Peyton’s blush deepened as she wiggled on the bedspread beside me. Curiosity widened her eyes, but the underlying affection was what got me. And with her wild hair spread out over my pillow, I swore she’d never looked hotter.
“Listen, it doesn’t bother me, okay?” I smoothed the hair away from her face, addicted to the feel of her skin, and her eyes searched mine, obviously not believing me. Damn, she was smart. And loyal. And way too good for me.
My mouth lifted into a smile, this time a real one. “I’m used to it by now. As long as you come by and see me a couple times, I’m all good. I promise.”
Peyton frowned, and I swear, it was like I could hear the wheels turning in her brain. I already knew she was stubborn, determined, and on a mission to save me. Knowing she was planning something… no lie, it made me nervous. When she bolted upright, nearly knocking me out with a head butt to the chin, I figured I had every right to be.
“Oh, you’ll see a lot more of me than that,” she declared, pushing up to her elbows.
Say what?
“Uh, Sunshine, not that I don’t love where your head’s at right now—because I totally do. But we don’t have—”
A pillow to the head shut me up.
“Not like that,” she said with an amused sigh. “God, you’re such a horn dog!”
“Guilty as charged,” I said with a laugh, and threw the pillow near the headboard. “But there’s a pet name for me. Sunshine and Horn Dog. Has a certain ring to it, I think.”
My dirty little secret: making Peyton laugh was my new favorite hobby. I preferred it even to baseball, so when she tossed her head back, musical notes combining with groans at my ceiling, the crap with my parents flittered away.
This, right here, was all I needed.
Mumbling about boys, hormones, and one-track minds, Peyton tramped over to my closet. She yanked the door open and I watched, amused, as she pulled out a duffle bag and began throwing random shit inside.
“Just curious,” I called from my prone position on the bed, “but what exactly are you doing?”
“Packing,” she called back, like it should be obvious. Which, I guessed it was. I must’ve missed something.
“And why are you packing again? You heard me say I don’t care about Disney, right?”
“Oh, you’re not going to Disney.”
“Uh huh.” Women were weird creatures. “Then if I’m not going to Disney… can I ask where it is I am going?”
In response, Peyton tossed the opened bag on my bed, placed her hands on her hips, and smiled so wide I feared her face would crack. “Yep. You’re moving in with me.”
PEYTON
SWEET SERENITY RANCH 8:55 P.M.
The clock on the wall was broken. Useless piece of junk. I’d been standing by the window for an eternity, staring out into the quiet, car-less night, yet the stupid digital read-out claimed only two minutes had passed since I last checked.
I called shenanigans.
“Relax, honey.” Mama smiled a secret smile and stole a glance at my dad. She didn’t know Justin and I were together, but it was pretty obvious she thought I had a crush. Her side of the bookshelf was stuffed full of red-spined romances, and knowing her, she’d be in matchmaking mode this weekend. I’d have to remember to warn Justin.
Sliding another cookie onto the tray, she asked, “Justin likes chocolate chip, right?” Spatula in the air, she frowned at the cooling rack of goods. “Or maybe I should’ve gone with chocolate chunk?”
The woman and her baking. It was a wonder I wasn’t the size of a hippo.
“I told you, Mama, we’re friends. How am I supposed to know his favorite cookie? You act like I know the guy’s shoe size.”
Size 11. That tidbit was obtained when I’d packed his bag earlier because, as we’d already established, I was a borderline stalker when it came to Justin Carter.
Mama so didn’t need to know that.
“Cookies are cookies,” I told her, softening my words with a smile since it wasn’t her fault the dang clock was broken. “He’s a growing boy so I doubt he’ll care either way. If it’s edible, he’ll devour it.”
Dad snorted his agreement and I turned back to the window.
Where is he?
When I’d left Justin’s house two hours ago, Rosalyn had promised she’d drop him off on the way to the airport. He’d chosen to stay behind and help Chase finish his packing, which made me happy for two reasons. One, because watching him with that adorable little boy made my cuteness-meter explode. And two, because I needed extra time to prep my parents.
It’d never really been a question that they’d agree. Mama was a total softie and if she was on board, I knew Dad would be, too. He normally went along with whatever she wanted—‘happy wife, happy life,’ he often said. Wise words to live by.
So, once I’d gotten home, I’d casually asked if we’d have room at the table for Easter, dropping the fact that a friend was going to be all alone for the holiday. As expected, Mama pounced on it and invited them to stay the entire weekend.