Peyton looks around in surprise when the hostess leads us past the main dining room toward a secluded candlelit section near the back windows.
“You did all this?” she asks softly.
The awe in her voice makes my chest tighten.
I shrug slightly. “It’s our first date.”
Like that explains everything.
Maybe it does.
Peyton stares at me for a long second before smiling slowly.
Jesus Christ. That smile could level cities.
Dinner blurs after that. Not because I’m distracted, but because I’m too aware of her.
Her laughter.
Her hand in mine on top of the table.
The way the candlelight catches in her eyes.
The way she watches me when she thinks I’m not looking.
And for the first time in years? I feel calm.
At one point, Peyton laughs so hard at one of Connor’s group chat messages that she nearly chokes on her wine.
“He’s a mess.”
She bites her lip, trying not to laugh harder. “I think you’d better look again. He renamed the group chat.”
Dread settles in my stomach. “Oh, shit. What did he call it?”
Peyton turns my phone toward me. I cringe when I read it.
GOALIE DOWN BAD.
I close my eyes briefly.
“It’s original,” Peyton admits.
I grunt, shaking my head.
Later, after dinner, I pull her outside toward a quiet balcony overlooking the water. Cold mountain air brushes the trees softly around us.
Peyton steps beside the railing, her dress moving lightly in the wind while city lights glow below.
Stunning.
Everything about her is fucking stunning.
I move behind her. My hands settle gently on her hips.
Peyton melts against me.
Emotion catches hard in my throat.
