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“You knew Mr. Benson was selling?” I questioned Peyton.
“Of course. When I leased the apartment, Mr. Benson told me his intentions. However, I thought I wouldn’t have to start looking for a new living arrangement this soon,” Peyton grinned at Mr. Benson.
“That was the plan. But Chloe discovered my intentions, and this afternoon we came to a verbal agreement.” Mr. Benson left out how I got my information. “As soon as Janice at the realty office calls, we can start the ball rolling,” Mr. Benson told me before leaving to serve customers.
“What about your internship at the library?” My heart fluttered at Peyton’s adoring look of concern.
“My goal has always been to encourage the love of reading,” I explained. “I can do that here,” I stretched my arms wide, “the same as I could at the library. Maybe better,” I proclaimed. “No one can censor what I put on my shelves.” Too many times growing up, the book I wanted was considered by the staff as “above my reading level.” And too many times, Aunt Catherine intervened on my behalf. It was a fine line I hoped to navigate without breaking any laws.
“So you’re not moving to Boston?” Peyton’s dark brown eyes gleamed with lust.
“No, I’m not moving to Boston,” I confirmed. “And I hear if you’re nice to the new owner, she might be willing to extend your lease,” I teased.
Peyton leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “How about you come upstairs and let me show you how nice I can be?”
I understood the implication of Peyton’s words. Was I ready to follow Peyton upstairs and let him be nice to me?
