Naughty Stranger

by Stacey Kennedy

  Seeing those tears, feeling the emotion in her words, he gathered her in his arms and held her tight. And he knew then, with the rain hammering the roof, and in the quiet of the night, that the small step forward he’d wanted, he got.

  Chapter 8

  The next day, Peyton closed up shop after the last customer left at ten minutes after five o’clock. The evening was cloudy and kind of miserable, but nothing was going to ruin her good mood today. Out in her car, she grabbed her phone from her purse and fired off a text to Boone.

  Can you sneak away for a couple hours for dinner?

  Sure, she was rebelling against her “no dates” rule, but she suddenly didn’t want to fight against wanting to see him.

  His reply came instantly.

  Yes. Meet at Kinsley’s?

  How about your place at eight?

  Looking forward to it.

  She smiled and almost tossed her phone onto the passenger seat, when another text came in. One from Justin.

  I’m taking the red-eye to Boston tonight. Can we meet for dinner before I go?

  Damn. She replied:

  I actually have dinner plans already. Can I meet you for a drink at Whiskey Blues at 6:30?

  That works. See you then.

  With her night planned, she placed her phone back in her purse, then hit the road to drive the fifteen minutes across town to visit the larger grocery store. All day her mind had been on Boone and their night together in the greenhouse, and tonight she wanted to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. Of course, she knew she liked Boone. She’d known that for the past month. But she didn’t know, or maybe ignored, that she’d been growing more attached. Something last night changed. She felt the shift in his touch and in her welcoming that softer touch back. She sensed herself free-falling into the safe place where Boone offered to catch her. Truth was, she wanted Boone. All the time. She shared her thoughts with him, feeling safe enough to do so. Hell, he made her nights hot and easily made her burn. Most of all, he made her smile.

  The craziest, maybe scariest part of all, she wasn’t feeling so guilty anymore. Which was both confusing and thrilling. It’s only been a year. A year since she no longer woke up to Adam’s smile. A year since her days looked normal. A year since she told a man “I love you.” And yet she wanted Boone. He was patient and understanding and kind and he let her—for the most part—set the pace of their relationship. He listened when she needed him to, and everything he said seemed genuine and honest. He kissed her like he meant it. He touched her like he couldn’t get enough. Boone was exactly the man she’d once wished for when she wrote in her diary as a teenage girl.

  And she felt…lucky. A far cry from what she felt a year ago.

  The clock on her dashboard read 5:20 p.m. when she turned onto the long and straight road, hugged by mature trees for as far as the eye could see. She drove a few miles, the soft rock playing on the radio, when she caught a black SUV following closely in her rearview mirror. “Get any closer, buddy?” she muttered, tapping the brakes lightly.

  The SUV backed off.

  “Yeah, that’s right, jerk.” Focusing back on the road, she took in the abundance of green from the grass and trees mixed with the large rock formations along the road. The warm breeze on her face brought the scents of summer and blooming flowers.

  The road took a sharp left turn leading up the summit with the guardrail on the side of the cliff. Every time, Peyton said a little prayer when she drove by the spots where the guardrail stopped, and mature trees filled up the space. Right as she took the next curve, she noticed the SUV behind her again. The dark front window showed her only a silhouette of someone behind the wheel. That same cold flush crept over her and her heart raced as she pressed her foot against the gas pedal, punching it forward to get away.

  First, she was being watched. Now she was being followed.

  Get it together, girl!

  Maybe she needed some more therapy. She’d heard once that traumatic events could send the mind spiraling. Perhaps all this death was sending her into a panic episode. She considered the thought seriously when the phone rang through her Bluetooth, cutting off the music playing on her radio. She hit the answer button on her steering wheel. “Hello.”

  “Remy got engaged last night,” Kinsley exclaimed.

  Peyton nearly exclaimed herself, glad for the interruption to get her mind off questioning her sanity. “I can’t tell if you’re happy about this news or not,” Peyton admitted.

  “Not,” Kinsley practically growled. “Totally not! I hate Damon.” Kinsley said his name like he once gave her an STI.

  Peyton glanced out her side window, her gaze skimming the islands out in the Atlantic Ocean. “Have you said that to Remy?”

  “I mean, she knows I don’t like him,” Kinsley said with a sigh, her voice softening. “I don’t want to ruin her happiness, but at the same time, Damon is a creep.”

  Peyton slowed and made a right turn. “Well, maybe that’s something you need to tell her.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure, how does this sound: ‘Hey, Remy, your fiancé is fucking creepy. I know you think you love him, but you really don’t. Marrying him is the biggest mistake of your life. You’re meant to be with Asher, the guy who broke your heart into a thousand pieces.’”

  Peyton chuckled softly. “I see your point.” She settled her hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. “Was their breakup bad?” She’d only learned the little bit from Boone, and Remy never talked about it.

  “The breakup destroyed Remy,” Kinsley explained. “Everything changed after that.”

  “With Remy, you mean?”

  “Yeah, and it’s like she’s taking second best now. It’s almost as if she forgets what real love is like and is with this guy thinking it’s love. But Damon isn’t love, he’s a total sleazeball.” Kinsley hesitated. Then her voice tightened. “And all of this didn’t matter because she was only dating Damon. But marrying him? I don’t know, it’s like he’s not genuine or something.”

  Peyton noticed the SUV nudging closer again. She glared at the person behind the wheel through her rearview mirror, even if he or she couldn’t see her. Peyton took her foot off the gas, slowly coming closer to the semitruck ahead of her. “What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do without hurting her feelings? I’ve already told Remy that something seems iffy about Damon, but she totally brushed me off. And now that they’re engaged, what else can I do but be happy for her? This is her life. I need to love and support her.”

  Peyton winced. “It’s a tough situation for sure.”

  “It just sucks,” Kinsley said firmly after a long sigh. “I wish you knew Remy when she was with Asher. Then you’d see what I mean. It’s like she’s settling for this guy because the guy her heart wants, she can’t have.”

  Peyton was new to this group of people, but she’d never heard anyone mention another woman. “Is Asher with someone else now?”

  “Nope,” Kinsley confirmed. “But Remy and Asher have this whole twisted love thing going. They love hard. They hurt each other hard. It’s just…”

  “Complicated,” Peyton offered.

  “Yeah, complicated is a good way to describe them.” Another pause, then Kinsley added softly, “You’re good with all this kind of stuff, so tell me what to do.”

  Peyton had no idea what gave Kinsley that impression. She worried that maybe Kinsley thought she had more life experience or something. Little did she know that Peyton, for a long time, was an epic mess herself. But after thinking about it, she realized she did understand Remy’s situation a little. She knew how it felt to be so broken that it hurt to even breathe.

  “The thing is,” Peyton finally said, “you can’t live her life for her. You gotta let her do ‘her’ in her own way and hope in the end she’ll be all right. Maybe there’s a side to Damon that you don’t see but she does.”

  “Damn it, I should have called Rhett,” Kinsley grumbled.

  Peyton laughed. “Why?�
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  “Because he’s not as nice as you and would have told me to lock her in a room until she got Damon out of her head, which is totally what I want to do right now.”

  “Well, if all else fails, maybe you can grab Remy’s tarot cards and get her to use those about the wedding. Maybe she’ll see something that tells her to call the wedding off.”

  “Not the worst idea,” Kinsley said with a long sigh. “Okay, I know I’m being a tad protective here, but I’m telling you, there is something wrong with this guy.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Peyton agreed, her gaze returning to her rearview mirror again. “He gives off a weird vibe, for sure.” The SUV got closer, and she snapped now, “I’ve got this prick that’s been riding my ass since I left town.”

  “Pull over and let him pass.”

  “Yeah, probably a good idea.” Peyton took her foot off the gas and slowed, when a black blur sped past Peyton’s window, then the SUV squeezed into the spot between her and the transport truck. She slammed on her brakes to avoid hitting him. “Jesus!” she exclaimed.

  “What was that?” Kinsley gasped.

  “This asshole is driving like a madman—”

  Suddenly, the SUV hit the back of the transport truck, sending the truck fishtailing across the road. Dirt flew up around Peyton’s car, making the air nearly impossible to see through, until she realized the SUV was no longer ahead of her, and she was heading straight for the cab of the truck.

  Seconds felt like a lifetime, tires screeching all around her, the smell of burned rubber infusing the air. She vaguely heard Kinsley screaming her name, mixed with the screams coming from her own mouth. Peyton gripped the wheel, bracing for impact, and slammed on her brakes. The world spun around her; metal grinding against metal echoed in her ears as her car rammed into the side rail and spun back toward the truck.

  And all she could think was…Boone.

  * * *

  This morning, Boone woke in the best mood he’d felt in years, which quickly took a downward spiral since the Francis case was growing colder and colder by the second. None of the phone tips led anywhere, and instead of finding out anything, most of the Stoney Creek PD had been running in circles. The latest results of the fingerprints came back with nothing. They still had no suspect, not even a possible suspect.

  Before heading home to meet Peyton for dinner—the only bright spot in his day—Boone followed Rhett into Whiskey Blues, after hearing from some of his fellow cops that Asher was at the bar, not looking so good. Listening to the woman singing on stage with the velvet voice, Boone weaved his way through the packed club, heading toward the bar. Asher wasn’t the type to search out a friend when he needed one, and the hunch of Asher’s back told Boone he most definitely needed one.

  When Boone finally slid onto the stool next to Asher, the scent in the air was a mix of whiskey and oak and was goddamn delightful. “Tough day?” Boone asked him.

  Asher glanced sideways, nodded, then took his shot of whiskey.

  While Rhett and Boone had been focused on solving the Francis case, Asher had been working the other case Boone’s father had given him. Boone hadn’t known anything about the case, but the hard silence settling over Asher meant something bad happened on the job. Sometimes they talked about the shit they saw and dealt with. Most times they didn’t.

  Boone gave a short whistle and held up two fingers. Remy caught his eye and nodded. Seeing the distress in his friend, Boone held off congratulating Remy at the moment of her engagement that Kinsley told him about an hour ago on the phone, needing to check in on Asher first. While Boone suspected Asher had a bad case, considering he usually secluded himself when anything hit close to his heart, Boone needed to be sure. The last thing Asher needed was to hear that the love of his life was engaged with her standing there watching him.

  Remy soon sidled up in front of them, delivering beers to Rhett and Boone, then settled another shot and set it in front of Asher.

  “Thanks,” Asher said, not looking up.

  Remy’s eyes saddened. “Last one,” she told Asher. “That’s the rule.”

  “Got it,” Asher muttered, then tossed the shot back.

  Every first responder had a rule when it came to how they dealt with bad cases. Boone refused to drink, knowing he couldn’t drown what he felt in booze. Asher allowed two shots to numb himself, but growing up around an alcoholic father, he had a limit. And Rhett…well, Rhett did whatever the hell he wanted.

  Boone grabbed his beer and tilted the bottle at Remy. “Thanks.”

  She smiled, gave Asher another concerned look, and then strode away toward a customer at the end of the bar.

  Yeah, Boone was concerned too, but probably not for the reasons Remy was. He chugged a good bit of his beer back, damn happy that he’d soon see Peyton. The soft music played behind him, a soothing sound he’d grown to enjoy this past year since his sister bought the club.

  With Rhett on his left, already talking to the pretty blond next to him, Boone lowered his bottle to the bar and asked Asher, “Is this about the case or the news about Remy?”

  Asher glanced sideways, eyebrows drawn over his hardened eyes. “What news?”

  Boone gestured at Remy. “She’s engaged.”

  Asher went still. “Remy?”

  “Yeah.” Boone nodded.

  Asher glanced Remy’s way and muttered “Fuck” when he obviously spotted the new sparkly diamond on her finger. “Damn, I didn’t even notice the ring. When did this happen?”

  “I guess last night. Kinsley called me about an hour ago.” Boone had been friends long enough with Asher to know that the only thing he regretted in his life was leaving Remy. Boone always thought they could mend what had been broken between them.

  They obviously didn’t agree.

  “At least one of us is becoming an adult,” Rhett commented beside Boone, apparently done with the blond for now.

  Asher snorted, though the tightness in his eyes said he knew Rhett was right.

  Boone thought Asher could use a dose of Rhett’s honesty. Hell, Boone probably could too. No one, including Kinsley or the guys next to him, had a real sense of urgency to get married or have kids. Boone, though, knew his reasons to get married again were probably more fucked up than anyone else’s.

  He’d already given marriage a shot and failed miserably. Which, of course, made this thing with Peyton screw with his head a little. He wanted her. He loved being with her. And he certainly didn’t want to hurt her. But could he give her a life where maybe one day he’d marry her?

  Before, he would have said no. Now, he didn’t know anymore.

  Asher’s deep exhale broke into Boone’s thoughts. He turned to Boone again, his gaze even more haunted now. “She’s happy, though?”

  Boone shrugged. “From what I’ve seen, she seems happy, but Kinsley hates the guy, and I’m not particularly a fan of him either.”

  Rhett scoffed against the rim of his beer bottle. “I’ve never known Kinsley to hate anyone.”

  Boone nodded in agreement. These guys knew Kinsley as well as Boone did. They’d grown up with her, watching over her when Boone wasn’t around, even if his sister didn’t need them to. Kinsley was sass and fire, but she tended to have a big heart toward people unless there was a good reason not to.

  “Well, I hope he deserves her” was Asher’s reply.

  Boone frowned, his gaze settling on the girl he viewed as a second sister across the bar. “Remy’s a smart girl. Even with Kinsley’s worries, I’m sure Remy knows what she’s doing.”

  Asher nodded, mouth pinched in a firm line. He rose a moment later, giving Remy a long look. “I better get out of here,” he said, turning back to Boone and Rhett. “See you tomorrow.”

  Boone nodded his goodbye, and waited for Asher to leave through the front door before asking Rhett, “Think we should worry?” Boone had seen Asher fall off the deep end twice. Once when his mother died. The second time when he broke Remy’s heart.


  Rhett paused to consider. He finally shrugged. “He left instead of drinking himself stupid. I’d say he’s good.”

  Boone took a sip of his beer as Remy returned. “Is Asher okay?” she asked, worry shining in her eyes.

  “He’s fine.” Boone offered her a gentle smile, hoping it reassured her. “Tough case is all.”

  Remy glanced toward the door with longing in her eyes. Boone wasn’t any expert in love, but he never understood why Remy and Asher couldn’t figure their shit out. They both looked miserable without each other. “So, I hear congratulations are due.”

  Her gaze flicked back to Boone and she gave him a soft smile. “Thanks.”

  Rhett inclined his head. “He’s a very lucky man.”

  Remy froze statue-still and side-eyed Rhett. “When did you start saying sweet things? Is this a new side of Rhett West I should know about?”

  “Nope,” Rhett replied gruffly, reaching for his beer. “I heard the line in a movie once and figured it worked here.”

  Boone barked a laugh, knowing she was right—sweet typically wasn’t in Rhett’s demeanor. “You’ll let us know if there’s anything we can help you with,” he said to Remy. She didn’t have any family left after the grandma who raised her passed away, leaving her with a hefty inheritance she’d receive once she married but a loneliness that Boone saw in her eyes sometimes.

  “Thanks, but I’m good,” Remy finally answered. “We’re keeping the wedding small.” She grabbed Asher’s shot glass, placing it beneath the bar. “So small that I’m thinking of having the ceremony in a month or so.”

  “That’s fast, isn’t it?” Rhett asked.

  “A little bit.” Remy nodded, wiping up a spill on the bar. “But Damon’s excited.”

  Boone felt his stomach tighten, the iciness rolling over his spine with his instincts calling this a red flag. He glanced at Rhett, who was watching Remy carefully. And that reaction was why Damon always rubbed Boone wrong. Everyone was suspicious of him. And why was that exactly?

  “Could you—”