Page 82 of One More Kiss

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With my attentionon the ceiling, I finished my coffee, setting the cup down on the counter beside me, as I watched the kitchen roof as if I could see through it and see Peyton walking across the floor. She told me she was ready. That was twenty minutes ago. Her coffee sat untouched on the table, alongside a glass of OJ for the multivitamins she had laid beside it, yet to take.

I’d spent the last twelve minutes watching the ceiling as she crossed and recrossed the floor.

My day was wasting away, but I wasn’t sure if I should ask her, again, if she was ready to go. Last night had been tentative, this morning almost amicable, so I was not pushing this fragile truce by asking her what the heck she was doing.

Hurried footsteps crossed the floor. I heard the bedroom door slam close, and then I saw her as she jogged lightly down the stairs. She’d changed her clothes entirely.

“What happened to the pantsuit?”

Peyton took huge gulps of her cold coffee before popping the vitamins into her mouth and washing them down with orange juice. The coffee cup was already at her lips as she swallowed the juice.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” I warned her.

“Nope, do this regularly,” she told me with a confident smile. “The pants were wrong. I thought this was better,” she said as she looked down at her black skirt and grey shirt. “What do you think?”

“You look fine, but you looked fine the first time,” I told her honestly. “Can we go?”

Peyton snorted as I walked past her and out the door. “Your patience has improved, I see,” she taunted from behind me.

“Nope, it’s much, much shorter than it was.” Standing beside the passenger seat, I held the door open for her to the truck. “I’m being nice.”

Peyton rolled her eyes as she got into the truck. “No wonder I didn’t recognise that look on you.”

I ignored her jibe, forcing myself not to slam the door shut after she was in the truck. We drove in silence into Drayton Springs, and I easily found a parking spot, conveniently between the coffee shop and the office Peyton’s meeting was in. As she came around the side of the truck, I watched her as she looked around, noting the changes since the last time she was here and the other familiar sights that she knew.

“Rhett’s coffee any good?” she asked me quietly as she came to stand beside me.

“Coffee’s coffee.”

“Blasphemy.” Peyton looked at me in amusement before turning back to Main Street. “Well, I better get to my appointment.” She hesitated. “You’re sure that you’ll wait for me?”

“If I’m done first, I’ll wait.”

“And if I am finished before you?” Peyton asked me curiously.

“Then come find me,” I told her with a shrug as I started to walk to the coffee shop.

“Ethan!”

Turning back, I studied her, recognising the uncertainty in her as she moved from foot to foot. “I, um…”

“Fourth building down, green door, up the stairs, take the door on your left.”

With a brisk nod, she turned on her heel and hurried away, and I stayed watching as she got to the attorney’s door. When she glanced back at me, I nodded in reassurance, and with a brief wave, she headed inside.

Turning, I walked across the street to have my own meeting with Rhett Wilson. His family ran the grocery store, and several years ago, Rhett had bought the shop next door and converted it to a coffee shop, selling products from the grocery store. You liked the blueberry muffin; did you know you could buy a box of six right next door? His family also had the winery and inn a few minutes’ drive up the mountain, which is why I was here to see him today.

The Wilsons were looking to expand. They were a popular wedding destination, and it wasn’t unheard of for the wedding party to ask for a marquee tent. The vineyards couldn’t be moved during rotation, but they could be expanded, and the Wilsons were seeking more land.

The ranch neighboured the Wilson land, and in truth, the acres they wanted were kept in pasture, and I didn’t utilise them as much as I did the rest of the ranch.

“Hey,” I greeted Wilma, the older lady who worked the coffee shop most mornings. “Looking for Rhett.”

“He told me you were coming. I’m to seat you at the corner table, and you’re to wait. He’s running late.”

“Do I have the choice to leave?” I teased her as I looked over to the table and saw the small reserved sign.

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