Page 90 of One More Kiss

Ethan

“I know,I should have just taken it to you,” I told Will with a grin. “I swear I had it,” I added lamely as the four-wheeler stuttered and then died.

“You stick to ranching, and I’ll stick to engines; how does that sound?” Will said with a laugh. He was the mechanic from a town further up the mountain, a small town, but they had the best mechanic. “You good to lose it for a few days?”

“Yeah, I have a spare, and if all else fails, the horses are in the lower west field.”

“Ah, the original horsepower,” Will said with a wink. He looked over his shoulder towards the house. “That the Murphy girl?”

“Peyton? Yeah.”

“Back for Donna’s funeral?”

“Yup,” I said with a tight smile.

Will sucked his teeth. “Right.”

“Right? What do you mean right?”

“She not the one who broke your heart?”

“You’re old enough to be my father; aren’t you too old for gossip?” I chastised him as I tried my best not to look at the house.

Will barked out a laugh. “I remember that spell,” he reminded me. “All the machinery was getting overhauled, so I was here when she left, remember? You were worse than a grizzly with a stick up its butt.” He shook his head. “Didn’t think she’d come back.”

“Death does that,” I told him as I finally looked over at the old ranch house. “It brings people back.”

“Well, I don’t know her, but I know you. Women mess with your head, all men’s heads. Keep your head clear, and remember she’ll be gone soon.” He clasped my shoulder in male solidarity or whatever he was feeling, but his words had the opposite effect on me.

I knew she would be gone soon—that was my problem. If I could lock her in that house and keep her near me, I would. If I thought for one moment that she would stay, I would tell her I was a fool and five years without her were the worst five years of my life.

But Peyton would never stay. This wasn’t where she wanted to be. She’d always been very vocal in her desire to leave Drayton Springs and see the world. Hell, even when we took her to Boulder to start college, she’d never once looked back.

The family home she claimed so vehemently was hers? Pfft, what a joke. If Donna hadn’t died and the attorney hadn’t told Peyton she needed to be back to hear the will, I don’t know when she would have returned. Maybe for the funeral. She wasn’t heartless.

Taking Will’s advice, I shoved Peyton back into the box in my mind and tried to carry on with my day. Still, she lingered. She was always somewhere in my thoughts, especially when I was on the ranch, but knowing she had agreed to talk tonight, I think I was anxious to get home.

Home. That was something else she needed to figure out. If she was insistent she was keeping the house, I needed to talk her into letting me rent it from her. And with Peyton, that may be harder than convincing her to sell.

Waving Will off, I took the other ATV down to the furthest fields and checked over the livestock. The sun was low in the sky by the time I was making my way back to the barn. The lights were on in the house, and I saw the porch light on too. As I approached, I saw her, curled up on the porch swing, a blanket half over her, a book lying at her feet, sound asleep.

It was as if she had never been away. The sight so familiar I couldn’t count the number of times I had found her, exactly like this, as she waited for me to finish for the day.

“Peyton,” I spoke softly. She was not a girl to wake suddenly. I learned that lesson early on after the first time she socked me in the mouth when she woke up in fright. She didn’t stir, and conscious that I was dirty from a day of hard work and labour, I went inside to shower. My feet slowed as I looked around. I kept the house clean and tidy, but it was obvious that Peyton had spent her day on housework. The old place looked better for it, I had to admit.

Showered and shaved, I went back downstairs and found her where I left her. Getting a beer, I headed back onto the porch, and gently, I lifted her head into my lap as I had done countless times before, and I watched the sunset, the feeling of familiarity settling over me like Peyton’s blanket.

I knew when she woke up, and I didn’t speak until she did. She didn’t disappoint me when she spoke.

“I can almost feel her disapproval blasting at us from the window,” she spoke softly.

Moving my hand from where it had been on the armrest, I moved it to Peyton’s blonde hair, and I stroked her head. “This just earned me a scolding before supper,” I whispered conspiratorially, grinning when Peyton giggled.

“God, she hated it when we were”—she paused—“openly affectionate.”

I chuckled in memory. “She would tap the window and demand that I come inside to help with dinner.”

“Old bat,” Peyton mumbled, but her words were laced with sadness. She moved suddenly, and I let her up, watching her as she scrubbed at her eyes and then offered me a tentative smile. “Well, supper is ready. Want to help me?”

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