Chapter 5
PEYTON
Icouldn’t stop smiling.
It was becoming a problem. Every time I tried to school my expression into something professional—something appropriate for a volunteer coordinator at a rescue operation—I’d catch Warrick’s eye across the lot, and my face would betray me all over again.
He wasn’t helping. Every glance he sent my way was loaded with heat, with promise, with memories of what we’d just done in the back seat of his truck. My skin still tingled where he’d touched me. I could still feel the phantom press of his mouth on my neck, the delicious soreness between my thighs.
Focus, Peyton. Dogs. Rescue. Work.
I threw myself back into the operation, directing volunteers, checking on animals, doing anything to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. It mostly worked. Except for the moments when Warrick passed close enough for me to catch his scent, and my whole body lit up like a Christmas tree.
“You okay?” Joel asked, giving me a strange look as I fumbled with a clipboard for the third time in ten minutes. “You seem distracted.”
“Fine. Just tired.” I forced a neutral expression. “Long day.”
“It’s barely four o’clock.”
“Long two days, then.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. Thank God for small mercies.
The afternoon sun had started its descent toward the mountains when a black sedan pulled into the lot. It wasn’t a rescue vehicle or a volunteer’s car—this one was too clean, too deliberate. Official.
A woman climbed out, young but carrying herself with authority.
She had dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and the kind of tired eyes that suggested she’d seen the inside of too many meetings.
I recognized her from local news coverage, from the ribbon-cutting ceremony when the firehouse opened.
Mayor Tessa Pearce.
My stomach dropped.
She surveyed the operation with a practiced eye, her expression carefully neutral. Then her gaze landed on Warrick—who was already walking toward her—and something shifted in her posture. Recognition. History. I drifted closer, pretending to check on a nearby kennel while I watched them talk.
“Warrick.” Tessa’s voice was pleasant but businesslike. “I had a feeling I’d find you here.”
“Mayor.” He shook her hand, every inch the polished property owner. “What brings you out?”
“Calls.” She sighed, glancing around at the organized mayhem. “Several of them, actually. Business owners on the neighboring parcels have concerns. Traffic, noise, the general…” She gestured vaguely. “Nature of things.”
“The rescue operation is temporary. A few weeks at most.”
“I understand that. And I’m sympathetic—truly.
What Dr. Hanson is doing here is important work.
” Tessa’s expression softened slightly. “But I have to balance everyone’s interests.
The council is already asking questions about the lease terms, about whether proper approvals were obtained for an operation of this size. ”
I watched Warrick’s shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly. Anyone else might have missed it, but I’d spent all day learning the small tells of his body language. This was costing him something.
“The lease allows for veterinary services,” he said carefully. “Emergency animal care falls within that scope.”
“Does it? The way I hear it, the original agreement was for a small trailer clinic, not a staging ground for a county-wide rescue effort.” Tessa held up a hand before he could respond.
“I’m not here to shut anything down. I pushed too hard for this firehouse to want problems with the property it sits on.
But I need to know you’re handling this, Warrick.
That the paperwork will be in order if the council comes asking. ”
“It will be.”
“And the complaints?”
“I’ll talk to the neighbors personally. Smooth things over.”
Tessa studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear.” Her gaze drifted past him, landing on me briefly before returning to him. “I’ll check back in a few days. And Warrick? Whatever you’re doing differently today—keep doing it. You seem almost human.”
She said it with a small smile, like they’d known each other long enough for gentle teasing. Then she was walking back to her car, leaving Warrick standing in the middle of the lot with his shoulders tight and his expression carefully blank.
I waited until her car had pulled away before approaching him.
“That looked fun,” I said quietly.
He let out a breath. “Tessa’s not the problem. She’s reasonable—always has been. But the council…” He shook his head. “I’ve spent years building credibility with them. One wrong move, and they’ll make my life difficult out of spite.”
The weight of what he was saying settled over me. This wasn’t just about a lease violation or some annoyed neighbors. This was about his reputation. His livelihood. Everything he’d worked to build in this town.
And I was part of the problem.
“Is this going to cost you?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “What you’ve built here—is being involved with me going to destroy it?”
He went still. “Peyton—”
“Because I can step back.” The words came out steady, even if my chest ached. “Focus on the rescue. Keep things professional between us. If that’s what you need to protect yourself, I’ll understand.”
The words felt wrong coming out, but I meant them. I’d technically just met this man. I had no right to ask him to risk everything he’d spent years building.
Even if walking away might break something inside me I hadn’t known existed until yesterday.
Warrick was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.
“I’ve spent my whole life protecting what I have. Building walls, maintaining control, making sure nothing could touch me that I hadn’t planned for.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of him. “I was good at it. Really good. And I was miserable.”
“Warrick—”
“I didn’t realize how miserable until you stood in the middle of my property yesterday with dirt on your face and told me to help instead of threaten.
” His hand came up, cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin.
“You made me remember why I started building in the first place. It wasn’t about the money or the security or the control.
It was about having something that mattered. Something worth protecting.”
My throat tightened. “And now?”
“Now I’ve found something that matters more than all of it.” His eyes held mine, steady and sure. “I want you, Peyton. The rest of it—the council, the lease, the complaints—I’ll figure it out. But I’m not giving you up. Not for politics, not for reputation, not for anything.”
The tears came before I could stop them—not sad tears, but the overwhelming kind that happened when something you hadn’t let yourself hope for suddenly became real.
“I live twenty minutes away,” I said, my voice thick. “I’m still in school. I can only be here on weekends.”
“Then I’ll see you every weekend.”
“The rescue operation won’t last forever. Eventually, there won’t be a reason for me to keep coming back.”
“I’ll give you a reason.” He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me. “Move in with me when you’re ready. Or don’t—we’ll figure out the logistics. But I’m not letting distance or schedules or any other practical bullshit convince me to walk away from this.”
I laughed against his chest, watery and overwhelmed. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I’m sure of you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “The rest is just details.”
We stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, while the rescue operation hummed along around us. Volunteers moved between stations. Dogs barked. Someone called out a question about feeding schedules. Life continued, loud and messy and beautiful.
“So what happens now?” I asked. “With the lease, the council, all of it?”
“I’ll talk to Dr. Hanson tomorrow. Draw up an amended agreement that covers the rescue operation properly—expanded use provisions, liability waivers, the works.
Make it official so nobody can complain about technicalities.
” He pulled back enough to look at me. “And I’ll handle the neighbors myself.
Most of them are reasonable. They just want to feel heard. ”
“What about Mayor Pearce?”
“Tessa’s on our side, even if she can’t say it outright. She fought hard for that firehouse—practically went to war with the council to make it happen. She’s not going to let a rescue operation for homeless dogs become a political problem if she can help it.”
I nodded slowly, the knot in my chest finally starting to loosen. “Okay. So we have a plan.”
“We have a plan.” He smiled—a real smile, warm and unguarded in a way I was starting to realize was rare for him. “And after we finish here tonight, I’m taking you to dinner like I promised. Then home. Then bed.”
Heat rushed through me at the memory of his earlier words. Slow. Thorough. Until you forget everything except how good we feel together.
“I like that plan too,” I managed.
The sun was sinking toward the mountains now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Warrick guided me toward the edge of the lot, away from the bustle of the operation, to a spot where we could see the view stretching out before us.
I leaned into his side, his arm solid around my shoulders, and watched the colors deepen.
Two days ago, I’d driven to Wildwood Valley with nothing but a broken heart and a need to fill the void Benny had left behind. I’d expected long hours, hard work, and the quiet satisfaction of helping animals who needed it.
I hadn’t expected Warrick. Hadn’t expected to find someone who saw me—really saw me—and wanted me anyway. Hadn’t expected to feel, for the first time in my life, like I’d found the place I was supposed to be.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“For what?”
“For not letting me walk away. For choosing this—choosing us—even when it would have been easier not to.”
He turned his head, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Easiest decision I ever made.”
The sun slipped below the ridgeline, leaving the sky awash in purple and gold. Somewhere behind us, a dog barked happily. Volunteers laughed about something. The world kept spinning, full of noise and life and possibility.
And I stood there with Warrick’s arm around me, watching the last light fade, feeling something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Home.
Not a place, but a person. Not somewhere I’d been searching for, but someone I’d stumbled into by accident and couldn’t imagine leaving behind.
I was twenty-three years old. I had a semester of community college left and a life waiting for me in Hartsville. Nothing about this made sense on paper. But standing here, leaning into the man who’d somehow become my everything in the span of two impossible days, I didn’t care about paper.
I cared about this. About him. About the future we were going to build together, one weekend at a time.