Chapter Seven
“So, where are we going?” asked Peyton stiffly. Everything about her, about the way she was sitting in the passenger seat with her arms folded tightly over her chest, was as stiff as a body in rigor mortis.
At least she showed up this afternoon. At least she proved Kelsey wrong, who had bet fifty dollars on Peyton bailing. Josie hardly slept a wink last night and when she had finally fallen asleep, she dreamed of Peyton strangling her and holding her under the waves.
“Pirate’s Cove Beach, or more technically, Smuggler’s Cave via the Cape Landing trail,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel.
“Trail?” frowned Peyton. “You mean we’re going to be hiking?”
“Yes,” said Josie matter-of-factly. “It’s why I told you to wear running shoes.”
“I thought you were joking,” retorted Peyton, her brows knitting tightly together. “You said it like you were joking.”
“I was out of breath running after your car. I definitely wasn’t joking.”
She wrinkled her nose, lifted a sneakered foot, and asked, “Will these get ruined?”
“Well,” said Josie, glancing down at Peyton’s sparkly white branded sneakers and at the same time glimpsed her slender, toned legs—her heart raced a little—before she shrugged. “You’ll be fine. It’s mostly downhill and not technical.”
She obviously wasn’t going to mention that they had to walk back up to the parking lot after, and that there would be sand and dirt. That was fairly obvious, or at least she hoped.
Peyton huffed, “I’m being punished for something, aren’t I?” She raised both hands up as if to the heavens. “Why are you punishing me, God? What have I done to deserve to be fussed over by a woman who’s crazier than the Mad Hatter?”
Josie smiled. Even with the mockery, she couldn’t help it.
There was just something so intriguing about Peyton, about the way she wore a mask fastened over her face with a rubber band and every now and then it shifted.
In that moment, Josie could glimpse the real her, the soft gooey inside that was Peyton’s real self.
Even a year ago, back in Manuel Antonio, in that hotel room, Josie had been able to tell that there was an entirely different person hiding beneath the icy cold fa?ade Peyton had created.
Hidden smiles when she didn’t think Josie was looking, faraway stares through the window looking at absolutely nothing, and those soft, frowning murmurs in her sleep.
An entirely different Peyton.
“Maybe you were a horrible person in your past life,” chuckled Josie. “A tax collector or a Mafia hitman.”
Peyton scowled and darted her head out the window to the blur of buildings as they headed out of San Luis Obispo.
She kept up the silent treatment for the remainder of the drive.
Not that Josie minded. She was far too busy reciting the bedtime story over and over again, making sure she remembered every detail.
Details mattered. She couldn’t possibly do fate justice without the details.
“We’re here,” said Josie a few minutes later, pulling into the designated parking area located at the trailhead.
Golden wildflowers surrounded the spot and coast live oak, as well as Monterey cypress trees, clung to the rocky cliffs.
It felt like home and Josie would have blown out air in relief, but she didn’t want Peyton to notice just how nervous she was.
The woman was like a rescue dog… if she got even the slightest whiff of fear or nerves, she would sprint for the hills.
Peyton climbed out and stretched her arms up over her head, yawning in the process. “I’ve never been here before.”
“Do you even like the beach?”
“Not particularly,” she said, sniffing the air. Then, as if a thought had suddenly sprinted into her mind, she whipped both her head and a finger in Josie’s direction. “And don’t try to read into it. There’s no deep-rooted meaning behind it. Some people just aren’t beach people.”
“Who says I was going to read into it?” asked Josie, locking the car, although she most certainly had already formed a theory about Peyton’s beach aversion. It probably stemmed from a childhood incident involving a jellyfish sting or a sandcastle war with a cousin or best friend.
“You just look like someone who will,” Peyton said in a flat tone.
“Well, I wasn’t going to,” lied Josie. “I was actually just going to ask if it wasn’t because you grew up in the desert. But then again, you didn’t, did you? You’re not even from Nevada.”
The way Peyton stared at her, eyes cold and grey, teeth bared showing those slightly pointier than average incisors, made Josie’s heart beat faster, her palms clammy and her knees wobbly.
It was both exhilarating and terrifying, like riding one of those rollercoasters at the fair when you never knew if you were in for tons of fun or staring death in the face.
And she wasn’t even supposed to have brought up the lies.
Josie had promised herself not to, begged herself this morning to keep this trip as tension-free as possible, but the words had just slipped out of her mouth.
It made sense, didn’t it? Mentioning the lies could potentially open up a conversation.
It could give Josie insight. Peyton was a book she wanted to read.
Hell, she would preorder copies, stand in a queue for twelve hours in the biting winter air, and fight a horde of women to get the last copy if needed.
The death stare continued.
Peyton was the first to break it. “Let’s just hike to this cave before the sun sets.” She checked her watch, wrinkled her nose, and set off in the wrong direction.
“Other way,” called Josie and took off in the direction of the fork in the trail, relieved when she heard Peyton’s footsteps thud behind her.
Soon they arrived at a sign: one arrow pointed right toward the cave and the other pointed left toward a clothing-optional beach.
“The last thing I want to see is naked men with their dicks dangling between their legs,” said Peyton, eyes on the board and her hands on her hips.
“Well, you’re in luck. We’re headed right.
” Again, Josie took the lead, eyes on the Pacific Ocean while the path meandered further down.
Peyton was walking close behind her. Josie was acutely aware of every single breath and every crunch of her steps.
She kept trying to think of something to say to break the ice that had settled over them like dense morning fog.
But nothing good came to mind. Her usually cluttered brain, filled with useless information, was surprisingly empty.
Josie wasn’t sure if she was relieved or severely worried.
At least Peyton attempted to break the ice. “So why is this place so special? Why force me all the way to this beach when there are tons of beaches along here?”
“You’ll see.”
Peyton stopped in her tracks, and only when the footsteps bled away did Josie look back over her shoulder.
First, she spotted the impatient tap of Peyton’s sneaker, and then she slid her gaze up and over those long-tanned legs, all the way to the intolerant fold of her arms over her chest. Even when she looked grumpy, Peyton was still hot as hell.
“How about you just tell me?”
“Are you always like this?” asked Josie.
“Like what?” she fired back, her chin tilting slightly upward.
“Insufferable.”
The look on Peyton’s face was suddenly a myriad of expressions.
Surprise gave way to extreme annoyance, which then shifted to amusement.
Finally, it ended in a big, roaring laugh.
When she choked on her laugh—Josie did everything to maintain some form of seriousness since her reply had warranted it—and wiped imaginary tears from beneath her lids. Peyton nodded. “Yes, actually. I am.”
“Good.” smiled Josie. “At least that’s one thing I know about you.” She then whipped back in the direction of the cave and marched onward, all the while trying to settle her rapidly beating heart.
It wasn’t long before they reached their destination.
Smuggler’s Cave was a pass-thru cave with the ocean opening up behind it, like a window into an entirely new world.
Light filtered through the opening and faltered just as quickly and from experience, Josie knew that at the other side of it was a sheer cliff, dropping straight down to waves crashing into rocks.
Josie made a beeline for the cave; grateful it wasn’t packed with tourists and locals alike as so many times before.
After her dad had died, she and Kelsey had spent many weekends hiking down to it, sitting beneath the arch.
They would press their backs up against the graffitied walls, hoping to hear their dad’s whispers carried on the waves.
Right then, right there, Josie could feel her dad in the sounds of the crashing waves, the warmth of the sun on her face, and the smell of the salty sea air. She was suddenly drifting in a place between there and two years ago, before the stroke, before their lives changed forever—
“What are you doing?” asked Peyton, her voice bouncing off the sandstone, startling Josie. She had her eyes closed, neck bent backward, and arms out like she was flying.
“Absorbing my dad’s spirit.” She blinked open her eyes and glanced in Peyton’s direction. She nearly burst out in laughter at the extreme worry on her face, as if she had just witnessed Josie murder someone. Josie added, “Just kidding.” Although she wasn’t. Not really.
“So, is this it? This is the magical place you want me to see, hoping it would somehow convert me into believing in fate?” Peyton added ghost sounds that weren’t applicable, but Josie allowed them anyway.
“It is,” came Josie, walking into the shade of a tunnel-like cave. “This is where the story began.”
“The one your dad told you?”
“Exactly. He said it was completely true. Not a word made up.”
“And you believed him?” asked Peyton, her ocean-blue eyes full of skepticism.
Not that Josie was deterred by disbelief.
Actually, Peyton’s entire pessimistic approach fueled her.
She was eating up Peyton’s entire cynical demeanor like she was an apple.
Specifically, a cold, crisp granny smith apple.
“Of course, I did. Dad never lied to me.”
Peyton nodded. Her eyes were narrowed, and those arms once again folded themselves over her chest as if guarding her heart from some sort of attack.
If only Josie could break through those walls and understand how a woman who could kiss so warmly, so passionately, be so cold and brooding.
But there was a story more important that needed to be told and so Josie asked, “Are you ready to hear the story? Are you ready to have your opinion about fate completely transformed?”
“No,” said Peyton, deadpanned.
“Well, here goes.” Josie cleared her throat and put on the same low, mystical tone her dad had always used when he sat them down for bedtime stories.
“Once, long ago, when ships still sailed with flags bearing white skulls and crossbones, Captain Sebastian and his crew sought refuge in Pirate’s Cove after a fierce storm had battered their ship.
It was a beautiful ship named Elsa, after his beloved late wife, who was lost to the sea a few years prior.
Legend whispered of a cursed treasure hidden in the cove.
Undeterred by the danger, and reckless with pain, Sebastian snuck off. ”
Josie cut the story short when she watched as a breeze swept through Peyton’s hair, sun-kissed waves flying wildly.
Once again, Peyton had her arms folded over her chest, shoulders hunched as if she was fighting the cold when the weather was a perfectly pleasant sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.
A look of complete disinterest sat thickly on her face.
Josie exhaled loudly. “You know, you basically look like a wound-up rubber band with hair.”
Peyton snapped her head in Josie’s direction and gasped, “I do not.”
“Yes, you do. I’m trying to tell you a story, a beautiful story and you’re just standing there like you’re being sacrificed to the sea. I’m not trying to kill you, Peyton.”
Her scowl softened a degree. “I know. I’m sorry. I really was listening to you. It’s just…” Peyton cut herself off and stared into the distance. Her eyes were on the sparkly blue ocean with slivers of silver and pale yellow bobbing on the ripples.
“Just what?” asked Josie, feeling one tiny, minuscule step closer to knowing the real Peyton. That notion soon faltered when Peyton shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said, putting on a smile that bordered between genuine and not, and then added, “Now please continue with your story. I’m listening. I promise.”
The promise sounded faulty and when Josie looked up at the sky, swirls of orange were already making themselves known.
Sunset was in less than an hour, and they still had to make the trek back to the car.
Her stomach suddenly grumbled. The last meal she had was breakfast, but even that had gone down painfully with all those nerves in her belly.
Feeling somewhat dejected and very much hungry, Josie pointed in the direction of the parking lot.
“How about I continue the story on the way back to the car?”
“Are you sure?” asked Peyton, though she looked just about ready to run off, to throw herself down the hill and behind the wheel.
“I’m sure.”
Sometimes it was better to accept a situation than to force it. It was obvious that Peyton was a much harder nut to crack. Josie would just have to come up with another plan.