Page 77 of One More Kiss
Peyton
Crossing the room,I picked up the discarded shirt, strewn negligently over a chair, and brought it to my nose.
“Rancid,” I muttered as I dropped it back where it was. “What the heck is going on?” I grumbled as I headed to the bathroom, and pushing the door open, I saw toiletries, cologne, an electric razor, and shaving foam. There was no actual razor blade. I stared at the anomaly for a few more moments before I headed back to the bedroom.
Pulling open the closet doors, my grumbling grew in octaves. His clothes were here.
“Why are your clothes here?” I demanded of the closet.
“Because I live here.”
Screaming in fright as I jumped back from the closet, my hand on my chest, I whirled around to look at the face of my past. He was as tall as I remembered, his dark hair brushed back off his face, longer on top and trimmed at the side, not short, just enough to sink your hands into and…tug. Clear blue eyes that stood out against his tanned face met mine, the usual spark of amusement shining brightly in them. His nose was still perfectly straight. The lips, twisted in a familiar smirk as he looked back at me, were full and inviting.
“No.” I was already wagging my head back and forth as I looked at him and saw him take a casual glance up and down my body. “You don’t.”
His head cocked to the side. “And how would you know if I did or if I didn’t?”
I almost bit. I almost snapped at him. But I wasn’t an insecure girl anymore, I was an adult. Turning from the knowing gaze, I swept my gaze over the room.
He totally lived here. “How long have you stayed here with Donna?” I asked, forcing myself to keep my tone neutral.
“You want coffee?” He was already walking away, heading to the stairs.
“No,” I growled as I moved quickly to the doorway and saw he was at the top of the stairs. “I want answers.”
As he looked back at me, the smirk became a snarl. “Don’t we all, peaches.”
“Do not call me peaches!” I yelled as he began to disappear from sight down the stairs. “Ethan!” I flinched as I yelled. His name, which had been so hard to say for so long, was now burning my tongue in temper. Hurrying after him, I yelled again. “Ethan!”
Two steps down, he was leaning against the wall, head tilted back, eyes on me, waiting. Waiting for the next move.
Pulling up hard, I felt like I had run a marathon, while he stood and appraised me coolly. “Why are you here?” I asked him again. “Really, why?”
Ethan once again looked me up and down. My jeans were slim fitting, my shirt a simple fitted white cotton one with the sleeves rolled up in a tasteful, casual way.
“Your hair’s longer, peaches.”
Self-consciously I tugged at my blonde hair in its ponytail. “Your ability to not answer a question is the same. And you call me that stupid nickname one more time, and you’ll be sorry.”
Ethan’s eyebrows rose and fell quickly as he shrugged. “So you say.” Pushing himself off the wall, he descended the stairs. “I’m making coffee.”
Tilting my head back on my shoulders, I stared at the ceiling for a moment before I took a deep breath. I could do this. I taught kids for goodness sake. This was nothing, I assured myself as I followed him down.
In the kitchen, he already had the coffee pot on and was in the cupboard taking out mugs.
“You’re still familiar,” I commented quietly as I took a seat at the breakfast counter. A grunt was my answer. “Milly stocked the fridge for me,” I started but stopped when I heard his huff of laughter. “Did I say something funny?”
Ethan shook his head as he looked out the kitchen window, over the ranch. “Nope.”
He popped the p, and I wanted to pop him in the mouth. “You seem to find it funny,” I persisted as I narrowed my eyes at him.
Ethan turned to face me, and I straightened in my seat as he regarded me soberly. “Why are you here, pea—” He saw my glare. “Peyton?”
“Why am I here?” I asked him incredulously. “Donna died.”
“I’m aware,” he snarked back at me as he turned back to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.
“It’s not ready—”
