“Okay.” I linked my hands behind her back, my eyes never leaving her face. “I did work with a very talented designer on the interior of the house. The first time we met, I had a hard time answering her questions about my style, my taste in furnishings. I’d been living in rentals with cast-offs from my mom and dad since I’d left college, and after Lena and I got married, we only bought the bare essentials, you know? We focused on what Max needed, or what he really wanted.”
“That makes sense.”
“Right.” I exhaled. “So I’m talking to the designer, and she’s getting so frustrated with me because I just keep shrugging and sayingI don’t know.”
Peyton smiled. “I can only imagine.”
“Yeah.” I smirked. “I wasn’t her favorite client at that moment. But then she asked me to imagine who I saw living in the space with me—not Max, who was about to take off for college, not Reggie, who saw this only as a business investment—but the person I hoped would actually love living here with me at some point in the future. I think she expected me to come up with some impossible dream woman, one who didn’t really exist. But someone real, someone I knew, immediately sprang to mind . . . and that’s who I was thinking of when we made all of the design decisions for my house.”
“Nash.” Peyton breathed my name.
“Yeah, so . . . I mean, of course, it had been a long time since I’d seen you, spoken with you, and I’m not delusional; I knew I couldn’t predict who you had become or pretend to know what your dream house would have been even when I’d known you back in high school. But I made some guesses, and I imagined you twenty-some years older, and I remembered things you had liked back when I knew you. I guessed a lot.” I spread out one hand to encompass the whole room. The entire house. “So . . . I really hope you love this place as much as I do, because in the end, I made it for you. Or at least, my vision of you.”
She stepped away from me, and for one terrifying moment, I thought that I’d pushed too hard, said something I shouldn’t have, or legitimately creeped her out. But then I saw the expression on her face, and everything within me fell into a place of peace.
“Nash, I don’t know if this house is what I would have chosen at the time you designed it, but I can tell you that right now, the Peyton who is here today, now, loves all of it. I wouldn’t change a thing. If I could dream up my perfect home, this would be it.” She gave a quick huff of laughter, still looking around. “As a matter of fact, it’s kind of crazy how much this room reminds me of my own, in Savannah. Mine isn’t as large, and there are some differences, but the color scheme—these warm blue-greens alongside the cooler greys—this is identical to how I painted my room. My whole upstairs, actually.” She turned back toward me, her smile broadening. “I love it. I adore the whole room.”
“I’m glad.” I swooped her into my arms. “But you know, all along, this place has been missing something, some crucial, undefinable but essential detail.”
Peyton hooked her hands together behind my neck. “Oh, really? And what’s that?”
“It’s not a what, it’s a who. And it’s you.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “My house finally feels complete. How crazy is that?”
“So very crazy,” she agreed. “But keep talking. I like what you’re saying.”
“Well, then, I hope you’re going to love this.” Bending my knees, I caught her behind the knees, grinning at her shriek of surprise as I held her in my arms, close to my chest. I carried her to my bed and tumbled both of us onto the mattress, rolling until she lay under me, her bright eyes watching me.
“What are doing to me, Nash?” she murmured, bringing her hands up to run them over my chest. “What arewedoing?”
I shifted until my lower body was between her legs, bracing myself over her. As if we’d laid like this forever, her legs circled my hips, pulling me closer.
“We’re finding each other again, sweetheart,” I replied, and then I kissed her until the rest of the world disappeared.
Chapter Twelve
Peyton
Ihad teased Nash about trading in one small town for another, but the next day, as he gave me a tour of Burton, I had to admit that the little community had undeniable charm. We drove through town first, as Nash pointed out spots of interest and places that he had mentioned to me over text: Kenny’s Diner, the library, a bakery called Sweetness and Bites, the town green, and Brew Me Right microbrewery.
“Lots of eating options for such a small population,” I observed.
“And I haven’t even shown you Sasha and Cole Turner’s place, Smoky Joe’s Barbecue.” He paused. “You probably wouldn’t remember them, but they both grew up in the Cove. Sasha was originally from Burton, but she moved to Florida with her grandmother when she was pretty young.”
“Is Cole any relation to the Turners who lived in that pretty white house on the way to the bridge out of town?”
“Yeah, he’s their son.” Nash nodded. “Sasha and her grandmother lived right next door to them.”
“But they ended up here, in Burton.” I shook my head. “It feels like there’s a weird connection between the Cove and this town.”
“Hey, maybe there is.” Nash shrugged. “If you believe in ley lines and stuff like that, maybe these two towns have some sort of paranormal link.”
“Nash Sampson, are you getting woo-woo in your old age?” I teased.
He cast me a glare that was pure outrage. “First of all, I’m not old. Second, any woo that I have, I picked up from Reggie over the years.”
“Fine, fine.” I lifted my hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.”
“That’s better.” He winked at me as we stopped at a red traffic light. “So speaking of a Cove connection, I thought we’d ride out to the countryside so you can see some of the farms around here. That’s where the town actually was born: a bunch of farmers decided to build a school, some stores and so on, and it grew into Burton.”
