seven
peyton
When I mentioned last night my wish to explore, I had meant Ogg’s Point, but Mr. Raines had other plans. He arrived for me at noon, but instead of going into town, he drove right out of it. I suppose I should have been a little freaked out, especially after the scene yesterday with his father. I didn’t know Mr. Raines, but it wasn’t nerves I felt when we passed the Come Again sign. Had I a father like his, I’d want to avoid town too. Although his comment to whoever he called after the scene yesterday about crossing state lines, not really sure what that meant.
We crossed the state border and into New Hampshire, to a town called Heron Creek. If at all possible, it was even smaller than Ogg’s Point. Charming Victorian storefronts, all done in pastel colors. Banners ran across the two lane Main Street announcing the Fall Festival.
Mr. Raines parallel parked, cutting the engine and climbing from the truck.
“I used to come here a lot with my grandmother as a kid. She loved this little town and the shops.” He looked around the area, taking it all in as if it was the first time he was seeing it. He shook off the memories and continued, “But there are a few homes similar to my grandmother’s. Thought it would be good for you to see the potential her place could have.”
I studied him for a second because what an unexpected gesture. “I can’t wait to see them, thank you. I have to be honest, I already see the potential. Enough that I bought the place sight unseen. And yesterday...it didn’t discourage me from wanting your house.”
At the reference to yesterday, his body went tense from his shoulders to his hands that fisted at his sides. I was quick to add, “I’m not hedging to talk about it. It’s not my place, but I am sorry he put you in that position. Like you said, you can’t pick your family.”
He said nothing but gestured with his hand for me to go ahead of him down the street. We walked in silence for a bit; I took in some of the stores, understanding his grandmother’s interest because I knew I’d be coming back for a shopping day. It wasn’t the town or the houses preoccupying my thoughts though. It was the man at my side. Funny how wrong first impressions could be. He was arrogant, I wasn’t wrong about that, but then there was the man who gave me the walk through, the man who had to deal with a father like the one he had, the glimpses of a man not burdened by the ugly, peeks at the man his grandmother raised; a begrudgingly charming man. I couldn’t lie; he made my pulse race and my blood heat just being around him.
We reached the first house, which was right off Main Street. Smaller than his grandmother’s, but he was right, very similar. The gardens were exquisite, the widow’s walk just beckoning you to stroll around it. Glancing over, his focus was on the house. I wondered what he was thinking. I barely knew him, but there was no denying, when remembering his grandmother he was content, unlike the horrible scene with his father that I couldn’t get out of my head. What a vile person. And not just showing up drunk, but nasty and provoking. It was his only purpose yesterday, to rile up his son. How often did Mr. Raines have to put up with that? And the fact that he handled it and didn’t give in and punch the man in the face, something I actually felt my own hands itching to do, spoke volumes about his character.
We continued down the street onto the next property, but he stopped, looked at me with scrunched brows and said, “There was something I had to tell you, but damn, I forgot.”
I blamed the attraction that was even now still zipping through my body in flashes of heat, but I imagined what he had to tell me was he needed my taste on his tongue or he’d die, like that man at the market. A secret smile touched my lips because those words would probably never leave his mouth, and still, to hear them, that heat racing through me moved south. The words were hard getting past the lump of lust lodged in my throat. “Well, maybe it will come to you after spending more time with my charming, witty self.”
He chuckled again and looked me over. Tingles followed. “Maybe, but you know, my elderly self and shit, my mind must be going.” His lips tipped up slightly after that teasing comment, mine may have turned down because I almost licked my lips in anticipation. My focus was on his mouth because now I really wanted his taste on my tongue. His next question caught me off guard. “How old are you?”
“How old am I?” Talk about a buzzkill. “Some women would have a cow with you asking that. Thirty-two.”
“Well.” He gestured with his hand to keep walking as he continued, “I can tell you’re not like other women.” He smiled down at me. “Thirty-two,” he muttered then offered, “I’m thirty-seven.”
He could tell I wasn’t like other women. I liked that. Thirty-seven. I eyed him from head to toe. The man was walking sin, and I suspected he’d only improve with age. Realizing I was ogling him while he watched me, I quickly teased, “Thirty-seven, I understand your concern about memory loss.”
“Exactly.” He nodded with a grin.
The second house, it wasn’t the house, but the sitting area overlooking the water that I fell in love with. A pergola with wild roses growing along it. A place like that at the house, somewhere I could sit and watch a storm on the water. “I want that,” I said absently. “The council would probably never allow it, but I’d fight for that. Can you imagine watching a storm rolling in, feeling the change in the air, smelling the storm?”
I glanced over at Mr. Raines, his focus was on me. “Not gonna lie, there’s a lot that needs to happen at the house. You’re gonna be taking a substantial hit to your finances to get it livable. For that...” He gestured to the sitting area. “You need to get an idea of cost to see if you can swing it.” He reached for his phone and put it to his ear. “Herb, you need to get a hold of a structural engineering firm.”
I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t help it. I had only made a comment, and he was pulling out his phone to make it happen. Sure, I was a potential buyer but warmth of a different kind moved through me thinking about how he was with the woman or women in his life. Taking care of them, protecting them, and doing so in that way that was uniquely Mr. Raines. I looked away, the thought took me by surprise, but I wanted to know how that felt. To be his.
I was noticing a pattern with Mr. Raines. When he wanted a subject dropped, he just dropped it as evident in his phone etiquette. He didn’t even say goodbye, disconnecting after getting his answer. It kind of put a new light on his hanging up on me and him not answering my last text from last night.
“Rutledge Raines, is that you?” a man’s voice behind us called out.
Rutledge. Yeah, he was so totally a Rutledge, but it was his reaction that caught my attention because he actually braced. Thinking about the visit from his father, I suppose I could understand. Slowly, he turned and whoever he was expecting clearly wasn’t the elderly man approaching us because as quickly as he tensed, he relaxed. It could even be called a smile that curved up his lips. He then addressed the man, and my eyes widened at the same time my heart rolled because it was another little glimpse.
“Mr. Melton.” His tone almost as exactly as the man’s had been to him. Clearly, they didn’t just know each other; they liked each other.
Mr. Melton approached, his focus turned to me, a smile on his lips before he extended his hand to Rutledge. That smile turned into a grin before he asked, “How the hell are you?”
“Doing good,” Rutledge said. Letting go of the man’s hand, he continued, “Looks like you’re doing pretty good yourself.”
“Yeah.” Mr. Melton looked himself over. “Not too bad, kid. Got my daughter running the coffee shop now.” He chuckled then added, “Now I sit there, drink my coffee, read the paper, and gossip.”
Rutledge chuckled with the old man then turned to me and introduced us. “Mr. Melton, this is Peyton Morgan, she’s gonna be buying my grandmother’s house in Ogg’s Point.”
“Hi, Mr. Melton. It’s nice to meet you.”
He took my hand gently. “It’s lovely to meet you, young lady.” Then his eyes drifted off as he let my hand go and muttered, “Ah, Mary Raines, what a wonderful woman.”
Rutledge chuckled at the comment. It wasn’t hard to see that Mr. Melton had once had a crush on Rutledge’s grandmother.
I supposed it was a guy thing, but as quickly as the conversation started, it was over. He dropped a hand on Rutledge’s shoulder. “It was great seeing you, kid. Don’t be a stranger.” His focus shifted to me. “And you, Miss Morgan. Good luck with the house.”
“Nice meeting you. And thank you.”
He was already heading down the street, and Rutledge was gesturing me in the other direction. I was still thinking about the actual conversation though and spoke out loud what I was thinking. “He had a crush on your grandmother.”
“He did, and I think she had a crush on him too,” he told me then stated, “I think that’s why we came to this town.” He paused and smiled. “A lot.”
There was that contentment again. I might even call it peace. My heart ached for him, but I was happy he had her. My voice was soft when I said, “Sounds like good memories. I would have liked to have known her. She sounds like she had a fascinating life.”
He looked off into the distance, clearly caught up in his past, when he mumbled, “She sure did.”
I wondered how he felt about selling her home. Now wasn’t the time to ask, even though I really wanted to, although not to hear the answer but to keep that look on his face. Instead, I changed the subject when I said, “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, I could definitely eat.” He gave me a side smile that caused a warmth to run down my body and land between my legs. Before I could answer, he added, “There’s a great pizza place in Ogg’s Point. You up for it?”
My voice was a little hoarse when I replied, “You had me at pizza.”
He chuckled, “I’m sure I did.” That smirk came back before he went on, “How about we check that house out at the end of the block.” He pointed down a side street. “It’s the closest resemblance to my grandmother’s. Then I’ll drop you off at the Inn, you can do some girly shit, and I’ll pick you up around six, yeah?”
There was that Rutledge version of charm. I answered with a grin. “Sounds like a plan.”