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“My breath reeks. Give me some damn gum.”
I swear, it feels like my heart is about to crack through my ribcage from how hard it’s pounding as she walks toward me. So goddamn beautiful. I curl my hands at my sides into tight fists, so I don’t do anything stupid; the need to touch her suddenly overwhelming.
I watch her hips sway with every step she takes, a determined look set on her gorgeous face.
Ten feet. Five feet. One.
And then the sweetest sound caresses my ears when her Cupid’s bow mouth opens, and she says, “Tate.”
FIVE
PEYTON
“…to get started on the new campaign next week.”
Realizing Ryder is speaking to me, I glance up at him, a distracted smile plastered in place. We’d been discussing the new social media campaign, with Knox as the focus, that I would start working on come Monday.
“Sounds good.”
Ryder looks over and sees who I’m blatantly staring at. He knows the entire history between Tate and me. Hell, everyone in Fallen Brook does. It’s the curse of living in a small town. Everyone knows everything about everybody else’s business.
“I haven’t told him yet that I hired you,” Ryder says, giving my arm a supportive squeeze.
I felt Tate as soon as he arrived, the awareness of his presence palpable. The air electrified around me, causing my pulse to pick up, my breaths to become shallow, and an explosion of goose bumps to skitter along my skin in a flurry of tingles. Tate had always had that effect on me.
I’d stalked him enough on social media over the years but seeing him on a small phone or laptop screen was nothing compared to seeing him again in person.
When those Caribbean-blue eyes settle on me from afar, a whole-body shudder quakes me to my core. He’s so much…larger…than I remember. Lean, muscled arms that used to hold me so tenderly are now bulging and straining against the short sleeves of his cotton T-shirt. My eyes soak in every new detail of him. From the top of his artfully shaggy dark hair I want to sink my fingers into to the toes of his dark-brown Timberlakes. Broad chest, tapered waist, and long legs that fill out his jeans to mouthwatering perfection. But it’s the face of the boy I used to love that has every synapse firing with renewed desire. Tate was always gorgeous, but the man he has grown into is absolutely devastating.
Ryder gently places his hand on my lower back and gives me an encouraging push. “We can talk later. Go to him.”
Ryder is not only my boss but a good friend, mentor, and someone who I consider an honorary big brother. Parker and Tate practically grew up at his garage, which means I did, too, since I was forever tagging along wherever my brother and his best friend went. Ryder and everyone else who worked at Randy’s Custom Auto became my adoptive family, in a way. Something I’m incredibly grateful for, especially after losing Parker so suddenly.
Not having to be told twice, I give Ryder a quick side hug and force my wobbly legs to move. With every footfall that crunches the tiny gravel under my feet and takes me closer to Tate, my heart cries out and reaches for him.
I’ve missed you so much.
I love you.
As much as it shredded me into a thousand jagged pieces, I know why Tate pushed me away. Once the hurt and the anger subsided, it left behind a clarity of understanding. Tate loved me enough to give me up. He loved me so much that he was willing to do what was best for me and let me go, even if I wasn’t willing to acknowledge it at the time. I had just lost Parker, and I didn’t want to lose anyone else I loved. I was willing to give up everything, every dream, because of my fears. Tate knew it, and he did the only thing he could to make sure that didn’t happen.
Knowing that truth is what has sustained me without him these past several years.
But there’s one dream I’ve always had since I was nine years old. A dream that I’m willing to fight with my life for. And that dream is standing right in front of me, looking at me with need, and hunger, and longing.
“Tate.”
Those hauntingly beautiful blue eyes heat when I say his name, and his chest expands with a deep inhalation.
“Trouble.”
A smile blooms across my face at the nickname he used to call me, just as a rush of arousal dampens my panties at hearing the deep timbre of his voice. It’s a bizarre and confusing mix of happiness and lust. I don’t know whether to hug and kiss the hell out of him or climb him and demand he take me somewhere more private and screw my brains out.
A hand thrusts in front of me, breaking the smoldering stare-off between Tate and me.
“Hey. I’m Trevaughn.”
“Hi, Trevaughn, I’m Peyton,” I reply with a bemused chuckle when I take his proffered hand.
