?”

  “You started it,” he pointed out.

  “I’m ending it here.”

  “Alright. But, I can’t promise I won’t revisit the topic by the end of the night.”

  She rolled her eyes, then her face turned serious and all work. She measured and poured and he was her personal mixer.

  “We do have a machine for this but Abby was persistent we didn’t need to use it. I think after weeks of mixing she will come around.”

  He was standing against the stainless counter which was almost the perfect height to dig his fingers through the powders she had poured together. Peyton on the other hand had managed somehow to get right on top of the counter. She was steadying herself on her knees propped above the mixture watching him and holding a spray bottle. “I am going to spray some witch hazel...”

  “Are you trying to put a spell on me?”

  “I think I already enchanted you in my dad’s shower weeks ago. Because since that day I can’t get rid of you.”

  “Cause you’re trying so hard.”

  “Squeeze a handful in your hand.” He did as she instructed. He’d been doing everything she instructed lately. “And let go,” she continued and he did so. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for. “It crumbled so it’s not ready yet. Keep mixing and I will spray. When it’s ready it will stay together more when you squeeze it.”

  Finally after some more squirts of magic, the texture formed and she taught him how to make the smelly oil bombs.

  And batch after she batch her upset manner flourished into the excited Peyton he’d come to know with a passion for work, success, and accomplishment. Right now these bomb creations were giving her that.

  She smiled and laughed. She clapped her hands like a child after every scent. She teased when he didn’t squeeze enough or mix it right. She hushed him when some of the smells were so strong he wondered who would ever use them.

  Passion for life. Passion for success.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Peyton was beginning to feel the early morning creep into her brain losing the momentum to go on. She was surprised and ecstatic how many different batches they had already accomplished in such a short time. Although she wasn’t exactly sure what time it was. A clock for the back room was going to be added to her to-do list.

  They had made smaller batches of each scent. She was hoping they would at least have a good variety and they could add quantity if they had time this week or after they opened.

  She was thrilled. She was exhausted.

  And she had Colt to thank. He was mixing the newest recipe with his hands. He must be exhausted even if he wouldn’t admit it. She had done this for two full days and she knew more breaks than the zero he took were necessary to go on. She hadn’t mixed a single batch and she had been staying of her foot because due to the throbbing pain.

  “I could do this all night,” he said.

  They had been doing it all night. The black shoulders of his t-shirt were dusted in powder and handprints. She was certain his forehead smelled of vanilla and lavender where he had wiped the back of his hand after every batch.

  “I think I’m getting to my limit,” she admitted.

  “That’s because you are sitting around.” He nudged her knee with his elbow.

  “That’s because my ankle is sore.”

  He looke
d up suddenly. “I forgot about your ankle.” He took his hands out of the mixture.

  “No, no, no.” She twisted her ankles completely out of his view. “This is the last batch so keep on mixing.”

  He was reaching around behind her and she moved the spray bottle in front of him. He challenged her with his eyes and lost. Reluctantly, he went back to the mixture, promising a look when they were done.

  The last batch was brown sugar and it smelled delicious dancing through the air with the other scents.

  Using the press, he formed big ones and she formed small.

  Just as promised, when they were done he wiped his hands and lightly tapped the side of her leg. “Let me see,” he instructed.

  She uncurled her legs and dangled them over the edge of the counter. He lifted her denim covered leg to examine her absolutely fine ankle. This was not the first time she fallen on her ankle and it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Ouch!” Pain shot up her leg when he squeezed it.

  “There’s no swelling.”

  She jerked her leg away from his pushy grasp. “It was fine until you touched it.” She poked his chest.

  He grinned and caught her wrist. Again. The man was always catching her wrist. It was like his arm was a hockey stick and her wrist was the puck he couldn’t let pass into the goalie’s net. And every single time he left it with a tingling sensation through her body like electricity.

  “After all the mixing I just did.” He grinned.

  She grinned too. She was very grateful for all the mixing he just did. She was actually very thankful he’d scared her in the driveway and offered to drive her to the shop. She had really needed him when she walked through that door and saw the mess. She’d been ready to break down and give up. Why would some little brats have to do this to them right now? There was enough stress with opening and then have all their days of work destroyed.

  But Colt had been there and he’d taken over when she couldn’t and look at what they had accomplished together.

  Now, he was holding her hand again and staring at her with those smoldering blue eyes she couldn’t get enough of.