When Boone slowed the bike, he pulled next to a small cabin on the side of the road. The building was painted in bright colors and covered in lobster traps with a sign on the front that read OLD MARINA.
In a few minutes, they were seated at the picnic table near the boat dock. Boone ordered enough lobster to feed a small family. Peyton opted for fried shrimp and French fries. “Any news on the case?” she asked Boone, squeezing some ketchup onto the waxed paper covering her plastic tray.
Boone dipped his lobster into butter and devoured the bite. “We’re still sifting through evidence.”
She nibbled a fry. “I guess you really can’t talk about it anyway, right?”
He leveled her with those warm eyes. “Not specifics, no.” He dropped his head over his plate, eating his lobster like he hadn’t eaten in days. Which, she guessed, made sense. He’d need an appetite like that to maintain his hot bod.
Silence settled over them. A comfortable silence while she ate another shrimp, a warm feeling spilling over her. It’d been a long time since she’d been with a man like this, eating dinner and shooting the shit. She liked how Boone didn’t bother with impressing her. He cracked the beer bottles before them and drank from the bottle, leaving the caps right there on the table, his paper napkin crumpled next to him.
Stoney Creek was a long way from the glitz and glam of Seattle. But there was something perfectly special about this place. About Boone. About how easy and natural this all felt with him.
It suddenly occurred to her that while she knew some things about him, the important things she’d learned from Kinsley. “How long have you been a detective?” she asked, curious about what made Boone Knight click.
“Seven years a detective, two of those here, but I worked as a beat cop in New York for five years when I was first starting out.”
“You moved to New York City and then moved back here, right?”
God, she was being obvious now. His grin said as much. “I’m guessing you want to know why.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’m a bit curious, yeah.”
Boone licked his thumb and in a single breath said, “My brother-in-law was involved in some insider trading. My reputation took a hit after he was arrested. And yeah, that’s also why my marriage ended.”
“I wasn’t going to ask about that,” she said softly, her heart reaching for him at his dark expression.
He took a swig of his beer. “Everything changed after the arrest. Cops…” Those warm eyes connected with her again, any trace of his pain washed from his expression—“Some—not all, of course—but some can be funny when it comes to family who commit a crime.”
“Well, they shouldn’t hold it against you. That’s stupid.”
“You’re right,” he agreed with a firm nod. “But some things cannot be forgiven.”
Peyton got the feeling there was more to the story, but who was she to press? The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her past. If she knew anything, it was that sometimes the best thing to do was let the past go and leave it behind. “Do you still talk to Chelsea?” she asked gently.
“She doesn’t want to speak.” He gave her a slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That seems to be a trend with the women in my life.”
“Women?” she repeated. “Were you married more than once?”
His brows winged up, obvious surprise glistening in his eyes. “Did Kinsley not tell you about our mother?”
“I thought she passed away, since Kinsley never mentioned her.”
Boone reached for his napkin, wiping the butter from his fingers. “My mother left us when I was five and Kinsley was three.”
“Left you?”
Boone nodded.
Peyton paused, her heart suddenly in her throat. “How could a mother do that?”
Boone dipped his lobster in the butter, then tossed the piece into his mouth. “Easy. She got herself a new husband and new kids out in California.” He seemed to try to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but Peyton heard the pain there. “She divorced my dad, drained their bank accounts, and left.”
“That’s really awful, Boone. I’m so sorry,” Peyton said, ignoring her food for now. She reached for his arm, squeezing tight.
Boone’s eyes warmed. “Thank you. It couldn’t have been an easy time for my father.”
“I bet not,” she agreed, then a question rose. She removed her hand to grab a shrimp, and before she took a bite, she said, “Why didn’t he go after her for the money she took?”
Boone swatted at the seagull that landed on the bench next to him, obviously looking for its next meal. “My mother didn’t love him. Or want us. I guess he could have gone after her for the money, but my father didn’t, for reasons I’m sure are important to him.”
Peyton couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for your dad.”
Boone nodded, a softness reaching his eyes. “We moved in with my grandparents, and with their help, life was easier for him, and he did a good job with us.”
Peyton considered that. “Your father’s a good man.”
“There is no one better, believe me.” Boone said, “We hear from our mother on our birthdays and Christmases, but that’s more out of her guilt than anything else.”
Peyton mulled this over, coming to the same conclusion as before. “I just don’t get how a mother could do that.”
“She didn’t want to live in a small town. My father wouldn’t move to the big city. She was miserable here.” Boone used the napkin to clean off his face before reaching for his beer. “I hated her for that for a long time. Had trouble with it as a kid. But much, much later I realized that she was better gone. What we had as a family was perfect. Dad, Kinsley, and I, and our grandparents. We didn’t need her.”
“It’s good you had them.” Peyton smiled, thinking all this through, when something occurred to her. She parted her lips and promptly shut them.
“Don’t hold back now.” His mouth twitched. “What do you want to know?”
She shrugged and laughed softly at him. “Your cop instincts about being able to read people could become really annoying.”
He chuckled. “Probably.” His smile slipped away. “But ask anyway.”
She felt like asking him anything would make her due to answer questions she didn’t want to answer, but curiosity got the better of her. “Did you move to New York to try to make Chelsea happy because of what happened with your mother?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Who’s got the good instincts now?”
She laughed.
He took a moment to consider the question, staring off at the water on the other side of the road, then said, “I guess in some way I probably did that. It hadn’t been a thought back then, but I think there was some part of me that hoped we’d move out to the city and Chelsea would get her fix and then we’d come home, but that never happened. She never came back to Stoney Creek.”
The darkness settled over his expression again. One that said his past was a painful spot that stained his life. That Peyton understood, wholeheartedly. “Life’s funny that way, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s never how you think it will be or turns out how you hope. Life’s got this way of sneaking up on you and throwing surprises at every turn.”
Boone nodded, staring at her intently. “Some good. Some bad.”
“And some life-changing.”
The air changed between them then, like a current of electricity ran through the space between him and her. “But you know want I really think?” she asked him.
His eyebrow lifted. “What’s that?”
“That we’re a lot more alike than I originally thought.”
“Because we have pasts?”
She nodded, drawn into the warm way he looked at her. “That, and maybe we’re both very good at helping each other overcome our pasts.”
The side of his mouth curved and he raised his beer. “That we are.”
She clanged
her bottle with his, took a sip, and then glanced behind her at the tide slowly pulling away. She hadn’t realized it until now, but Boone was the mirror image of who she’d hoped to be after Adam passed away.
He had a past. An obviously painful one. He also survived it.
But he even took it a step further: He shared his past with no shame of his weaknesses or concern his heart would break.
Maybe it was time for her to do the same.
* * *
On the way back into town, the clouds darkened ahead, and Boone decelerated the bike, the engine humming beneath him. He took the turn slow and easy, when a drop of rain hit his forearm. And then another. Before long, the skies opened and rain poured down, nearly blinding the view ahead of him. Peyton’s arms tightened around his waist, and while that he didn’t mind one bit, he slowed the motorcycle against the slick roads ahead. He knew the area well and drove another minute before turning left into a thin driveway leading to a greenhouse. She all but leaped off the motorcycle and ran for greenhouse’s door, waiting for him under the metal awning.
“Let’s get out of the rain,” he called, grabbing her hand.
Soaked from head to toe, she laughed, holding on to his arm, staying close as he opened the door.
The leafy scents of the ivy, only made richer by the rain, infused the air when they finally made it inside. Boone reached into his pocket, grabbing his cell, thankful the rain hadn’t gotten to it. After he turned on the flashlight app, he scanned the small area. The place had changed in the year since he’d been there last. Many of the windowpanes were broken. Empty pots littered the tables and the floor, and more ivy than he remembered stretched up inside the greenhouse. The rain hammered the glass roof above them, falling into the missing panes and hitting the dirt floor below.
“What is this place?” Peyton asked, turning around in a circle.
He placed his phone on the table closest to them, lighting up a small area around them, beneath the large heat light with the smashed bulb. “Years back, the greenhouse was part of an organic farm run by Kevin Messer. When he passed away, his family sold the land back to the town.” Which was why the old greenhouse remained standing. It wasn’t prime real estate, wasn’t near the national park or the coastline, so the land wasn’t worth much, and the town hadn’t developed or demolished the property.
“I take it his family isn’t from around here?” she asked, wringing out her hair, sending a line of water dripping down her arm.
Boone’s gaze followed the trail of water and he felt a sudden urge to trace that line with his tongue. Every day she looked good. But wet, a little messy…his cock hardened. “From what I heard, his family lives out west, I believe. About a year ago, a bunch of high school kids turned this place into a small-time marijuana-growing operation.”
“Seriously?” she asked, stepping closer.
His jaw clenched and unclenched at the way her soaked clothes clung to her breasts. He nodded, not sure he’d get words out.
She cocked her head, sending the strands of her damp hair around her soft cheek. “How much trouble did they get into?”
Forcing himself to look into her eyes again, he ran his hands through his hair, shaking out the excess water. “Enough trouble. They likely got it worse from their parents than they did from the police department, but their operation was shut down.”
“Crazy.” She reached up, wrapping her hair in a way that stayed up without a tie. Neat trick, but he was more focused on the way her shirt rode up, and the slight ribbon of belly he saw. When he glanced back into her eyes, she smiled. “See something you like?”
“Yes.” Her gaze held his, the emotional rawness and vulnerability yanking at him to bring her close. When she lowered her arms, her shirt fell and stuck, detailing all her beautiful curves, filling his groin with need. Something she clearly recognized. Her breath caught, and when he lifted his eyes to her face, her heated gaze locked on to him.
“See something you want?” she rasped.
“Hell yes.” Stepping forward, he let the silence stretch out between them, the heat of anticipation build. “Leave this down,” he told her, tucking his fingers into her hair and letting the damp strands fall. Her lips parted when his fingers trailed over her cheeks. “Yeah, like that. Beautiful.”
Her breathing quickened and heat rose in her cheeks. “You buttering me up?” She grinned, stepping into him, her hands running up his biceps.
“Just telling it like it is.” He dropped his lips to hers and her kiss brought out a hunger so deep he reached for her shirt, taking it over her head a second later. She grabbed his T-shirt and he helped her lift it over his head. Her pants and panties followed, as did the rest of his clothing. He kissed her neck while he unhooked her bra. He gently dragged the straps away, loving how the lace felt against his fingers. And then he threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her like she deserved. Hard. Passionate. Intense.
Only when she moaned against his mouth, hot and ready for more, did he lean away and lay his T-shirt back onto the table before hoisting her onto the edge. When he stepped back, he stroked himself, groaning at the sight before him. Christ, her stunning curves filled his vision. Her legs were crossed, modestly shielding herself. “Let me see you,” he told her, wanting to play this game.
A shy smiled crossed her lips as she spread her legs. He stopped stroking himself in fear that if he didn’t, this would be over before it even got started. He bent for his pants, taking a condom from his wallet and applying it, never once taking his eyes off of her. Not because he couldn’t, but because he didn’t want to. Every moment seemed sweeter than the one before it.
“Look at you there,” he murmured. “So goddamn beautiful.”
She tilted her head, her hair trailing over her bare flesh, but softness in her eyes held his focus. “Boone,” she whispered, a sound of pure need and sweet affection.
He became locked in. This woman was extraordinary, and he wasn’t entirely sure exactly what made her so. The way she moved, the soul shining in her eyes, the way she carried herself; there was layer after layer of specialness inside her.
He finished rolling the condom onto his hardened length and she nibbled her bottom lip while she watched him. Wanting a taste of those lips himself, he returned to her, stepping between her thighs, and sealed his mouth across hers. She kissed him back, hotter this time. He threaded his fingers into her damp hair, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. And damn did he want to make her moan.
Christ, touching her was everything. Hearing her pleasure gave him purpose and sweet satisfaction. Making her smile felt so damn right. Boone always wondered if any woman would get him sticking around longer than a night. Apparently, he found her. This woman. She made him want to stay. He couldn’t seem to get quite enough of her, and when he had her, he only wanted more. And yet that didn’t even seem like enough. When she moaned against his mouth, eager and desperate, he entered her, and he knew she was a game changer.
“Boone,” she said again, her voice full of lust and something far more emotional.
Something that called to him and tugged straight at his chest. Something he wanted to keep all for himself. And something he certainly wanted to protect.
“I’m right here, beautiful,” he said, cupping her face. “I’ve got you.”
This may have been new, but it wasn’t only sex any longer, and he could tell she knew it too by how she clung to him, and how those eyes of hers gave him everything. Each kiss, every slow touch up her thigh until he squeezed her bottom while he rocked into her was something…more. He couldn’t keep his mouth off her, needing to taste every inch of her salty skin. Every time she moaned, he craved for her to moan louder.
He felt her legs tremble, knowing she needed more of him. He broke off the kiss to watch her. She gripped his forearms, leaning back a little, while he reached for her hips. Holding her tight, he gained force and speed, wanting to get them both where they needed to go. Together. Her breasts bouncing and her
mouth forming an O filled his vision. His cock hardened even further with the rising of her climax. Every thrust seemed to make her tighter and warmer, until he was all but cross-eyed, pumping into her, relishing in the way she squeezed him. Her throaty moans urged him faster. He dropped his head then and shut his eyes, basking in the heat rolling over him and settling in his groin. His muscles burned with the exertion. His groans echoed every sound of pleasure she gave.
And then she broke wide open, shuddering in his arms.
He followed on her heels. Pleasing her had been the best thing he’d ever done. The only thing he wanted to do from this night on. Heat rolled over him, blinding pleasure overcoming him, until his mind recovered.
When he lifted his head, breathless and sweaty, he found her glossy eyes watching him closely. “All right?” he asked, brushing his hand across her warm cheek.
“Just thinking.” She smiled softly.
When it came to this woman, that was either good or bad. Her expression revealed nothing. “About?”
“You.”
Wanting to keep things light, so she didn’t go back to her pain where being with him was hard because of her guilt, he smiled. “How gloriously good in bed I am, I hope?”
She didn’t laugh like he hoped. Her expression softened. “If I haven’t said it before, thank you. For being there. For…this.”
Christ, she was thanking him. His throat tightened. That loneliness, he’d been there. That lost feeling of not knowing where you belonged in the world anymore, yeah, he’d felt that too. He dropped his gaze to her eye level. “Don’t make me out to be a hero, Peyton. I’m getting something out of this too.”
She slid a hand across his cheek. “You are?”
I’m getting you. “I…feel with you. It’s a long time since that’s happened.”
Her eyes got teary as she placed her other hand on his cheek, then pressed her lips to his. “I feel something too,” she said softly, backing away to show a tear running down her cheek. “It’s been a long time since that’s happened.”
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