“I was with her near the end of April. Fourteen, maybe fifteen weeks ago. Tops. Just before I stopped hooking up.”
“You mean, before there was potential for us.”
“Yes.” I wrap her hand with my own. “Even if the chances were slim, I didn’t want to fuck up the opportunity.” I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles. “So, without a doubt, I know this baby isn’t mine.”
“Why do you think she came to you then?”
I shrug. “Was probably the easiest person to find. She knew where I worked. If she hooked up with random strangers in clubs or bars, chances are she has no way to find them. Not unless they exchanged numbers or hooked up at the other person’s house.”
“Are you sure you’re remembering the correct person at the correct time?” She peers over from the driver’s seat, a smirk on her lips. “You do have a thing for blondes. No doubt they all blend together.” Her tone is teasing, but I get her meaning.
With my free hand, I reach over, pinch a strand of her champagne locks between my fingers, and give a slight tug. “Blondes have more fun. I should know, I am one.”
“Ha ha.” She makes a silly face, but I only catch her profile.
I twirl her hair around a finger and simply watch her as she drives. Can’t recall a time in my life where a woman has made me so introspective. Has made me really dig deep and see past the mundane. Has made me want more from life—not because that is what I should do, but because I want more with her.
“Or maybe I wanted one specific blonde and the others were mental distractions.”
We reach a red light and she faces me. “What?” She appears genuinely confused by my admission.
“Peyton, it’s no secret I pined for you from the beginning. Even the days when you verbally bit my head off, I still wanted you.” Laughter vibrates my chest. “For so long, I never knew why you despised me from the get-go. At first, I thought it was your form of banter. But soon realized it wasn’t. I didn’t want to give up, though.”
The light turns green and she faces the road again. We remain quiet the rest of the drive until Peyton parks at a delicatessen near the house. The restaurant somewhat busy considering the time of day.
Unbuckling her belt, she twists to face me fully. I mimic the action, and for a moment, we just sit and stare at each other. Her violet irises hidden behind dark lenses as she holds my gaze. With some, I would shake off their nonstop gaze. But with Peyton, I want her eyes on me as often as possible. Want the attention she gives and the radiance it generates just beneath my sternum and to the left.
“Glad you didn’t,” she says.
Glad I didn’t what?I scrunch my brow. “What?”
“Give up. I’m glad you didn’t.”
For three breaths, I sit immobile. Then I lean across the console, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pull her close, and kiss the hell out of her. We make out like teenagers in the parking lot for several minutes. I don’t know who breaks the kiss, but I press my forehead to hers when it ends.
“Me too, hellcat. Me too.”