Junk Mail(29)

“Any luck?”

Peyton’s voice is so sweet and hopeful that it nearly kills me to break the news that we’re shit out of luck. I’ve got to do something to make this right. As much as I don’t want to sleep in a cold, moldy room, it’s looking like my best option.

I slide my keycard out of my front pocket and hold it out to Peyton. “Here. Take my room. Top floor, end of the hall. Room 1875.”

She scrunches her brow at me and folds her arms over her chest. Damn, is she seriously going to be stubborn about this?

“What? No way.”

“Come on, Peyton. I’m the one who booked this hotel. I can’t let you sleep here in these conditions. Especially not since you’ll be pitching to store managers all day tomorrow. I need you well rested.”

I nod at the keycard again, urging her to take it. When she finally does, a soft, sweet smile spreads across her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “You’re too good to me.”

Her words hit me straight in the chest. Given the chance, I could be really, really good to her. But we agreed to be on our best behavior, and I’m going to do everything I can to stick to my word.

? ? ?

Dinner consists of plenty of business strategizing accompanied by plenty of wine. When in Rome, right? It’s Peyton’s first time to wine country, despite having lived in New York her whole life, and it would be a sin not to treat her to the fruits of the region.

If this trip were for pleasure instead of business, I’d be showing her all the best wineries, waiting for her reaction as the finest cabernet hit her tongue for the first time. Instead, the four of us are in a mid-level bistro across the street from the hotel, putting sauv blanc on Brody’s corporate card while going over meeting notes. Not ideal, but I’ll take what I can get.

“I’m not sure if I said thank you already,” Peyton says softly, leaning in to speak just to me. “But what you did for me on the plane was really kind.”

“It was nothing. I was happy to help.” We played a couple of hands of cards and enjoyed a stiff cocktail together. It’s hard to be stressed out when you’re having fun.

“Well, I appreciated it. It was probably the most relaxed I’ve ever felt on a plane.”

“Noted. On the way back, I can teach you spades. It’s one of my favorite card games.”

She laughs and swirls the wine in her glass. “That sounds like a plan.”

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” I ask, and glance at Brody and Toby. “Do you want to run through everything again?”

“That’d be great.”

After a few glasses, a few entrées, and enough corporate talk to make any sane person’s head explode, we all call it a night and head back to the hotel. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Although I doubt I’ll be sleeping too well in my chilly, moldy room. Looks like I’ll be powered entirely by caffeine tomorrow, but it’s worth it to be sure Peyton is safe and comfortable.

Brody and Toby join the group ahead of us stepping into the hotel elevator, leaving enough room for a toddler or two in the cramped space. Brody gives us an apologetic wave, mouthing sorry before the doors close and we have to wait for another open elevator.

I’ve still got most of a wine buzz going by the time we step into the next open elevator, so I’m sure it’s the sauv blanc going to my head when I notice Peyton giving me a familiar look. It’s the look I saw glistening in her eyes through the dark of the hotel coat closet last week. And it’s certainly not the kind of look that says I’m on my best behavior. It’s a look that screams come and get a taste.

But I’ve got to be imagining it? Right? So then why is she biting that lower lip, making me want nothing more than to come over there and bite it for her?

Fuck it. Brody and Toby are in their rooms for the night. And I’ve got liquid courage on my side. Why not test the waters?

The elevator stops at my floor and I look straight at Peyton, keeping my eyes locked with hers as the doors open, then shut. I don’t get off. “Let me walk you to your room to make sure you get in safe.”

She nods.

When we get off on her floor, I follow her down the hall, trying to keep my expectations in check. Just because we’re attracted to each other, just because we’ve flirted and talked and laughed all day, it doesn’t mean she’s going to invite me into her room. Well, technically, my room.

When we reach her room, we stop in front of the door, and I wait while she fishes the keycard out of her purse and swipes it against the sensor by the doorknob. Then she pushes open the door but doesn’t go inside. My heartbeat increases steadily.

“Are you coming in with me?” There’s that hope in her voice again. It’s so fucking cute.

“I don’t know. Am I?”

It’s an honest question. I know I’m breaking our agreement here, and I don’t want to push this an inch further than she wants it to go. So, I’m following her lead, and it looks like she’s leading me straight into her bed.

We hardly make it three steps into the hotel room before crashing into each other.

My mouth finds hers so naturally, sucking and biting at her lower lip as her hands explore the muscles of my chest and shoulders. She tastes like wine and honey and autumn, just how I remember. It’s my new favorite flavor. When her hands hit the button of my jeans, my inhale is so sharp that Peyton hesitates.