It wasn’t as if he wasn’t often grateful to be the cop in a quiet little town where not much exciting happened, but on the day that Peyton decided to fly off to Baltimore with Heather for an impromptu girls’ weekend/blind date, he would have been happy to have little more to do than cruise the streets, stop in at the businesses, and do paperwork.

He was finally winding up his shift, looking forward to stopping in at the Come Again with Kyle and Derek for an hour or so, and wondering why in the fuck Peyton hadn’t texted to tell him she was safely on the ground in Baltimore. He was also going through all of the things he was going to do if he didn’t hear from her in the next thirty minutes, including calling the Baltimore PD and getting on a plane himself. He turned the corner at Main and First, headed for the bar, but noticed Hope Bennett’s car at the pump at the gas station. He pulled in.

“Hey, Hope.” Scott took the gas nozzle from her and inserted it into her gas tank.

“Hi, Scott.” She grinned up at him. Her blonde hair was so light that the pink tips she put in showed up vividly under the fluorescent lights overhead. “Thanks.”

“Where’s your big, strapping husband? Shouldn’t he be filling your car?”

“He’s in the field,” she said. “And I’ve been putting gas in my own car for a long time now.” But her smile assured him she knew he was kidding.

TJ Bennett was not only Sapphire Fall’s mayor, but he was also a local farmer with several hundred acres who worked his ass off. As did all of the farmers here. Scott had grown up here in farm country, but he hadn’t really appreciated the hours and the work it took until he’d gotten older. He knew that was one of the reasons he loved it here—hard-working, honest people who did the right thing and helped each other out deserved to have their peaceful, friendly way of life protected. Hell, the rest of the world could take some love-your-neighbor-as-yourself lessons from Sapphire Falls.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Big as a barn and excited and terrified,” Hope said with a light laugh.

Scott smiled back and was hit by a streak of jealousy for TJ. Not because Scott wanted Hope, but because Scott wanted what Hope had given TJ—and vice versa. Hope had come to town, essentially a gypsy. She’d been intent on seeing the country from the seat of a tiny yellow Fiat, pulling a tiny one-person camper behind. She’d lost her mother and had decided to live one summer the way her mother had—with her whole heart, open to new experiences and people, with no rules.

She’d ended up in Sapphire Falls—one of her mother’s old haunts and favorite places—met TJ Bennett her first day, and the rest was history. And a really great love story.

And while here, she’d met Peyton, the half-sister she hadn’t even known she’d had.

“Soon right?” Scott asked.

Hope ran a hand over her belly. “Very soon.”

“And you don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Scott asked.

“Nope. Total surprise.”

“How about names?” Scott asked, as the pump clicked off, indicating the tank was full. “Anything picked out.”

Hope gave him a smile. “You can just ask me about Peyton, Scott.”

Well, so much for being interested in something other than his own concerns. Scott ran a hand through his hair. “Have you heard from her?”

“Since she texted me that she was on her way to Baltimore with Heather a few hours ago?” Hope asked. “No.”

“She should have landed over an hour ago,” he said.

Hope nodded. “Probably.”

“That doesn’t concern you?”

Hope laughed. “No. But then I didn’t tell her to check in.”

“Why not?”

Hope lifted a brow. “Because she’s a grown woman and I don’t need to know where she is every second of the day.”

Scott blew out a breath. Yeah, okay. “What if there was a problem?”

“Scott,” Hope said, patiently. “In the past three years, when has Peyton ever had a problem that you didn’t get called about?”

Well, there might have been two or three but…yeah, she had a point. “So you think she’ll call if there’s an issue rather than calling because things are fine.”

“I think that she’s in a big city with her girlfriend and they’re probably having fun, and yes, I know she’ll call you if there are any issues.”

Hope was right. He was overreacting. But what was fucking new about that when it came to Peyton?

You know,” Hope went on. “It’s possible she’s not calling you on purpose.”

“To drive me crazy?” Scott asked.

Hope laughed. “Actually no. She’s trying to…not just need you.”

Scott frowned. “Not just need me?”

“I think she’d rather not need you at all, actually,” Hope told him.

He felt his frown deepen. “Why not?” Peyton needing him was one of the things he most looked forward to. The woman could handle herself. She could deal with anything. She was fierce and strong and loyal and just about everyone in town owed her a favor. That she called him…yeah, pathetically, it made him feel important. “Because of Dan and Jo?”

Hope opened her mouth, then shut it.

Scott nodded. “She says I remind her of Dan sometimes.” He kept his tone devoid of his dislike for the other man. Dan was Hope’s father too, after all.

It didn’t look like him reminding Peyton of Dan was news to Hope, judging by her expression.

“She’s told you this?” he asked.

“Peyton doesn’t have many thoughts and feelings she doesn’t express,” Hope said, almost apologetically.

Well, he couldn’t disagree with that. When Peyton was pissed, you knew it. When she was hurt by her dad, you knew it. When she thought you were smothering her, you knew it.

“And she thinks she’s like JoEllen,” Hope added. “And there is nothing that Peyton wants to avoid more than being like her mother.”

Peyton’s mom was sick. She had, evidently, been diagnosed as bipolar when Peyton was very young. But it wasn’t her mental illness that Peyton hated, Scott knew. It was the way that JoEllen used it to control her husband. And how Dan used it as an excuse to focus everything in his life on Jo. She was a manipulator and Dan was an enabler. Everyone in town knew it. Everyone in town saw it. It was no big secret. But it had kept them both from being parents to Peyton. She’d been Sapphire Falls’ charity case as a little girl, and then on her own as soon as she was old enough to be. Or as soon as she was old enough to no longer want to be pitied.

The whole thing made it very difficult for Scott to be nice to her parents when he ran into them around town. And he didn’t think he was the only one who felt that way.

“Peyton’s nothing like Jo,” he said. “She’s strong and independent and totally focused on her friends and the people she cares about.”

Hope nodded. “I think so too. But when she was a kid, Peyton saw Jo’s manipulations and problems as a way of getting Dan’s attention. So Peyton used the same tactics. She got into trouble, caused problems, needed Dan to come get her and clean up her messes. It’s an old, bad habit, and she was using it when she met you too. She pushed her boundaries with you over and over for a long time.”

Scott couldn’t deny any of that. “But she’s grown up.”

Hope shrugged. “I’m not the one who has to believe that. She is.”

“And she thinks me being there for her is similar to how Dan’s made JoEllen the center of his entire universe at the expense of everything else?”

But even as he said it out loud, Scott groaned internally. Peyton was not his whole life. But okay, she did take up a lot of his time and energy and thoughts and…

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Hope laughed lightly. “Listen, personally, I love having someone so enamored with her.”

“Don’t use words like enamored,” he said. “I have a feeling that would make her break out in hives.”

Hope looked vastly amused. “I think you’re right.”

“And you think that’s why she’s not calling or texting? Because she doesn’t want to be needy?”

Hope nodded. “I do. And maybe in an attempt to not be on your mind all the time.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said. “It’s not like I only feel that way when I hear her name or see her.”

“I know.”

“And she’ll never understand that? Or understand that it’s okay?” he asked, feeling a stupid sense of desperation and wishing like hell he could hold it back. But there was something about Hope Bennett that made a person feel comfortable being totally open. Even about things they hadn’t been totally open about with anyone else. Even themselves. But yeah, he was fucking afraid that Peyton would never come around.

Hope gave him a sympathetic look and reached out to squeeze his arm. “Maybe you need to need her a little bit too.”

“Need her?” Hell, he could make a very long list of things he needed from Peyton. And they didn’t even all involve her being naked. He needed her to laugh, he needed her to feel safe, he needed her to know she was amazing. He took a deep breath. Okay, not what Hope meant. He knew that. But he wasn’t great at needing things for himself.

“Yes,” Hope said thoughtfully. “She needs to be needed. She comes to her friends’ defenses all the time when someone does something shitty to them, but it’s always…”

“Crazy? Over-the-top? More than necessary? Stuff they don’t even ask for some of the time?” Scott filled in, some of his frustration bleeding into his words. Peyton was loyal and tough. But it was almost as if she was channeling a shit-ton of rage into standing up for her friends when they’d been slighted.

Huh, Scott thought as that idea went through his head. That was pretty much exactly what she was doing. Like jumping on a plane to Baltimore with Heather at the last minute with very few details. She was doing stuff for people that no one had ever done for her. And then some.

Hope nodded. “I just really think she needs to be needed for more…normal stuff. Everyday stuff.”

Everyday stuff. That was what he was fricking trying to do. The woman wouldn’t even agree to go to a movie with him. He huffed out a breath. “And I shouldn’t be there every time she calls?” Scott asked.

“I think it’s great that you’re there when she calls,” Hope said, shaking her head. “I just don’t think that you need to go hunt her down in Baltimore when she doesn’t call.”

“Yeah, okay.” That would mean squelching several of his instincts regarding Peyton, but yeah, okay.

Just then, something caught his eye over Hope’s shoulder. A group of kids had just entered the square. Which wasn’t unusual, exactly. But it was just after seven on a Friday night and those kids were only in sixth grade. And they were huddled around something that they seemed very excited about—and very interested in hiding.

Yep, that was his cue.

Hope noticed his attention had shifted and turned. “What’s going on?”

“Need to check on something,” he said, nodding in the kids’ direction. “Thanks for the talk. And advice.”

“Anytime. One last word?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t give up on her. No one needs to be loved more than Peyton. And no one’s going to be tougher to love. But she’s also going to be totally worth it.”

And that right there grabbed him by the heart and squeezed. Because Hope was right. And Scott was the man to do it. “I can’t promise to walk on eggshells about it,” he said.

Hope gave him a bright smile, and Scott figured that right there was how TJ Bennett had fallen ass over boots for her. “Eggshells is the last way to be with her.”

Yeah, then he had this covered. He absolutely felt like stomping into Peyton’s life—and heart. No tiptoeing, no being careful. Stubborn, no-nonsense, all-in—that was more his style.

He gave Hope a little hug and then started across the street to the town square.

There was no reason for the kids not to be in the square this time of night. It was April, so daylight savings time had kicked in and it was lighter later; it was Friday, so there was no school tomorrow; and hey, hanging out with friends in the heart of Sapphire Falls was the best, at any age. But it didn’t hurt to check up on eight eleven and twelve-year-olds oohing and awing over something. If it was a new video game or some great YouTube video, that was one thing. If it was pictures of naked women, alcohol or smokes, he’d have to intervene.

“Hey guys,” he called as he hit the grass. He supposed if they ran, he’d also know something was up. All he really needed was to snag Chase Walker. It appeared he was the center of attention. The kid’s back was to Scott, but he was wearing his hoodie sweatshirt with WALKER across the back.

“It’s Scott,” he heard one kid whisper loudly.

“Crap, the cop!” said another.

“My dad will kill me!” was another response.

Oh, yeah, Scott needed to see whatever this was. “What are you guys—”

Chase swung around just then. He was holding a gun.

Scott stopped. Chase looked scared. Really scared. And a gun in the hands of someone who didn’t know how to use it, and was scared, was almost as bad as someone who was aiming it on purpose.

“Chase,” Scott said firmly and calmly. “Put it down.”

“We’re not doin’ anything,” Chase said quickly, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m just showing them.”

“Okay.” Scott nodded. Hopefully the damned thing wasn’t loaded. “Is it yours?”

Chase nodded. “Got it for my birthday. I’m gonna take classes with MacKenzie and then Dad’s going to take me target shooting.”

Scott nodded again. MacKenzie Cruise had a shooting range and obstacle course out on her land. She taught shooting with all types of guns, as well as archery. She was even talking with Tucker Bennett about bringing in some competitions and using his dirt bike track and arena as a site.

“And you wanted to show it off to your friends,” Scott said. “I get it. But we can’t have guns in the square.”

Chase looked even more nervous now.

“Does your dad know you took it out?”

Chase shook his head. Yeah, that’s what Scott had figured. “Okay, well, you give it to me and I’ll take care of it until we can get it back to your dad. You shouldn’t have this out without him around. Got it?”

“You can’t tell him!” Chase said.

“I have to,” Scott said in a tone that left no room for argument. “Bring it over here to me.”

Chase glanced back at his friends. The move shifted the gun higher and suddenly there was a loud crack—and then Scott felt a white-hot pain stabbing him in the thigh.

He went to his knees. Son of a bitch, he’d been shot.

“Shit!”

“Oh my God!”

“Did you kill him?”

Those were the shouts he heard first. He gritted his teeth and pressed his hand against the painful spot in his thigh. His hand came away with a lot of blood. It was pulsing under his hand, the blood bright red, and Scott swore. He’d nicked an artery or something. He focused on the kids. He had to get the gun away from Chase before he accidentally shot someone else.

“Chase,” he said tightly. “Don’t drop it. But set the gun on the ground. Carefully.” Of course the fucking thing had been loaded. Of course the safety had been off. Son of a bitch. At least the bullet had come for Scott and not one of the kids.

Chase did as he was told, quickly, and then backed away. His face was pale and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m going to be okay,” Scott told him. But he felt like his head was spinning. Shock possibly. Or loss of blood. Fuck.

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He heard Hope’s voice next.

“Oh my God, Scott!”

She must have seen what happened or heard the gunshot from across the street.

She knelt beside him, and even with the pain in his leg and the dizziness washing over his mind, he had to wonder how she was going to get back up.

“Don’t put yourself into labor,” Scott said, trying for lighthearted. But he thought he sounded more like he was trying to talk through a lot of pain.

“If I go now, it’s fine. Baby is almost full-term,” she told him, clearly also trying for levity. It didn’t sound much better from her.

“Call Kyle,” Scott said, handing her his phone. Then he lay back on the grass and pressed his hand against his wound. It hurt like a mother, but he had to try to stop some of the bleeding.

The sound of other people thundering toward him registered as he listened to Hope talk to Kyle.

“Scott’s been shot. In the thigh. Town square. Just a minute ago.”

Short and sweet. That’s all Kyle would need. He was at the Come Again with Derek. Literally two blocks away. That was as good as calling 9-1-1. Kyle would get here and the ambulance would be two minutes away. It was parked just on the other side of the square and Derek was one of the EMTs.

Then Hope shifted in beside him. She’d pulled her T-shirt off, leaving her in a silky tank, and was pushing his hand out of the way.

“We need something more than your hand,” she told him.

He nodded. She was probably right. She was a nurse. She also did yoga and was into essential oils and herbs and stuff.

“You got any potions on you for this?” he asked.

Did his voice sound funny to everyone else like it did to him?

“To magically heal a gunshot wound?” she asked with a smile. “Sorry.”

“How about to kill the pain? I don’t want Kyle and Derek to give me shit about being a wuss.”

Hope was leaning most of her weight on his leg. It burned, but he knew that whatever was bleeding was going to need a lot of force to stem it. “Well, they’ll have to deal with me if they give you any shit,” she said. “And remember, I help Kyle out in the clinic. If he gets mouthy with you, I’ll book him with patients through lunch for the next week.”

Scott laughed. But that also sounded, and felt, weak.

Kyle was kneeling over him a minute later. “Jesus, Scott, you just have to make things dramatic, don’t you?” he asked, examining the wound. “Fuck,” was his assessment a moment later.

Yeah, that wasn’t good. But Kyle and Hope and Derek were there. So he was going to be fine.

With that thought, Scott let the darkness that had been threatening at the edges of his consciousness wash over him.

* * *

So, he’d finally figured out how to get Peyton Wells to come to him.

He just had to get shot.

Scott tried to lift a hand to drag it over his face, but found he was pulling a long tube attached to a needle in the back of his hand as he did it. IV. Right.

He used his other hand, scrubbing it over his stubbled jaw and through his hair. He felt like hell. He wasn’t in pain—the IV was helping with that—but he was groggy and he fucking hated that.

Especially when he was going to have to deal with Peyton. The woman could make a saint lose his shit. And Scott was no saint. Especially considering how much he was enjoying her being bent over, stowing something in the drawer in the cabinets across from his hospital bed.

But the fact that she was here at all made his pulse pound harder than the sweet curve of her ass in those jeans. She’d come back from Baltimore—fucking Baltimore—because of him.

“Hey, Trouble.”

She gasped and whirled, clutching something to her chest. Her brows almost immediately slammed together over the blue eyes that shot sparks that always went straight to Scott’s heart. And other places. Lower. Much lower.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“Whatteryoudoin’?” Fuck. He was slurring. It was the damned pain meds. And the anesthesia that should be wearing off any damned minute. He hated both.

“Honestly? Wishing you were still unconscious.” She tucked her hands behind her back.

Yeah, he had to see what she was holding. “Sorry.” He worked on sitting up more fully in the bed. The head of the bed was propped slightly, but he definitely couldn’t get a good look at her in his position.

He sucked in a quick breath as his leg moved. Fuck. He gritted his teeth and reached for his thigh, moving it with his hand instead of the muscles that had been pierced by the bullet.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Peyton was at his side a moment later. “Lie still.”

“Wanna siddup.” Scott closed his eyes as his tongue refused to articulate his words again.

“Why?”

“So I can see you.”

He heard her sigh and felt her move in closer. He opened his eyes and found her leaning on the railing by his arm.

“Here. I’m here.”

Her voice was softer now, and Scott wondered if it was the meds that were making her eyes look as if she was actually concerned. Truth be told, there were a few times in the past three years that she probably would have gladly shot him herself. In the leg. Nothing fatal. But still.

“Whaday issit?” he asked.

“Saturday.”

“You were in Baltimore,” he said, grateful that it at least came out as four separate words this time.

“Yeah. I was.”

“When did you come back?”

She sighed. “Last night.”

“Right away?”

“Yes. This is a pretty elaborate way to keep me from going on that date,” she said.

It was almost as if she was teasing him.

He felt one side of his mouth curl up. “Not sorry.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, well, now that I see you’re going to live through this, maybe I’ll head back out there. Seth was cute.”

The pain meds didn’t slow him down a bit when he grabbed her wrist. “No.”

She was clearly surprised by his touch too, but she didn’t pull away. “I gave a couple bags of blood, brought you more clothes and…” She coughed. “What more do you want?”

“You.” That was always the answer.

Peyton shook her head. “Still pushing with a bullet in your leg and major doses of morphine pumping through you?”

“They took the bullet out,” he said. “And yeah. Always.” So he was feeling a little sappy. It was the drugs. And the fact that she’d flown back from Baltimore. And that she was here. So what? He still meant every word.

Emotion flickered in her eyes at his answer. “The morphine is making you loopy,” she said.

He glanced up at the plastic bag dripping overhead. “It’s morphine?”

“Yeah. That’s what the nurse said when I asked.”

Scott focused on her again. “You asked?”

Peyton frowned, as if he’d caught her doing something she didn’t want him to know about. “I needed to know how goofy you might be when you woke up.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I need to borrow some money.”

He shifted on the mattress. He didn’t like this position at all. He loved her concern, but he felt pretty damned vulnerable right now. He felt as if his thoughts were slogging through thick mud to get to his mouth. He couldn’t move without his leg protesting, and he was in only a hospital gown. As he became more coherent, he also became more and more aware that he was definitely not at his best or strongest. Best and strongest were required for handling Peyton Wells.

“You can have as much as you want,” he told her.

She frowned. “Maybe I need to borrow your car.”

“Take it.”

“Maybe I want to take advantage of you.”

She leaned closer and Scott took a big breath of her sweet-and-spicy scent. His body stirred, as usual, and then he shook his head, as usual. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she asked, that not-quite-teasing gleam in her eye. “You know better.”

Scott knew that Peyton wanted him. Everyone knew that. Peyton wasn’t great at hiding her feelings—good, bad, and everything in between. And she hadn’t done one thing to hide how she felt about Scott, from him or anyone else.

But she didn’t want dinners and movies and holding hands at hometown football games and parties with their friends at the river, and all of the other things couples did together. And that’s why he kept turning her down for the hot sex she offered on a regular basis. And he might be the only person on the planet as stubborn as she was.

Except of course for St. Patrick’s Day. But that had been a huge mistake. He never should have given in. For one thing, Peyton thought she’d won. For another, he hadn’t been…his best. Jesus, he hated thinking about St. Patrick’s Day.

“Of course, I really do like it when you can fully participate,” she said.

He saw the heat in her eyes and knew that she was remembering the times that she’d worn him down. St. Patrick’s Day might have been the first and only actual sex they’d had, but she’d gotten some kissing and some well-placed stroking over the years in some of his weaker moments.

Yeah, so, he hadn’t been able to completely keep her at arm’s length. She was persistent. And sexy as hell. And the woman he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anyone else in his life.

“So, fine. I don’t need anything,” she said. “I just came to check on you.”

He still held her wrist, so when she tried to straighten, she couldn’t get too far away. He tugged and she leaned in again. “You came to check on me from Baltimore?”

She nodded.

“You left that poor blind date sad and alone?”

“Well, he was with Heather.”

“But he got a good look at you? Talked to you for a little bit?” Scott asked.

“Yeah.”

“And he knows that you came rushing back here for me?” Okay, so he apparently had the capacity to be a jealous ass when it came to Peyton.

She lifted a brow but said, “Yes, he knows I came back here because you got yourself shot.”

“So he got to see and talk to this sexy, sassy, funny girl who then turned around and rushed to the airport to come home to another guy?” Scott summarized. He grinned. He shouldn’t feel smug about that. But he definitely felt smug. “That’s awesome.”

Peyton rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“And you brought me more clothes?”

“I did. Hope said you were in uniform and they had to cut your pants up anyway. And for the record, the town cop not locking his back door is kind of stupid.”

“It’s Sapphire Falls.” He didn’t need to lock his door. No one else did.

And he made sure that was okay. Nobody messed with his town.

He loved the place. He’d grown up there. He’d left for college and the academy and he’d worked in Omaha for a while, but he’d always wanted to come back. Especially after being a part of a multistate sex trafficking task force. He’d been gung-ho to get in there and bust up some bad guys and do the hero thing. He’d seen some shit and done the good-guy thing. And then when given the chance to settle down in his hometown and jump in on the task force only as needed for special operations along I-80, he’d taken it.

He was home now. He was taking care of his family, friends and neighbors.

And there was Peyton.

“What else did you bring me?” he asked.

She still had one hand behind her back, he noted. Holding something she didn’t want him to see.

“Nothing.” She frowned. “I came to check on you, I brought you clothes, and I gave blood.”

He wouldn’t have any of her blood. She hadn’t been here when he’d been hooked up to the pints to replace what he’d lost in the town square. But the fact that she’d shown up and donated, because of him, made him happy. It was a big deal that Peyton was here, bringing him things. Even if they were his own clothes. He wasn’t sure she’d ever given him anything before. Other than her sweet body and a few secrets…

He shut that down. He couldn’t get all stirred up here. St. Patrick’s Day had been a mistake and he wasn’t repeating that. He was not sleeping with Peyton again. Not unless she agreed they should have more than sex.

But this was the kind of everyday stuff he needed. Maybe this was a step in the direction he and Hope had talked about. Not the getting-shot part. But the part where he needed Peyton to help him out.

“You’re hiding something behind your back,” he said. “What is it?”

“None of your business.”

He wasn’t buying it. “You brought me something else but you were planning to stash it in the drawer with my clothes and have me never find out who it was really from.”

He saw the flicker in her eyes that said he was dead-oon. He grinned. “What is it?”

“Naked photos of me.”

Scott’s hand tightened around her wrist. “Don’t mess with me.”

She would absolutely give him naked pictures of herself. That was exactly the kind of thing she’d do to tempt him.

Scott completely believed that he was stronger and truer and more fucking noble than any other guy he knew because he’d been resisting this for the past almost two years.

Twenty months ago—not that he was keeping track— Peyton had started messing with him. He knew it had begun as a game to get the big, tough do-gooder cop to crack. Men always cracked when Peyton turned on her special smile, shortened her skirt, and batted her big blue eyes. But not Scott. By then, he knew her. She had plenty of attention, plenty of adoring male fans, plenty of fun. What she didn’t have were many people who really knew her and cared about her and wanted to protect her.

“Show me what you brought me,” he said in his best cop-in-charge voice.

Not that that voice ever worked with Peyton.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” she asked.

Which is what she always asked when she realized that he knew her better than she thought he did.

“Show. Me.”

With a heavy, mostly fake, put-upon sigh, she pulled her hand from behind her back.

It was a bouquet. Kind of. It was three bags of Corn Nuts stuck to three pencils and tied with a bow. It was a bouquet of Corn Nuts. His all-time favorite snack. She’d even included nacho cheese, barbecue, and ranch.

He looked up at her. “If I wasn’t crazy about you before, now I am.”

She rolled her eyes as she laid them on the bed. And that was something he was going to change eventually too. She was going to believe him when he said that stuff.

“They’re just Corn Nuts. You know how I feel about them.”

He did. She felt they were one of the most overrated snacks. But her favorite thing was popcorn balls, so he couldn’t trust her taste. He definitely went for salty over sweet. Spicy was even better. And he loved that she’d brought these.

“You made them into a bouquet,” he said with a grin. Peyton was hardly the whimsical type. Or the crafty type.

“I was stuck in the Atlanta airport with nothing to do,” she said with a shrug. “In one shop, they had bouquets with candy bars and I thought…never mind. It’s dumb. Exactly why I was trying to hide them.”

Yeah, Peyton didn’t show her soft side much, but it was there. And he fucking loved it. Especially the idea that it might be directed at him. He tugged her down and as she leaned in, he knew that she knew exactly what he intended to do. She kept coming anyway.

“Not dumb,” he said gruffly against her mouth.

When her lips met his, a definite shot of hell, yeah went through him. But he kept it sweet.

Then she gripped the front of his gown in her fist and kissed him harder, deeper. Her other hand cupped his cheek, ran over his face, and down his neck and over his shoulder. Almost as if she needed to reassure herself that he was there and okay.

He wanted to grab her and hug her and comfort her. Even though he was the one hooked up to tubes and monitors. But that was a normal state for him with Peyton. Something about this woman made the protective, fighter-of-good-versus-evil inside of him swell to gargantuan proportions. Always had.

“Mr. Hansen.”

Peyton straightened quickly as the nurse came into the room.

Crap. That was horrible timing. Or maybe it was perfect timing. He cleared his throat. Peyton looked at him and he looked down at his lap. She followed his gaze and then grabbed the blankets and bunched them up over the erection she’d caused.

Scott grinned. The girl got him, even if she didn’t want to. She moved to block the nurse’s view of his happy-to-be-alive body part while he fought to get his desire under control.

But he didn’t miss that Peyton ran the pads of two fingers over her lips. Men didn’t kiss Peyton sweetly. Men didn’t make Peyton go soft. Except for him. He was different, and one of these days she was going to understand that.