twenty-one
peyton
I lay in bed. I had gotten used to sleeping, finally found sleep with Rutledge at my side, but with him gone I couldn’t find it. Two days I tossed and turned. I reached for his pillow, but his scent had faded. They say major life events can have a profound impact on a person’s life. Buying a home was a major life event, one that threw us together, a man hell-bent on forgetting something and me intently looking for something. Rolling onto my back, my arm moving over my eyes. I knew now that he was what I’d been looking for.
Climbing from bed, I walked to the window. His tormented cry from the other night haunted me, not just the pain but his anguish. What the hell had happened to him? And how the hell could a father turn his back on his son when he needed him the most? It made his behavior that first day even more appalling, and it broke my heart. I wished even more now that I’d known his grandmother because he was who he was because of her.
He said I was his peace. I really wanted to be that for him, but I wasn’t sure I was enough. Tears welled at the thought of his demons winning, of him suffering in silence, at the idea that one day he’d be gone. And I believed that, as much as it pained me, that as much as he wanted me, it wasn’t enough.
Panic squeezed my chest, a part of me wanted to tell him not to come back. If I felt what I did after a couple weeks, what happened after months? When he left, he’d haunt me; he’d become my own personal demon because every inch of that house he’d be there, a reminder of how close I had come to happy. It seemed remarkably cruel to bring someone into my life, someone who filled all the empty places, only to be forced to watch as he walked away. And even saying that, if that was the purpose of us finding each other, a chance for him to know peace, even just for a little while, I’d happily face the demons that followed to give him that.
I couldn’t think about it. I moved to the bathroom, turned on the shower. I had him now, so I wasn’t going to take a second of our time together for granted.
***
Rutledge: Morning, Peaches.
I was walking through town and at the early hour, it felt like I had it all to myself.
Me: Morning. I’m out early, The Great Martin isn’t even on his corner.
Rutledge: Why the fuck you out of your room before 8am?
I knew he was going to say that before he did. I grinned as I replied.
Me: The sooner I leave the sooner I get back.
Rutledge: Yeah, I get it, but still, you shouldn’t be out this fucking early. I’m gonna grab a shower and head to my meeting. I’ll text ya before I go in.
I ignored his reprimand cause all I heard was him naked and wet. I was missing it. Damn it. Absently I typed back.
Me: Ok.
Rutledge: If I told ya I was gonna jerk off to thoughts of you in it, what would you say? ;)
Me: I’d say I should immediately go back to my room so you can go into detail. ; )
Rutledge: That’s my girl. ;) Later, Peaches.
Me: Later, Rutledge.
***
Willy leaned up against the counter in the kitchen, mug in hand. “Looks bad now, but it’s going to be amazing when done,” he offered before taking a sip.
Every morning, I was here before the crew. I stayed out of the way, but I used the time to work on the decorating, plus I wanted to be here for questions.
Willy always arrived before everyone else, at least by a half an hour. We had gotten into a routine. I had coffee ready, he brought donuts, and we shared a few minutes in the morning. Usually it was just updates on the house. Willy didn’t have a family. His family was Herb. A strange duo. Herb being Herb, though he had been on his best behavior since Rut had the talk, and Willy being like a big teddy bear. I enjoyed those few minutes in the morning.
His eyes found mine over his mug. “You’ve got a good eye.”
“Catalogs. I’m a total catalog junkie. I can’t take credit for much of my ideas. I just know what I like.”
He reached for a jelly donut, took a bite, raspberry filling dripped down his chin. He chewed, licked away the jelly. “Well, I like your style.”
I liked his too.
He finished his coffee and set the mug on the counter. “I’m going to get started.” He turned for the door, but glanced back. “You got a favorite donut?”
Smiling at the memory I said, “Glazed.”
“I’ll bring some of those tomorrow.” He walked out before I could reply.
Yeah, I really liked our morning routine.
***
I was heading to the travel agent who also handled car rentals. It was cold today. Good thing I was going back, I needed my winter clothes. I stopped walking, back not home. It was true, I felt more at home here than I ever had in Boston, and I knew a big part of that was less geography and more about Rutledge.
I reached for my phone and called Coda.
He answered, “Hey. I was just going to text you. How did closing go?”
“It’s mine.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m renting a car and coming home. I need to pack up.”
“I could have come for you.”
“I know you would have, but that’s a lot of unnecessary driving. I’ll be home this afternoon.”
“I’ve got plans, but I’ll cancel.”
“No, Coda. Don’t change your plans. I actually would like to be alone while I pack.”
His voice went soft. “You’re thinking about your parents.”
I was. They were always in my thoughts, but it was the big moments that their absence hurt. “Yeah.”
“Okay. But I’ll be at your door first thing in the morning. I’ll take you to Jake’s.”
My favorite breakfast place. “Sounds great.”
A slight hesitation followed before Coda asked, “Where’s Rutledge?”
“He was called back for a meeting. He wanted to bring me back.”
Silence followed.
“What Coda?”
“I get it. Being with Laura, I get it when someone knocks you over the head, but…” A pregnant pause.
“Coda?”
“That dude has got a dark side.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want him pulling you into it.”
Rut didn’t want that either. He already had one foot out the door to keep that from happening. “That won’t happen.”
“How do you know?”
I spoke the words that I didn’t want to acknowledge out loud. “Because he’ll never let me get close enough to get pulled in.”
“Well, that’s not fucking good either.”
The words were so hard to say, even being the truth. “He’s not the ending to my story, Coda. He’s just a chapter.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I have to be because I’ve never felt this way.”
A sharp exhale before he added, “Maybe it will be a long chapter.”
I hoped so. A tingling at my nape had me rubbing it away. I glanced around, couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It was the first time in town that my sixth sense stirred and not just stirred but warned. An icy chill followed because at the house there had been several incidents, including someone trying to break into the shed. I hadn’t shared that with Rut, but I needed to. Why? The house didn’t have a lock box, open for anyone to enter, but whoever had been on the property tried to access the crumbling shed. What the hell for?
“What’s wrong?” Coda asked.
I glanced around again, but I didn’t see anyone. Maybe I was just feeling overly sensitive. “I guess nothing.”
“Text me when you leave, text me when you get to your condo.”
“I will. Have fun with Laura.”
I disconnected and dropped my phone in my purse. With all the strange occurrences of late, I couldn’t lie I was unnerved. I picked up my pace.
***
It was late. I looked around at my apartment. Considering how long I’d lived here, I didn’t have that much stuff. I’d stopped on my way home, to get boxes, tape, and markers. Over the last two days, I had made arrangements for the movers; they had been super flexible, so I was able to schedule them for tomorrow. My things would be stored at a self-storage place, another thing I’d arranged for. Only what I needed would be coming with me in the car.
My phone sat on the coffee table. The last time we texted, Rut said he’d be home by ten. It was only minutes after, but I reached for my phone and called him.
“Hey,” he answered the phone seemingly out of breath.
“Hi. Did I call at a bad time?”
“No,” he quickly said and added, “Just came in from a run. Tried to clear my fucking head. Whatcha up to?”
He just came in from a run. I was visualizing him all sweaty, getting into the shower, and remembering how fantastic showering with him was. I didn’t realize I said the words until he answered them. “I’m missing another shower.”
His voice was low, “Then I owe you two showers when I get back, Peaches, sound good?”
“Better than good. We could make it a whole day of showers, interrupted with moments of food to keep our energy up.” Bold for me, but I meant every word.
When he spoke again, his voice was even lower and gravelly. “Is someone horny?”
In answer, my clit pulsed. The fact that I answered him without hesitation surprised me. “Yes.”
The growl over the phone produced another throb between my legs, and he asked, “Where are you?”
I didn’t immediately understand the meaning of his question and looked around before saying, “In my living room amongst the boxes I packed.”
“Coda still with you?” he quickly asked.
It dawned then as a delicious chill accompanied the ache between my thighs. “I’m alone.”
I was getting acquainted with the tones of his voice, and when he spoke, it was filled with want. “Take your clothes off.”
Heat pooled between my legs. I’d never had phone sex, hadn’t a clue what I was doing, but holy shit. I dragged my shirt over my head before I answered, “Okay.” The fact that the word came out breathlessly couldn’t be helped.
“Put me on speaker phone,” he demanded and I could hear his already was by the rustling in the background.
I did as ordered, felt the nerves then so I confessed, “I’ve never done this before.”
“Jesus,” he grated out and said in a low voice that he wasn’t expecting me to hear, but I did. “A virgin on so many levels.” And he went on, his voice louder this time and deeper. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you. Now, lie down and put the phone next to your head.”
I moved into my bedroom and did as he asked. My voice shook a bit when I replied, “I’m lying down.” I paused briefly and asked, “How many times have you?”
“More than I should have,” he answered, but from the tone in his voice, he wasn’t boasting. It almost sounded like he was ashamed of it. I was about to comment when he continued, “Where are you lying? I need you to talk to me, sweetheart.”
“On my bed.”
His voice a whisper next to my ear. “Close your eyes, bend your knees, spread your legs. You feel the coolness on your pussy?”
Closing my eyes, seeing his face, his body. It made it easier. Warmth moved in, pushing out the nerves. “Yes.”
He let out a deep sigh and said, “How cold does it feel, baby?”
“Cold,” I replied because the coolness between my legs was stronger the longer I stayed in the position.
“Fuck,” he rumbled. “That lets me know how fucking wet you are for me.” His tone was deeper when he ordered, “Glide your hand down your body, tell me what you feel.”
My nerves spiked, but a warmth flowed through my body too. I wasn’t used to talking like this. I was never one to engage in talking dirty to a man. But there was something about Rutledge that made me want to, and with how he was, so demanding. I knew I’d have no choice but to use the language he did.
“I feel the softness of my body under my fingertips, the warmth of my skin.”
He egged me on, “Keep going, Peaches.”
My breath hitched when I reached my folds, the dampness of the hair there. My fingers kept traveling. “I’m wet.”
He let out a slight laugh. “I bet you are, baby. Tell me about it?”
My voice was low. “You tell me about you.”
“My pleasure,” he said and went on with a much lower voice. “I’m sitting on my couch, my phone lying on my chest, and I’m stroking my cock while picturing you naked with your hand between your spread legs.”
A small moan fell from my lips as that image floated through my head.
“How wet are you, Peaches?”
Should I lie? Should I tell him the truth? I didn’t want to make it sound like I was a needy woman swimming in my own juices for him, but I was. “Wetter than I’ve ever been.”
“What?” he asked quickly. Teasingly he questioned, “So, you’re wetter for me over the phone than in person?”
“No!” I answered rapidly. I was such a moron. Maybe I should tell him my neighbor came by, needed a cup of sugar, something, because I wasn’t doing very well with this. “I...” I stumbled and now completely embarrassed. “I—”
He cut me off, his voice was soft when he told me, “I’m only teasing.” There was a brief pause before he spoke again. “Run your index finger around your pussy, get it nice and wet. Then start rubbing your clit.”
Still feeling self-conscious over my stupid comment, I did as he ordered. Coating my finger, I worked my clit. Nerves kept me from getting into it. “Talk to me, I want to hear your voice.”
“You feel the softness of your finger, baby?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He let out a heavy breath. “Remember what my tongue felt like?”
It was so easy to bring that vision to mind, to feel his tongue on me. My clit pulsed and swelled and the tingles started, they ran down my legs and actually curled my toes. I answered on a moan, “God yes.”
“Then picture it, that’s my tongue running circles around your clit. Driving you crazy, teasing your clit with the tip of my tongue. You feel it?”
I did feel it. Felt him. On a sigh I whispered, “Yes.”
“Fuck,” he growled. “I wish I was there, my face buried in your pussy, tasting you, feeling the softness of your lips, your clit, the inside of your cunt on my tongue.” He let out a groan and got quiet.
A moan moved up my throat at his words, lust having my own releasing on a groan. “I wish I could come in your mouth and on your cock.”
Once the words left my mouth a deep guttural growl came over the phone, accompanied by a low rumbling, “Fuck…”
My finger picked up the pace. My hips jerked off the mattress. This time the moan caught in my throat. “I’m about to come...”
“Fuck,” he grunted in a deep voice. The voice he used when he was just as close to the edge as I was. “Me too, I’m fucking close. I need you to come, Peaches. Need to hear you moan my name.”
I pressed down hard on my clit, the orgasm rolled over me, as I cried out his name.
“Fuck,” he grumbled and I knew he was coming with me.
***
Coda took me to breakfast; Jake’s French toast was heaven, mascarpone cheese and strawberries stuffed inside brioche bread. Though I found I preferred pumpkin scones and glazed donuts, or rather the company I shared them with. After breakfast, I stood in my empty apartment. The movers were already on their way to Maine. Coda was getting my rental filled with gas. It had been an argument to get him to stay back. There was no point in him driving to Maine and back again. I told him I’d get the gas on my way out of the city, but he knew me well enough to know I wanted a few minutes in my empty apartment. It wasn’t the apartment, just leaving the only city I ever knew. Leaving that link to my parents. It hurt, but for the first time I was excited about the future.
Placing the key on the kitchen counter, I turned for the door when I heard footsteps, and thinking it was Coda I called, “I’m coming.”
The door opened but it wasn’t Coda. A familiar chill moved down my spine before I heard, “Peyton Morgan.”
Jack Stone stood in the threshold.
His shoulder was leaning against the doorjamb and that smarmy smile I detested curving his lips. “I see I’ve come just in the nick of time.”
I never liked the man, but it was more than dislike that caused the unease to move through me. He didn’t look right. He’d always been so smooth, from his Italian suits, California-style healthy diet, to his slicked back hair, but he looked off. “What do you want?”
“The Lassiter Project really needs you…” He lifted his hands when I started to object. “It’s not for me. It’s for the clients.”
He didn’t give a damn about the clients, but that unease took a firmer hold because this was about image, namely him looking like an unknowledgeable fool without me to keep the charade up. My words weren’t as strong as I’d have liked when I replied, “Not my problem anymore.”
The first sign of irritation moved over his face. “You just left.”
“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”
“You have to come back.”
It wasn’t just irritation, there was desperation too. Fear edged in. “No.”
He moved closer, his eyes going dark. “I didn’t want to use this but it’s Tim that it’s all falling down on.”
Tim was retiring. Jack would be the fall guy and for a man like him...I unconsciously took a step back, felt the counter behind me. He moved so fast, his hand curling around my arm squeezing so hard. In that moment, I wished Rut brought me back to pack up my stuff. I cried out. “My career isn’t going to hell because of some uptight bitch.”
I tried to break free, his hold tightened. “You are required to give two weeks’ notice. You need to use those two weeks getting me up to speed on Lassiter.”
As quickly as he grabbed me he was gone, flying across the room. Coda put himself between us, his chest heaving. He was livid. “Touch her again and I’ll fucking break your hands.”
Fear flashed over Jack’s face but it didn’t last for long before hatred replaced it. “She owes the firm two weeks.”
“She doesn’t owe you shit,” Coda hissed then added, “You either walk out or I toss you out. I’m hoping for the latter.”
Jack smoothed down his suit jacket, took time to run his hands over his hair. He strolled to the door, but glared back at me. “This isn’t over.”
That fear settled in my gut. Then he was gone.
“Are you okay?” Coda asked.
I absently rubbed at my arm to soothe the pain away. “Yeah.” My reply came on a shaky breath.
“What a fucking asshole.”
He was more than that, he was desperate and that made him dangerous. My attention shifted from the door to Coda. “Thank you.”
He pulled me close. “You never have to thank me. That’s what family does.”
***
“Don’t get too settled back in the Inn, I have a trailer being delivered today.” Rut informed me and went on, “Herb is gonna make sure they hook all the shit up, okay?”
It had been a couple days since I returned from Boston and still I had a knot in my stomach from the confrontation with Jack. I was glad to be back in Ogg’s Point, but Rut wasn’t because work was keeping him longer than expected. The renovations had been moving along smoothly. Without Rut’s knowledge, Fred, one of the workers, had let me put a few screws along the new oak banister. I liked it, liked that every time I used those stairs I would know I had helped, very little, but still. If not for Rut’s reaction, I’d do more, but he mattered to me and he cared about me, so before I did more I’d talk with him about it.
“You hearing me, Peaches?” he called, breaking me from my thoughts.
Remembering how this conversation started, a smile touched my lips at his high handedness of getting a trailer, but he was doing so for my benefit.
“A trailer?”
“Yeah,” he said quickly. I heard some guys yelling in the background before he finished. “No fucking point putting out a shit ton of money at the Inn when we can stay on the property.” He paused again and yelled away from the phone, “Give me five fucking minutes, will ya.” Then he was back to me. “You get me, Peaches?”
I knew his motivation but I was still on ‘we’. “We? As in you’re staying in the trailer with me?”
“You want me to sleep in the fucking yard? Maybe in a damn tent?” He tried for humor, but I heard the confusion in his voice.
Whether he wanted to admit it or not, this was a big deal. He avoided Ogg’s Point, never stayed in town and for a reason I hoped one day he’d share with me. Even when he was at the Inn with me he steered clear of the center of town. My voice softened in reply, “You’re going to stay in Ogg’s Point with me?”
“I’m gonna stay on the property, at the house with you. So babe, that’s not really Ogg’s Point. Although, I did stay at the Inn with you, went to Geno’s, also to the bakery, right?”
He could reason it away all he wanted, but we both knew his gesture was significant. The things this man made me feel, crazy at times, irritated, perpetually turned on, happy, no, he made me feel something that was way stronger than happy. “I like this idea.”
“Me too.” His voice got low, deep and husky when he told me, “ʼCause now I can really make you scream my name and not worry about the fucking neighbors hearing you.”
I physically felt those words; they moved down my body and settled between my legs. I found being with Rut that I was wet more often than the Olympic swim team. My voice was a bit hoarse when I replied, “I’m liking this idea even more now.” I needed to distract myself before I rented another car and headed to New York so he could make me scream sooner rather than later. I changed the subject. “Since my shampoo has gone MIA, I’m going to check out the shop and stock up.”
“Okay, you do that, and be safe. Text me when you get back to the house. Let me know if the trailer is good, clean and all that shit. I’m gonna see if I can get out of here in the morning.”
I unconsciously rubbed my arm and the bruises from Jack. A coldness swept through me. Rut had almost taken the head off a guy and his only offense was looking in my direction. If Rut saw the bruises, I was a little scared of what his reaction would be, but Jack’s visit had unnerved me. There had been something in his expression that cut right to the bone. I wanted to tell Rut about the encounter, but telling him now wasn’t fair.
“I’ll let you know. And thank you, Rutledge, for thinking of the trailer and for staying there with me.”
“What’s wrong?” His voice was hard.
Shit. Even over the phone he could read me. I evaded because now really wasn’t the time to tell him about Jack, but guilt twisted my stomach into a knot. “Nothing, just a little tired.”
“Okay. Then don’t be out in town too long, Peaches. Get some fucking rest, yeah?”
I really did love his way with words. Demanding even when saying something sweet. “I’ll get to sleep early. I need to be well rested for your return,” I teased.
“Damn fucking straight you need to be,” he said, and yelled away from the phone, “I’m coming.” Then he was back to me. “And Peaches?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t fucking thank me, baby, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and safe, got it?”
Yeah, I really loved his way with words. “I got it.”
“Good. Make sure you text me when you get back to the house, yeah?”
“I will.”
His voice was rough when he said, “Later, baby.”
“Later, Rut.”
The call disconnected; I held my phone to my chest for a second. That man. Warmth moved through me at the idea of staying at the house with him. Which reminded me, I needed to let the staff know I was checking out sooner than I planned.
I dropped my phone on the bed and looked up the address for the store I wanted to check out from the book of local businesses on the desk before I grabbed my stuff and headed for the door. I’d stop for a coffee and a tune on my way back. It had been too many days since I’d seen The Great Martin. I wondered what color he was wearing today.
***
The shop was down the street from where The Great Martin performed, Kinsley’s Creations. Stepping inside, it was almost too much to take in. Bottles lined the walls, islands set up throughout the floor plan featuring seasonal scents. It wasn’t just shampoos and lotions but candles and bath salts. It was incredible. The place was crowded, people milling around testing the products. A woman stood behind the counter, ringing up a customer. From her name tag, Kinsley, she was the mastermind behind the magic. I strolled around, checking out the scents, stopping when I saw the peaches and cream collection. I almost grabbed a bottle or two, but I didn’t. Pears and cinnamon, I was being sentimental, Rut would no doubt laugh at me, but our scent was pears and cinnamon.
It was clearly her most popular because she had everything from body wash to dish soap. Remembering our showers and the fact that there would be many more in our future, I almost swept everything on the display into my basket. I didn’t, but I came close. I was dropping a small fortune. Money well spent.
Waiting in line, when I reached the check out, Kinsley looked up, a small smile on her face. She was petite, smaller than my 5’ 6 frame, beautiful red hair that wasn’t dyed and hazel eyes. She greeted me, “Did you find everything you were looking for?” She then scanned my basket. “Ah, a fan of the pears and cinnamon.” She leaned closer before she added, “That’s one of my favorites, but I’m partial to vanilla dream.” She finished with a smile.
The truth was I’d probably find another scent I liked more, but none of them would ever hold a candle to this one, and all because of Rutledge Raines.
“It’s wonderful.”
“How did you hear about my shop?”
“I’m staying at the Swan Point Inn.”
“Madeline and Tom.” Another smile touched her lips. “They’re wonderful. Really helped me find my footing when I opened the shop.”
It was how she said that. I’d assumed she was an Ogg’s Point staple like The Great Martin, particularly being featured at the local Inn, but maybe not.
“How long have you had your shop?” I asked.
“Just under a year.”
Her products were amazing, so I wasn’t surprised she’d come so far so fast. “I’m from Boston. You might want to think about opening a place down there because your products are just that good,” I suggested.
A strange look swept her face, pain if I had to guess. Before I could ask if she was all right, she was ringing up my order. She didn’t talk until she gave me the total. Her hand shook a bit when she took my money. When she finally looked at me again, there was sadness in her hazel eyes. Why? The offer escaped my lips before I knew I intended to make it.
“Well, I’m new to town. Maybe you could show me around. Or we could grab a coffee and watch The Great Martin.”
Her eyes lit up then. “He’s wonderful, isn’t he?”
I understood because he really was. It seemed his only purpose was to make people happy. “Yes. I’d love to know his story.”
It was like we suddenly shared a secret. “Oh, me too. Yeah, that would be fun.” She reached for her card. “My number is on here.”
Taking another, I jotted down my cell and name for her. She studied the card for a second and when her gaze returned to me there was something else burning there. Loneliness if I had to guess. “I’d really like to get together,” she said softly.
“Great, because so would I.”
Excitedly she said, “I’ll call you.”
I couldn’t help wonder what her story was because she definitely had one. “I look forward to it, Kinsley.” And I really was.
I heard her greet the next customer. The bell rang over the door as I exited. I was settling in, making a home for myself.
Heading down the street, the weight of my bag causing some pleasant aches in my body thinking about Rut and me using the goodies I’d just bought. Distracted with images of him naked and wet, I didn’t at first sense someone watching me, but with the other weird things happening at the house, I picked up the pace until I heard.
“Hey, wait up.” My head snapped around to see Oggs hurrying over to me. I couldn’t help the sigh of relief. He eyed me when he reached me, tilted his head before he asked, “Are you okay?”
I was now. “Yeah.” I took a deep breath and worked to slow my heart. “How are you, Oggs?”
“I’m good. Better seeing you. How are you?”
“I’m great. Busy with the house and loving every second.”
He had no response, just studied me for a second or two before he asked, “I don’t mean to be nosy but it is a small town. Rumors have it that you and Rutledge are an item.”
Coming from Boston, I wasn’t used to the small town mentality, but I wasn’t surprised to hear we were the talk of it, the newcomer and one of their own who had returned after so long an absence. I opened my mouth to answer him, but it was the intensity of his focus that caused a chill to move through me. Like a switch, his expression changed, that easy friendliness he had about him returning.
“I’m sorry. It’s not my business.” He glanced down at my bag before he added. “I won’t keep you from your shopping.”
He didn’t wait for me to reply, walking away as quickly as he’d approached. That was odd. I felt eyes on me again and turned my head to see The Great Martin looking in my direction. His eyes shifted, tracking Oggs before coming back to me. I couldn’t discern what he was thinking, but I didn’t get to ponder it because he started singing and did such a good job of channeling Danny Zuko that I stayed and listened to most of his show.