“No, it’s my night off. I’m at home.”
He’d never seen her at home. “What are you wearing?” And then he couldn’t believe he’d asked her that.
Was she going to hang up on him? And then he heard her sigh. “Elliot? Why? Why are you calling me now?”
“Did you tear up my check?” She didn’t sound very grateful, or like a woman who missed him.
“Of course not. That would be stupid.”
“So why haven’t you cashed it?”
“Don’t you get it? Because… that would make me… cheap.”
“Cashing a check for one hundred thousand dollars would make you feel cheap?” He asked incredulously, still not understanding her. Except he’d wanted to do something for her. He’d wanted to do something little that could make her life easier.
“Exactly. Elliot, I work hard. I make my own money and even though I don’t always pay everything on time, I, well, I – I’m proud that I’m taking care of things. I’m proud that I can take care of my sister, something my mom could never quite do.”
“But you still have it. Will you please just put it in an account somewhere, hang onto it for a rainy day?”
Silence.
“It’s in my jewelry box. If I need it, it’s there.”
At least there was that. But now that he had her on the phone, he didn’t want to let her go. “I miss you.”
He’d said it.
He barely knew her but that didn’t seem to matter.
Although they’d shared a lot that night, neither had mentioned anything about their feelings. Both of them had followed some modern code that if they hooked up neither would have any expectations… after.
And then he heard her sniff. At least he thought that was what it was. “Elliot.” She half cried when she said his name. “I can’t do this. I know this isn’t cool, and you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but, forgetting you… letting go of this… has been really hard. And I’m sorry if you’re bored, or feeling nostalgic right now, but I can’t do this. I just… can’t.”
And then the line was dead.
He thrummed his fingers on the table now. And then went back to his phone. This time, he hit message.
I’m not bored, he tapped in and then sent the text.
And I don’t think you’re crazy.
He waited.
Noel: I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.
He’d been mad at the time. But now, he understood.
He remembered how he’d felt in that room after she’d abandoned him. Was that how she felt when he left Colorado?
He glanced around his apartment. Black, lots of stainless steel, clean lines, tall endless windows.
I’m sorry I did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Noel tried forgetting about the call, and his cryptic text. What did he mean, he was sorry he did? And then nothing.
That had been yesterday. And now she was gonna have to try to forget him all over again. Damn him!
Damn him.
She nearly started sobbing as she stuffed the cash from her bank into the register drawer. Everywhere she looked invoked some memory of those two days she’d known him. And now she couldn’t even look at her phone without unsettling emotion washing over her again.
He was sorry he’d said goodbye?
What did that mean?
She slammed the drawer shut. She needed to get her act together. A few tourists were starting to drift into town for the warmer weather and the hotel was at seventy percent. She flipped the lights on and turned on the ubiquitous background music.
She was going to be okay.
If nothing else, Elliot had brought her to life again. Shown her how important human contact was. She should date again. Just because she spent so much time working didn’t mean she shouldn’t make an effort to get out a little, to have a few friends.
She peered closer at the glass she was polishing and, disgusted, rubbed away the lipstick marks. Even the scalding hot water in the dishwasher failed to get rid of these annoying prints. She’d rewash this one though, because, really, it was just… gross.
Always, always, these glasses needed polishing. She’d get as many in as she could before it got busy.
Which might be sooner than later. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow and turned around to address the guest she’d heard walk through the doors.
And then proceeded to drop the damn glass.
Again.
It fell onto the bottles in the well, bounced off the Jamison, and onto the floor.
It was Elliot.
What the…
As he approached the bar, his lips twitched for just a second before tilting into a smile. He didn’t stop at the bar.
Instead he walked around, stepped through the opening, and stopped in front of her.
He was here.
Elliot was here, behind the bar.
She ignored the glass and licked her lips. Her mouth had gone dry and a roaring filled her ears.
“Hey,” he said, suddenly not looking as confident as he had before. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“Hey,” she returned. He looked so good. Better even than she remembered. Was his sister back in town? “Um… do you want a drink?” But he shook his head.
“No. I wanted to ask you something.”
Why was he here? He wanted to ask her something? She hoped this wasn’t about that damn check.
“What?” She swallowed hard. Scared to death by the hope growing inside of her.
“Will you have dinner with me?” He tilted his head to one side and a lock of that black hair fell across one eye. “And maybe take me hiking?”
“How –” her voice wobbled a little. “How long are you here for?”
He grimaced a little. Was he embarrassed? “I’m not staying at the hotel.”
“You’re not?”
“I rented a condo. I kinda like this little town. It has a lot going for it.”
“Yes,” she sputtered. “And yes.” She couldn’t stop that joy that threatened to take over her entire being.
And then his hands were out of his pockets and he was stepping over broken glass to get to her. “God, I love that smile.” He wrapped his arms around her and she tucked her face into his shirt.
Best. Hug. Ever.
“I love how you smell.” The words escaped unheeded. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He tilted her chin back and searched her eyes. “I don’t know how this is gonna work out. But I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I couldn’t stop thinking we needed to give whatever this is some time.”
“And so, you’re here.” She touched the side of his face. It was rough as though it had been several hours since he’d shaved.
“I’m here.”
—The End—
PEYTON’S KISS
No one ever promised Stella Fairchild that life would be fair. If it was, then her best friend wouldn’t be dying. A little girl wouldn’t be losing her mother. And a lonely cowboy would be ready for love. Under the blue skies of Colorado, however, fate has its own ideas. And maybe, just maybe, silver linings could be found hiding in the storm.
DEDICATION
To those who have fought and won,
those who have fought and lost,
And everyone left behind.
PEYTON’S KISS
By Annabelle Anders
CHAPTER ONE
Stella swiped at her eyes for about the thousandth time. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Glancing over her shoulder, she hit her turn signal and changed lanes to pass. She’d told Corinne she’d arrive before dark. The drive from Denver, across the mountains to Elk Canyon, a tiny town on the western slope, shouldn’t take much more than seven hours.
She’d been on the road since nine this morning. She would have left last night, right after Corinne’s call, but her oldest and dearest friend insisted she wait until morning. “I want you here, but in one piece,” she’d told Stella.
They’d both cried more than once during that horrible conversation.
Corinne needed her. Stage four.
Stella had Googled it as soon as they ended the call. From what she discovered, Corinne’s prognosis didn’t sound good. She’d promised Stella she’d fight it tooth and nail but…
Stella sniffed loudly.
Why couldn’t it be her? Nobody depended on her whereas Corrine had a daughter to care for – to finish raising. Misty, Stella’s god-daughter, had just celebrated her fifth birthday. Only three weeks ago she’d called Stella to tell her all about her first day at school.
“Get in the right lane to exit the interstate in one mile.” Siri’s emotionless voice broke into Stella’s thoughts. According to the directions, she had another seventy-five miles to cover.
This side of Colorado could have been a different state. Mesas instead of mountains, high desert instead of plains. Stella had never visited Corinne and Misty at the ranch. She’d meant to, but her schedule hadn’t allowed it. “Next year,” she’d told Corinne again and again.
This time she hadn’t said no. This time she promised to stay as long as Corinne needed her. Stella fought back tears again. Please let her get better, please let her beat it.
They’d been best friends since freshmen year in college – and kept in touch ever since. Through Corinne’s marriage, Misty’s birth and then Corinne’s divorce. Stella could hardly believe nine years had already passed. It didn’t seem that long.
Passing through Grand Junction, the largest city on the western slope, Stella reluctantly dropped her speed. She passed a few strip malls, some gas stations, and a few liquor stores before crossing the Colorado River. Once the road smoothed into highway again, she accelerated impatiently.
Not that a few minutes would make any difference… but she needed to get there.
She hit a button on her steering wheel and said, “Call Corinne.” After arguing with her Bluetooth for a few minutes, the sound of her call going through radiated from the speakers.
“Hello.” It wasn’t Corinne. A deep rumbling voice answered. A man. Panic kicked in. Surely Corinne hadn’t gone into the hospital already?
“Hi. Um, this is Stella Fairchild. Is Corinne around?” Stella spoke louder than normal so the car microphone would pick up her voice. She hoped service wouldn’t drop during her call. Some of the directions Corinne gave her seemed pretty sketch.
“She took off somewhere with Misty. Forgot to take her phone again.” He sounded a little irritated, but in a worried way.
“Are you her brother? Peyton?” Stella had heard all kinds of good things about this saintly creature but never met the man. Apparently, he’d taken over the family ranch after their parents died, and all the responsibilities that came with it. Stella had always come away thinking the man sounded bossy though, and arrogant – telling Corinne how to live her life.
Except he’d been right about Corinne’s ex.
“I am.” He didn’t offer anything else. Surely Corinne mentioned her visit?
“Corinne told you, right? That I was coming to help?”
“You’re her friend, the social media chick from Denver, right?” Wow, he didn’t sound all that pleased – or welcoming. Stella decided to cut to the chase.
“How is she? I mean, really. She told me she’s okay but…” Stella trailed off.
His sigh echoed loudly over the speakers. She could practically feel it, what with the quality of her sound system.
“She’s lost a lot of weight. I told her she needed to go to the doctor three months ago.” And then he cut himself off. As though angry with himself for admitting as much.
His words confirmed Stella’s fears though. “Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with.”
She wanted to sound hopeful despite what her research had turned up. “I promised her I’d stay as long as she needed me.”
A guttural sound bit out of her speaker. Did he just grunt? Surely not. He couldn’t be that rude.
“Uh, Peyton? Mr. Parker?” She wondered if he’d been offended that she’d called him by his first name. She hoped he wasn’t going to be difficult. “Do you by chance have wireless out there?”
It may have seemed like a frivolous thing to ask, but Stella had responsibilities she’d need to take care of, clients who’d expect her to continue managing their accounts. She’d not considered that it might even be an issue until she’d started driving today.
She’d been caught up in the possibility of losing her best friend.
“Hello?” Did she lose the connection? “Mr. Parker? Are you there?”
“Miss Fairchild, I need to make something clear. If you think you’re in for some ranch-style vacation, you’ve got the wrong idea. Corinne is–” his voice broke momentarily. As cross as Stella wanted to be, the fear in his voice subdued her response.
“I’m not. I’m coming to help. It’s just that I’ll need access to some of my work.” Uneasiness crept in at the thought of what might be expected of her. She hoped it involved cooking, a little cleaning, and caring for Misty. Oh, and keeping Corinne company. Cheering her up.
“My apologies, ma’am.” He didn’t sound very sorry at all, but she supposed it was something.
“I love Corinne.” She spoke the words honestly. “I’m gonna do whatever she needs me to do.”
“Well, then.” Again, his voice caught. “That makes two of us, three, if you count Misty. Where are you now?” His abrupt change in subject jolted her.
“I’m about twenty miles south of Grand Junction. I was calling to let Corinne know. She told me the cutoff was easy to miss. Am I getting close?”
Again, with the sigh. “You’ll never find it. Hell, Corinne still misses it sometimes.”
She heard what sounded like dishes clanking and then his voice filled her car again. “Listen, when you hit Delta, take highway ninety-two towards Hotchkiss. Call back before you get too far out of town. That way I can meet you at the Elk Canyon Little store. You can follow me from there.”
“Which store in Elk Canyon?” Stella asked.
“The little store. The only damn store in town. It’s also the only gas station and the only barber shop.”
They still had barber shops? “Okay, call you when I’m in Hotchkiss. Got it.”
And then the line went dead. She hoped it was because she was in the middle of nowhere, and not a sign of things to come.
Peyton threw the dish towel on the counter and took a few deep breaths. He still couldn’t believe it. His little sister, hell, Misty’s mama. He’d gone to the doctor with her. They planned on shooting her up with chemo and then zapping her with all kinds of radiation. Even so, the doctor wasn’t hopeful. Peyton’s heart physically hurt when he thought about it.
Which seemed to be every other second since they’d been given the news.
And now this, whatsername woman from Denver was coming to stay at the ranch. If Corinne hadn’t insisted she needed her friend around, Peyton would have found somebody local to come out to help. He clenched his fists. She’d had the audacity to ask him if they had good wireless up here. Did she think they dwelled in the nineties? This was a working ranch. He’d had satellite installed as soon as he’d taken over.
He’d seen pictures of Stella Fairchild. One in particular, of her wearing a short red dress – a very tight short red dress – and a pair of spiky looking heels. A woman like that would likely prove worthless when he needed help bringing down the herd, mending a fence, or feeding stock. All the things Corinne had been helping him do over the last few years. Hell, he wondered if Miss Fairchild even knew how to cook.
But Corinne wanted her. And she was Misty’s godmother.
He peered out the window. Corinne probably had gone into Crawford to get some groceries or something. He hated that she forgot her phone. Especially now. What if she got sick out there by herself?
He swallowed around the lump in his throat and shoved Corinne’s phone in his pocket. He’d better
finish working on Big Bertha before that woman called back. Likely he wouldn’t have time tomorrow. Grabbing his hat, he then headed outside toward the main barn.
He’d just finished changing the oil when his back pocket vibrated. Hopefully Ms. Fairchild wasn’t lost.
“You in Hotchkiss?” He answered hoping she didn’t tell him she’d ended up somewhere else. On second thought, maybe they’d all be better off if she ended up in Telluride. That’s likely more up her alley.
“I am. I pulled over – decided to fill up with gas – just in case.”
She sounded a little less sure of herself this time. Peyton tightened the cap on the oil intake and then rubbed his hand on his jeans. “Okay, I’ll head out now. Wait for me at the store.”
“Did Corinne get back yet?” She did sound concerned. He’d give her that.
“Nah, she’ll be alright though. Now go. And then wait. Got it?”
“Got it.” This time she hung up on him.
Well, hell.
“Ready to go for a ride, Red?” Peyton never went anywhere without him. She jumped to her feet and shook off a cloud of dust. Peyton had rescued the Australian Sheppard from the pound when he was little more than a puppy, six years ago. Best damn dog a man could have.
He wiped his hands on a nearby cloth but traces of oil remained nonetheless. He’d have to clean up later tonight. Maybe he’d pass Corinne on the way out. He hoped so.
Although the truck’s thermostat showed a rise in the outdoor temperature as he descended the mountain, Peyton didn’t feel it until stepping out of the truck. Thank God for air conditioning. Snatching his hat from the console, he approached the only car in the lot – a black convertible Audi, it’s engine purring softly.
He assumed it belonged to his guest. Wonderful. Although he did maintenance on the road regularly, he’d noticed a few sizable ruts coming down. This little buttercup might bottom out a few times.
The driver’s side door opened and long, slim legs emerged. Irritation warred with testosterone induced appreciation. At least she wasn’t wearing heels. No, those delicately manicured feet wore flat little sandals consisting of nothing more than chains and jewels. And was that a ring on her toe? He adjusted his jeans uncomfortably.
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