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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.”
