12. Peyton
PEYTON
I have whiplash from Daltyn’s personality changes today. And it’s only been about twenty-four hours.
He pulls up to the cabin. There’s a box sitting on the porch.
“That’s probably your boot,” he says, already exiting the vehicle.
I start to climb out but am stopped by him. He scoops me into his arms and strides toward the house.
“I can walk,” I protest.
“You’ve been on your feet enough today.”
He repeats the same pattern as yesterday, sitting me on the sectional. Then he goes back outside and grabs the box.
“Let’s see how this feels.” He opens it, then carefully slides the sock over my foot. “This may hurt, but I need you to help me get your foot in here.”
I nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
I brace myself, but he’s so gentle, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as I anticipated. He adjusts the straps, then asks, “How does it feel?”
“Kind of heavy.” I frown at it .
“They are clunky.” He holds out his hands. “Let’s try walking.”
I take a lap around the island and back to the couch.
“Still feel good? Not too tight?”
“It’s fine. It’ll just take a little getting used to.”
“I’m going to go for groceries. Do you want to come along?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I think I’d rather rest it and watch some TV. If that’s okay with you.”
He looks slightly disappointed, but masks it so quickly, I wonder if I imagined it.
“Let me get you set up. Keep the boot on while I’m gone.”
He covers me up with the blanket that still smells like him, then gives me a remote tutorial. He grabs me a bottle of water, then heads to the door.
“You have my number in your phone, right?”
I pull up his contact and hold up my phone. “Yup.”
“Okay. Text me if you need anything. Including whatever you want from the store.” He points at me. “And don’t say ‘I don’t wanna be a burden’ or ‘I don’t have money.’ It’s my treat.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He opens the door, then pauses. “Behave. No dancing or running while I’m gone.”
I snuggle into the blanket. “Haha. Hardly. The couch and blanket are more my thing than running.”
He shoots me a smile that still has my head reeling long after he shuts and locks the door.
Through the window, I watch his SUV travel down the lane.
A sigh slips free. Why do I miss him already?
I glance down at my phone and pull up the notes app. I make a list of things I like to eat and drink, then text it to him.
He responds a couple of minutes later.
Daltyn: Is that it?
I snort, respond.
Me: Yes, sir.
Shit. Why did I call him that?
He responds a few seconds later.
Daltyn: Sir, huh? Stop that. I’m getting worked up.
I like the thought of that more than I should.
Me: Sorry. It just came out. Thanks again for all you’ve done.
I grab the remote and start searching for something to watch.
My phone beeps. I lift it, already feeling giddy from him being so responsive. Landon could take three to five business days to respond.
Daltyn: Always, Peyton.
Why does that line seem like a promise he intends to keep?
I return from the bathroom to a knock on the door. Fear coils through me. I’m out here, alone in a cabin in the woods with an injured ankle. And I’ve seen far too many horror movies.
“Yoohoo. Is anyone home?”
Oh shit. Gram.
I move to the door, unlock it, and pull it open. She stands on the step, holding a pan of something. She’s still wearing the leopard and pink outfit I saw her in at the shoe store.
“Hi, Gram.” I move aside so she can come in.
“Hi, sweet cheeks.” She looks at my ankle. “I hate those damn things. Sprained my ankle once and was in that thing for three weeks.”
I gesture to the sectional. “Have a seat. I’ve just been watching a movie.”
“Where’s Mr. Broody?”
“Grocery store.”
“Ah. He’s a good one, that Daltyn. I love to tease your uptight goalie. His face turns red.” She busies herself opening the container. The delicious aroma of cinnamon buns wafts out.
“He’s not mine,” I say, already salivating over the decadent pastry in the pan.
She side eyes me. “Denial isn’t a good look on you, honey.”
“I’m not in denial.” I point. “You brought everything. Plates. Napkins. Plastic forks.”
“Wasn’t sure what the goalie had. Thought I’d be prepared.” She hands me a slice, then gives me a look. “Daltyn’s a complicated man. Has some kind of trauma he never talks about. ”
I barely suppress the groan as I chew the bite of cinnamon roll in my mouth.
“Trauma? What kind of trauma?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know. Ford and Connor have mentioned that sometimes he shows up to practice looking exhausted.
Dark circles under his eyes. Extremely quiet.
And those times... he played with an intensity that shocked them at first. But now they’re used to it.
” She hands me a napkin. “Like he’s trying to work out his ghosts. ”
The bite of the cinnamon roll I’d eaten feels heavy in my stomach. “Poor guy. I wonder what he’s been through?”
I don’t tell her I’ve noticed some things in my time around him. The way he can be surrounded by his teammates and still appear lonely. The distant look I’ve seen in his eyes at times. And the exhaustion lining his face.
Although I blamed Landon stalking me and Daltyn trying to keep me safe, now I wonder if it’s more than that.
It would make sense why he’s so hell-bent on protecting me.
“Eat up, sweet cheeks.” She gestures at me with her fork. “I know I have your wheels spinning. I figured if anyone could get it out of him, it would be you.”
“Me? Why me?”
Gram scoffs. “Because you’re the only woman I’ve seen him around.”
I nearly choke on my pastry. “What? Come on. That can’t be right.”
She pats my leg. “It is, dear. He’s a loner.”
“I’m sure he’s had one-night stands.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not lonely. It just means he needs to get his jollies off.”
I roll my eyes. “Gram.”
“He probably gets tired of using his hand. Wants a warm body.”
That comment shouldn’t make me as jealous as it does.
“Aha. I knew it,” she yells.
I shake my head. “Knew what?”
“You like him. That made you jealous.”
“It did not?—”
“Don’t deny it. My ESP is infallible.”
I blink. “You have a sixth sense?”
She nods. “Emotional Sass Perception. It never fails me.”
Dear God. She’s crazy.
“And I can tell you with certainty that there’s something between you and the broody, sexy goalie.”
Ew. Why is she calling Daltyn sexy?
I mean, he is, but she’s... old.
“Don’t worry, Sweet Cheeks. I have my own man. I don’t want yours.”
“I’m not worried. He’s not mine.”
She pats my leg. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I give up arguing with her. “How did you get here?”
“Eddie dropped me off. He’s going to pick up my script. Damn hemorrhoids.”
I nearly choke again. “Please don’t tell me about it,” I whisper.
“Not this time.” She gets up, heading for the fridge.
“We don’t have much to drink.”
“Water’s just fine, dear.” She brings two bottles back and sits down. “So... have you thought about where you’d like to get married?”
“What?”
“I have all kinds of ideas if you need them.”
“Completely unnecessary. I have... ideas. ”
God. I can’t imagine what her wedding ideas are. I’m too scared to ask and find out.
“How about baby names?”
I spit out the drink of water I’d just taken.
She laughs, helping me clean up. “You’re as jumpy as your goalie. The two of you really are quite a match.”
There’s a rumble of an engine that draws my attention to the windows.
“Oh. There he comes.” Gram claps her hands excitedly. “I love the way he looks at you. I can’t wait to see his face now that the two of you were separated for a brief time.”
“The way he looks at me?”
She nods. “Like he wants to crawl inside your head and learn everything about you.” Then her grin turns wicked. “Also like he wants to pound you into his mattress hard enough to break the bed.”
Thank God I don’t have anything in my mouth to choke on or spit out because my jaw is on the floor.
“Seriously, Gram.”
Daltyn’s footsteps cross the porch floorboards, heavy and swift. He turns the handle and bursts through the door, his expression dark.“Why’s it unlock—Gram?”
“Don’t get mad at your girl. I dropped by to see how she was.” She pats my leg again. “Poor thing and her hurt ankle.”
Daltyn’s face relaxes, changing to sympathy as he meets my eyes. I shrug my shoulders helplessly.
Hmmm.
He didn’t argue when Gram called me his girl.
“You really didn’t have to drop by,” he says, his arms and hands lined with bags.
“I made cinnamon rolls. I know Peyton likes those.”
“Yes. She does. ”
I watch his retreating back as he heads to the island and starts setting bags on it.
He remembered I like cinnamon rolls? I ate them once in Key West.
“I’ll be back. I need to get the rest.”
“The rest?” I stare at all the bags on the counter. “Are you having a party or cookout?”
His lips twitch. “Nope. I just wanted to be sure I have things you like.”
“I made a list.”
He’s already out the door.
Gram sits back, a smug look on her face. “Told you he has it bad for you. He probably would’ve bought the damn store and named it after you if you asked.”
I shake my head. “I need another cinnamon roll.”
“Good.” She sits forward and grabs my plate. “I was hoping you would.”
Daltyn returns with more bags—and two coffees in his hand.
“Here you go.” He leans over and hands it to me, then heads to the kitchen.
“Oh. You didn’t have?—”
I stop at the look he throws me over his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
He smiles. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh, shit. You’re gonna work on making babies tonight,” Gram murmurs.
I slap her arm. Daltyn looks amused.
I hope he didn’t hear her. But I’m fairly certain he did.
I get up and move toward him. “Do you need any help?”
He opens his mouth, then looks over my shoulder at Gram. “Sure. Would you mind putting this stuff in the refrigerator?”
I grab the yogurt and fresh vegetables with a smile and begin organizing his fridge. He hands me cheese, milk, and some meats.
“So domestic,” Gram remarks. “Ahh. I see Eddie’s headlights.”
I exchange an amused glance with Daltyn, then move to Gram. “Do you want to take your cinnamon rolls?”
“Oh no. Those are for you and lover boy.”
Sweet Jesus. She doesn’t quit.
“Well, thanks for that. They really are delicious.” I hug her, then head to the door.
Daltyn comes up behind me. “Thanks for coming, Gram. Call me before you drop by next time.”
She reaches over my shoulder and pats his arm. “Never.”
I sag against the door as I watch her get into Eddie’s car.
Daltyn’s warm hand moves to my shoulder. “Sorry about that. You could’ve sent me an S.O.S. text. I would’ve come running.”
I wave, then step back, closing the door. Daltyn reaches over and locks it.
“It’s okay. She wasn’t here long.”
“Good.” His gaze drops to my ankle. “How’s it feeling?” The concern in his voice softens something inside me.
“Not too bad.”
“Go sit down. I’ll bring you some ice, and we’ll take a look at it.”
I do as he says without arguing. I blame it on Gram wearing me down.
But the truth is, I like him taking care of me.
And that’s... scary as hell.