She wanted him too. That much was obvious by the way her nipples hardened, her breathing accelerated, and her pupils dilated. He’d learned to read people’s bodies, their reactions, as both a trained physician’s assistant and a special forces operative.
He wouldn’t make use of that knowledge now, though. First, he had to convince her to spend time with him outside of Stave. Once he’d done that, he could start thinking about getting into her panties.
“You don’t always have to stay and walk me out, you know. You must be exhausted from traveling,” she said as she turned on the alarm and locked the back door.
Kade held his hand out for Peyton’s keys, and opened her car door. “I rest easier knowing you’re safe.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Kade. I’ll see you soon?”
“Guaranteed.”
Kade had an apartment above the winery on his parents’ ranch, but he rented a place at the beach anyway. The ranch was thirty miles inland, which meant in the summer, it was also thirty degrees hotter.
Besides, it was nice to have a place he could walk to. He didn’t have to worry if he had one more glass of wine. The cool night air was refreshing after spending so many weeks in a scorchingly hot desert.
There weren’t many clouds in the sky tonight, and the moon was almost full. Instead of going directly to the house, he stopped and sat on one of the big rocks that overlooked Moonstone Beach. He closed his eyes and listened to the waves, breathed in the salt air, and thought about Peyton. It didn’t matter where he was in the world, she was almost always on his mind.
He’d seen her here a few times, either running or surfing—sometimes alone, sometimes with her boys. That was only one of the reasons he found her so beguiling. The water on the Central Coast never got much above sixty-five degrees; right now it was probably closer to fifty, yet regardless of temperature, he’d seen her out in the water wearing a skin-tight, curve-hugging, full-body neoprene pink and gray wetsuit that nearly made him go down on his knees in prayer.
Kade walked the rest of the way to his rental, anxious for a shower and a long night’s sleep in a real bed. Tomorrow morning, he’d head into town for breakfast and then inland to visit his folks. He could tell himself that he wouldn’t stop by Stave on his way back to the beach, but if he drove by and saw Peyton’s car, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
3
Peyton plopped down on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, wondering why in the hell she hadn’t invited Kade over. Because it was after midnight and by doing so, he might’ve thought it was for sex. Which it definitely would’ve been. And they hadn’t even gone on a date yet.
But how could she stop herself from thinking about having sex with him? The man’s body was ripped like a damn god. He wasn’t too tall, maybe straight up six feet. He kept his head shaved and had a closely cropped dark, reddish-brown goatee. A scar ran from just below his left ear, down the side of his face, to his chin. Peyton hadn’t asked how he got it and didn’t plan to.
When they talked, which they could do for hours, she would get lost in his bright blue eyes that never wavered from hers. It was like he looked straight into her soul while he listened. Peyton had never been a big talker, but somehow Kade got her to talk about everything—her boys, her divorce, her parents, her hopes and dreams, even her favorite books.
He loved to read and while what she read was completely different, there were times when the wine bar was slow and they’d sit out on the patio next to the fire pit, both of them absorbed in a book. It was times like those, that she wondered what it would be like if they were more than friends.
She didn’t do more than friends, though. The one and only time she let a friend talk her into becoming his lover, she’d married him, and that was the biggest mistake of her life.
Lang Becker. The man who’d decided that being married and having kids wasn’t really his “thing.” He left Peyton for another woman when Jamison was three, and Finn had just turned one. At seven and five, neither of the boys remembered anything about their dad since he hadn’t seen them since the day he walked out.
There was an open bottle of wine sitting on the kitchen counter and Peyton poured herself a glass. The house was too quiet without her boys around. They wouldn’t have been up this late, but she still could’ve sneaked into their room and watched them sleep, run her fingers through their hair.
Like most Friday nights, they were at her parents’ place in Paso Robles and she wouldn’t see them until Sunday. Unless she drove out there tomorrow. If she got there early enough, they could go for a horseback ride before she had to get back to Stave for the early afternoon tastings.
What are you doing? The text on her phone startled her, although it shouldn’t have. Alex Avila, her business partner and best friend, often sent texts right around closing time.
Having a glass of wine.
Will you be up for a while?
Peyton laughed. Why did her friend even bother asking? Most Friday nights they ended up either here or at Alex’s place after Stave closed.
Yep.
Be right over.
It was forty degrees outside and with the wind off the ocean, it felt colder, but Alex still walked in wearing jeans and a sleeveless shirt. Peyton stopped asking if she was cold years ago since Alex’s response was always that the red hot Hispanic blood running through her veins kept her warm.
Peyton and Alex had
