Morgan had relented after dressing Tristan down, wrote him a check for two thousand dollars, and told him that he could have his job back at the plant in a month. This check would make them even for the time being, but Morgan would keep track of all the living expenses he’d taken care of in the last few months, and those would come out of his first paycheck. There was still the issue of his car that was at least half paid for, and where that ended up, but Tristan was just glad right now to have the one battle finished. It felt like he’d won this part, but not the war, and his animosity towards his uncle didn’t seem to wane.
Whatever, Tristan thought as Morgan got into his town car and headed off to work. Maybe I will get my shit together and get out of this shit-ass town and move somewhere else to start over. Someplace where no one knows who I am, where I came from, or how fucked up I am.
With the money situation handled, Tristan shot Peyton a text, telling her that he was game for going to the gym today. He wasn’t sure if he had much for workout clothes at his apartment, but thought it wouldn’t be too hard to grab a pair from somewhere if he needed to.
Lunchtime came, and as promised, Peyton arrived holding two covered bowls in her hands, and a grocery sack hooked over her arm. “Lunchtime!” she singsonged as she stepped inside the apartment. She was still wearing his ski jacket from last night, and Tristan couldn’t help but smirk at her.
“Pretty cold out there, huh?”
“Ya huh, it is,” she nonchalantly answered before setting the two bowls on the counter. “Homemade chicken noodle soup. I use wheat-based thin noodles, low sodium chicken broth, and lots of fresh vegetables. Tastes just the same.” She pulled out of the bag two very tall reusable water bottles and handed Tristan one, along with a spoon from the dish drainer. “Dig in. I’m starved.”
Tristan wasn’t surprised that Peyton was in another grand mood. She’d never faltered yesterday, even when he made a feeble attempt at a come on. She just blew it off like it meant nothing and moved on. She was eye candy for him to look at, but she didn’t seem to know she was hot and used it to her advantage, like his usual women did.
Peyton was already aware of his recent problems and didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Hey, she’s only nice to you because she’s paid to be, his faulty subconscious sneered at him. He considered that line of thought for a minute, concluding that it could be possible she was just here because it was a job. Something about her made it seem damn near impossible for the girl to lie though. Maybe he would ask her a few questions? See if he could get a bit more of a read on her?
Neither one of them bothered to take their food from the small island in the kitchen, so they stood up to slurp their soup. In between mouthfuls, Tristan asked, “So, Peyton, do you have family here in Colorado?”
“Nope. Just me, myself and I,” she told him without even flinching. Okay, so that didn’t really help, he thought. Try again…something she has to answer more than yes or no.
“Why did you choose to work at a place that houses handicapped people? I would think that would be extremely difficult to deal with day in and day out.”
Peyton nodded her head as she stared off into the distance and spoke. “Yeah, it is hard. None of my patients can help the situations they’re in, but not a one of them has a bad thing to say about their lives. They are perfectly content and happy to live there, and they are grateful for any bit of kindness given to them. They may have a mental or physical handicap, but that doesn’t mean they can’t give or accept love, kindness, friendship, and they do all of that without pause. Unlike the rest of the cold-hearted world.”
Peyton snapped her eyes back to Tristan, and gave an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry. That was a bit philosophical. Yes, it’s full of hardships, but it’s also full of some rewards that don’t come easy in life.”
Peyton was quick to focus on her soup again, and picked up her bowl and drank the remainder of the contents. Her words spoke volumes to him and even though she was embarrassed, Tristan was feeling much better about their arrangement, and Peyton’s motives, if she even had any. Either way, he knew they were finished with his little question and answer session.
Tristan smiled as he watched her set her bowl back down, and then wipe her face with a napkin; it was damn cute and he laughed before picking up his bowl, drinking the broth as well. She was right, it was damn good soup.
“Did you bring any more? That was good.”
“No, I didn’t. But, I brought peanut butter protein bars for dessert.”
Tristan tore into his and polished it off in two bites, before grabbing for hers. Peyton snatched it off the counter and shook it at him.
“Mine, you bastard!” she laughed. “Come on, let’s get on with this. I need to burn off some of this energy.”
Tristan couldn’t help the words that basically fell out of his mouth, “I know a really good way to work off some excess energy, babe.”
Peyton rolled her eyes and patted his chest with her cute, little hands. “I’m sure, stud. I don’t fall over with my legs in the air, though. You’ll have to work for it with me.”
Tristan couldn’t help the belly laugh that left his lips, and he slapped his thighs before he bent over to clutch his stomach with his forearm. “Oh hell…I like you, Peyton. You’re a straight-shooter, aren’t you?”
She just shrugged and pulled her coat back on and flipped her long ponytail out. “Something like that. I’m a simple girl. You don’t need a fuck buddy; you need someone that’ll help you to get better. I highly doubt that a quick screw will help you get there.”
Tristan set his elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his hand, tapping his fingers against his face as he pretended to ponder her question. “Hmmmmm. I don’t know, it might,” he shrugged.
They both laughed and Tristan pulled her in for a quick hug and then released her. “No, I get it. You were hired to babysit me,” he teased.
Peyton sobered up quickly. “You honestly don’t know anything about Chris, do you? That’s exactly the opposite of why he hired me.”
Tristan pulled on a winter coat of his own, and asked, “Why did he hire you then? Enlighten me, please.”
“You need to have this discussion with Chris, not me. I’m here to help you get better. End,” she lightly tapped his forehead with the tip of her finger. “Of,” flicked his nose. “Story,” tapped his chin.
They both stepped out into the late fall sun and were down the stairs, heading towards Peyton’s car in the driveway before he finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Peyton. You know, it really doesn’t matter to me. It’s really nice to have someone around that isn’t looking for something from me. I appreciate it.”
She smiled at him, showing him her full megawatt grin, and she crinkled her cute little nose at him. “No problem. Let’s get to the gym before we freeze to death out here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted.
Chapter Nine
Tristan and Peyton worked seamlessly together at the gym for the better part of an hour, each taking a turn at the different stations around the small, nearly empty gym that she was a member of, and now Tristan was, too. She was always encouraging and had hung by his side, even when she’d finished her work out.
Peyton looked adorable in her hip-hugging work out shorts and the matching tank that she wore; her long dark hair was pulled up, but cute little curls still framed her face. Her skin tone was a bit darker than most, and he wondered about her nationality. Hispanic, maybe mulatto, but in all honesty, he really had no clue.
There was a large tree tattoo covering her right bicep, and he could see a bit of an owl peeking out the back of her tank top on her shoulder blade. She had a lip piercing and small gauges in her ears. When her tank top would ride up, he could see a huge colorful flower tattoo that must have covered her entire rib cage and hip on the one side. She wasn’t completely covered in ink, but had the perfect amount of color on her body that added to her overall hotness.
When Tristan
did his final sets on the shoulder press, he felt the strain all the way up into his neck and he grimaced when he finished; he rubbed at the tight muscles, but it didn’t help. Peyton didn’t hesitate in massaging his neck after he tried rolling it a few times to ease the pain, and it just made him growl in frustration.
Her soft hands felt like heaven as they loosened the knots that had formed as he did his reps. Tristan had forgotten how much trap movement was involved in the exercise, and his neck was tense as hell. It helped immensely when she worked his sore muscles, but wasn’t so much of a help down south, where a new muscle was aching.
“Great job, sweets,” she complimented him after they finished. “Won’t take much for you to get your body from hot to smokin’ hot. I’ll shower quickly and meet you out front.”
They both headed into their different locker rooms to get showered and changed. Tristan had been proud of all the hard work that he’d previously put into his body and the muscle mass that he’d built up. He knew what he lacked in height, he made up for in bulk; cut muscles down his arms and chest, including a solid core that led to a strong v-pack set. But he also knew that he had lost a good portion of that fitness, and was getting soft around the middle again.
To hear Peyton compliment his body was a sure confidence boost and had him seriously preparing himself to get back into the land of the living. He could take things slowly, see how each day progressed and try to go easy on himself. It sure beat the fuck out of sleeping all day in bed and eating greasy takeout on the floor. Maybe this wasn’t exactly what he wanted right now, but it was what he needed. It had been a seriously long fucking time since he felt this good about anything.
None of his newfound enthusiasm meant that he was overly excited that Chris had hired someone to take care of him, but that was another matter altogether. It was damn conniving to bait and switch Peyton like that so that she felt obligated to care for him, but it was damn brilliant. Fucked up, but brilliant. Tristan was planning to talk with Chris about it the first chance he got; he’d been so sure that Chris was an asshat, but he got the impression from Peyton that he was anything but.
Tristan also decided quickly that Peyton was a serious pain in the ass to shop with. Tristan was more than capable of picking out food, but she would many times just smile and put back what he’d picked out and replace it with something similar. Most of the time it was a simple substitution for cost reasons; since Tristan didn’t pay much attention to that shit anyway, he didn’t make a fuss. But there were a few times she frowned at something he put in the cart, and then later he would find that at some point, she had removed it and replaced it with something completely different. Like the bag of chips she grimaced at, and in its place was a bag of lightly salted pretzels.
She was a sneaky little thing, but tried to not let on to what she was doing; she just wasn’t in your face about anything and was fine with whatever you suggested. He noticed that she didn’t take exception to everything he chose, just the things that he never said a whole lot about. For instance, he put Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in the cart after exclaiming that was his favorite kind. She smiled and shrugged, never even gave it a second glance; and it was still in the cart when they got to the checkout.
Peyton had already taken Tristan to the bank and the pharmacy, so he quickly paid for the huge cartload and they headed back to his apartment. The drive back wouldn’t take very long, but Tristan wanted to find out more about Peyton; see if she was comfortable enough now to open up a bit about herself.
“Did you grow up here in Colorado, or are you a transplant?”
Peyton was humming along to a song on the radio and casually answered as she bobbed her head to the beat of the song, “Born and raised. All my twenty-one years. You?”
Tristan winced, unprepared for the question to be turned around on him. He quickly answered, “I grew up near here,” and moved on to safer territory, “do you have to work again tonight?”
“Nope, night off. Going to help you unload your groceries and then I’m off for a night of relaxation,” Peyton sighed and let her shoulders fall. “I haven’t had a night to myself in a very long time.”
Tristan just nodded a few times. He gave her a few seconds to appear nonchalant before he asked the next question. “Anyone going to keep you company tonight?”
Peyton smiled, but didn’t move her eyes off the road, “No, I’m single, and I live by myself.”
“Ahh,” was his only reply. His brain was working frantically, trying to think of something else to say to her, trying to think of a way to get her to spend more time with him so that he could get to know her better, but he was running low on options.
Finally, it clicked and he asked, “You wouldn’t wanna help me with a project tomorrow, would you?”
They were pulling into the driveway next to Morgan’s place, and Peyton parked the car before she answered. “That depends, Tristan. I need to know your motivation. I didn’t peg you as a guy that asked for help, so for you to be asking me to do this, you must have a really good reason.”
Damn it. Square on the head. Perceptive little thing.
Tristan put up his walls before he answered, not wanting to give in and show any weakness. He reached across the seat and brushed her loose hair back from her face, making her tense up. Tristan put his hand up quickly to show that he didn’t mean any harm. “Hey, Peyton, I know you think I’m a psycho, but I would never hurt a woman, not on purpose. Are you scared of me?”
Peyton unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face him. “You’re not psycho, Tristan. Fuck, I hate that word…that was my dad’s favorite word,” she mumbled the ending. “And no, I’m not scared of you. I was hired to help you get back on your feet. I need to keep some professional distance between us if that’s gonna work.”
“Work for who? You? Certainly not me. You’re the first girl in years that sees right through my shit and hasn’t run away.” At first, Tristan was angry, but as he gazed at her sweet face, his anger melted.
“To be honest, Peyton, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left my apartment last night. You are the first girl that has ever turned me inside out like this. I usually don’t get torn up over girls.” Every one of his last words were said as he leaned closer to her in the driver’s seat, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him.
They were slowly inching towards each other when she finally hesitantly said, “I’m not going to sleep with you, Tristan.”
“So noted. I’m going to kiss you now,” Tristan told her and she just nodded her head. The first brush of his lips across hers was electric and the sensation traveled right over his skin, leaving goose bumps behind. He leaned back in for another kiss, and she responded by tipping her head to the side so he could get closer. With their lips still connected, Tristan adjusted himself in his seat so that he could cup her face in his hands.
Peyton whimpered softly when he nibbled on the corners of her mouth, and she parted her lips just enough, and he took control and delved inside with his tongue. He released her mouth and moved to place kisses along her jawline, dragging his lips across her skin on the way back to her ear. He pulled her ear lobe into his mouth and she moaned from somewhere deep inside. Her body sagged forward and he knew that she was willing to go further, but would likely regret a heat of the moment decision. This girl brought out every protective bit of his insides, and he needed to be with her, no matter what ground rules she laid out. For the first time in his life, Tristan was content to just kiss and hold a woman and walk away without sex.
He pulled back from her, but didn’t let go of her face. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose, then released her and got out of the car. He opened up the backseat door and grabbed all the bags and pulled them out of the car, setting some of them down on the driveway. “So I’ll see you on Monday, then?”
Peyton was looking a little bit stunned sitting there, and she pulled out of her stare when he spoke. “Oh, um, yeah. Monday. Hey, didn’t you want help with
a project?”
Tristan thought for a minute about a project that he was going to tell her about, and then he remembered asking her to help him with something before she laid down the law about what their relationship could be. “Oh yeah, I did. I need to check on where most of my old stuff ended up and I thought that maybe you could help me to retrieve what’s left? Plus, I should see what I can do about getting my car back. Might need some help with all that.”
Peyton was grinning from ear to ear now and gave him that gorgeous smile he was damn near ready to take a picture of, so he had it with him all the time. “You bet, sweets. You sure you can handle all those groceries? I could help you put everything away.”
“No, baby. I got it. Thank you, though. See ya tomorrow.”
Tristan was practically walking on sunshine as he went back to the discarded grocery bags on the driveway. He was absolutely elated for the first time in a very long time and had to keep himself from whistling as he carried all of the stuff up to his apartment. He made it through the door and stumbled on the way to the kitchen, barely making it before the handles on the plastic bags started to rip into pieces. He laughed at his luck and thought that maybe things were starting to turn around for him.
Tristan usually was a lucky person, but he decided that maybe what was happening to him was more a product of karma. Peyton was proof positive that karma was real, and that good things come to those who wait.
Even more important, he wanted to believe this positive streak wasn’t the calm before the bi-polar storm.
Chapter Ten
Morning was slow to come. Tristan was wide awake at five in the morning after a series of nightmares. He wasn’t feeling the greatest right now and knew that it was only going to get worse. He was completely awake, yet unable to close his eyes. For when he did, the demons seemed to appear. It wasn’t just Valerie that he saw in his dreams anymore, they’d evolved, turned into something even more painful. Something that Tristan tried harder than hell to never remember.
Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[ Page 6
