8. Stacey

Chapter Eight

STACEY

I wake up a few hours later, sore in all the right places, a warm body still holding me close. I melt into Peyton's hold on me as I squint at the alarm clock on my dresser across the room, but I can't quite make out the time. My contacts are super dry since I didn't get the chance to take them out earlier, and my vision is a little blurry. I know it's still the middle of the night due to the darkness outside, so I lay here, willing myself to fall back asleep.

I give it a good solid fifteen minutes without falling back to sleep before I give up and slip out of bed. Still naked from our sexy times, I find Peyton's shirt on the floor and slip it on, buttoning a few of the buttons to keep it closed. I quietly leave the room, not wanting to wake him up. I stop in the bathroom first and then pad out to the kitchen. My stomach is rumbling, so I look through the fridge for something small and easy to eat, so I can hopefully get back to sleep soon.

I pull out a yogurt container from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer, then head over to my favorite recliner by my living room window. I curl up with one of my blankets I keep out here and start eating, getting lost in watching the clouds move in the reflection of all the city's lights. My attention is pulled from the window when I hear footsteps down the hall after the toilet flushes.

"Hey, you okay?" Peyton asks, his voice sleep-filled and raspy.

"Yep, just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. Think I was just a little hungry," I tell him, holding up my now empty yogurt container for him to see.

"Come back to bed," he says, holding out a hand for me to join him. He'd slipped his boxers back on before coming out to find me, but his body is still on display for me to ogle.

I take his outstretched hand, remove the blanket that was covering me, and stand. I hear the slight hitch in his breath when he realizes I'm only wearing his shirt, and chuckle.

"Give me just a second, I need to throw this out and put the spoon in the sink."

I pop into the kitchen long enough to do those two tasks, then meet him back in my living room, slipping my hand into his as I let him lead me back to bed.

Once back in the bedroom, I unbutton the few buttons and let his shirt fall back to the floor before I slide between the sheets. Peyton climbs in on the other side and holds his arm out for me to reassume my previous position of being curled up against his side. I jump on his offer, already loving that spot. His warmth beckons me closer and I feel like his arms are where I'm meant to be.

"What are you doing tonight for dinner?" Peyton asks, after we've settled in together.

"Nothing that I know of, why?"

"Would you like to come over to my dad's place and have dinner with the two of us?"

"I'd love to. What can I bring?" I offer.

"Just your pretty little self," he says, squeezing my hip where his hand rests against my skin.

"You sure? I don't mind bringing something. I can bake some cookies, or cake, a pie, or brownies."

"I guess if you want to bring some kind of dessert, who am I to tell you no. So, pick something and bring it along, if that will make you happy."

"Any request on what I make and bring? Does your dad have a favorite dessert?"

"Nope, I'm sure anything that you make will be perfect, and Dad's not picky."

"What time should I come over?"

"Anytime this afternoon. I'll plan to have the grill going around five thirty, five forty-five at the latest. My dad likes to eat early."

"I'll plan to arrive by five. Earlier, if I get everything done before then that I need to do today."

We talk for a few more minutes before sleep claims both of us once again. I wake again a few hours later, still wrapped in Peyton's arms. For only having slept in his arms for a few hours, they make me feel so protected and at home. I've never felt so at peace and while I can't put my finger on why I'm feeling that way, I'm not going to overthink it at this point. Peyton has to go back home in a week, so I'm going to just enjoy the time we do have together.

I pull into the driveway of the address Peyton gave me for his dad's house and park behind his truck. I reach over and grab the pan of salted caramel chocolate chip cookie bars I baked this afternoon. They're one of my guilty pleasures I love to make, but don't often because I can't stop myself from eating the entire pan.

I step out of my car, pan in hand, and am hit by the incredible smells floating my way from the grill out back. I make my way up to the door and ring the bell, then wait for someone to open the door. When no one answers after a minute, I walk around the side of the house and find Peyton and his dad sitting on the back deck together.

"Hey!" I call out.

"You made it!" Peyton calls out, as he stands up and starts down the few steps to the yard to meet me. Once he's standing in front of me, he reaches out and takes the pan from my hands and then bends to brush a kiss against my cheek. "Come, I'll introduce you to my dad."

He places a hand on my lower back as he escorts me to the deck and up the stairs. "Dad, I'd like to introduce you to Stacey Evans. Stacey, this is my dad, Robert."

"So nice to meet you, sir," I say, shaking his outstretched hand.

"No need for formalities, Stacey. Please, call me Robert. And it's nice to meet you, as well. Anyone good enough for this guy to want to bring around for dinner is good in my book."

"Daaaad." Peyton groans next to me and I giggle at his reaction.

"What, son?" he asks pointedly.

"Nothing," Peyton says, shaking his head as he walks over to the grill.

"So, tell me about yourself," Robert says, as I take a seat next to him at the patio table. It's set up in one of the corners of the deck that's covered with a pergola.

"I'm a songwriter here in Nashville. I've been here since I graduated from college a handful of years ago. Born and raised in North Carolina, where my family still lives. I'm the only rebel that left to pursue my dreams."

"Pursuing your dreams is important."

"It is, and reaching so many this past year has been so amazing."

"Peyton was telling me about your success. I think it's great you've been able to accomplish so much. Takes hard work and dedication to reach the level you have. You must be proud of yourself."

"I still pinch myself occasionally to make sure this is my real life. That I really do get to go to work each day with these incredibly talented artists, and that they're seeking me out to write for them. It's still a little unreal sometimes."

"Can I get you something to drink?" Peyton asks as he comes back over to the table from the grill.

"Sure, what do you have?"

"Beer, water, lemonade, there might be a few pops in there."

"A glass of lemonade sounds perfect for now," I tell him before he disappears inside the house.

"I've never seen my boy so smitten with someone as he is with you," Robert muses, once Peyton is inside and out of earshot.

"Yeah," I concur, not knowing really how to address what this is between the two of us. We just met two days ago, yet it feels like we've known each other forever. I dread next weekend with him having to leave again. I know he'll only be just over an hour away from here, but still, it's not really feasible for one of us to be driving back and forth to see each other. Hell, I don't even know if that's something he wants to happen. He might be perfectly happy with a week-long fling and be done with me when he leaves next weekend. "It's crazy how quickly we've connected. I can't even describe it."

"Oh, I can, sweetheart. It's call fate. That boy of mine has shunned relationships practically his entire life. His mother walking out on us when he was young really did a number on him. Then, the one time he tried his hand at a relationship, and the girl he was dating did a number on him, as well. Ever since that, he's stuck to his guns that he wouldn't even consider a relationship, and now here he is, bringing you home to meet me after two days. The only girl he's ever brought home to meet me, mind you. No one in high school, no one since he's joined the military. No one. You can't tell me that fate didn't have something to do with the two of you meeting the other night."

I'm a little tongue-tied at Robert's frankness. I knew Peyton had his reservations about relationships, but to know that I'm the only girl he's ever brought home to meet his dad floors me. I figured there'd have been girls in high school, but the way it's sounding, that's not the case. I sit back in my seat and let Robert's words sink in.

"Here's your lemonade," Peyton says, "and a fresh glass of water for you, Pops."

"Thank you," I tell him, flashing him a small smile as he takes the seat next to me.

"Welcome, and your dessert looks amazing. I snuck a peek at it when I was inside. Took all my self-control to not try a piece now."

" Tsk tsk , you don't want to ruin your meal now," I tease him.

"Never." He chuckles. "The food should be done any minute. I've got steaks, and some veggies and potatoes almost done on the grill," he tells me, taking a drink from his own glass.

"It smells wonderful. The aroma hit me when I got out of my car and my stomach started growling immediately."

Peyton leans over and kisses my cheek once more before he stands up and heads over to the grill that's situated across the deck, out in the uncovered part.

"As I said, he's smitten," Robert says, low enough that only I can hear him. I do my best to hide my smile but can feel it cresting my lips as I watch Peyton's every move. He places the food on a platter and then brings it all over to the table. I help pass out the plates and utensils that are piled in the center of the table before we all fill up our plates.

We fall into a comfortable conversation while we eat, enjoying the meal Peyton prepared. It's a perfect fall evening. The weather is just right—not hot and not cold enough to drive us inside until after the sun sets.