Vengeful Vows. Yvonne Lindsay
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“I’ll go with the Irish whiskey cream on ice.”
She watched him as he moved to the small bar off to one side of the covered patio. All his movements were inherently masculine yet graceful at the same time. Her insides clenched on an unexpected wave of need. No matter how sternly she spoke to herself, it seemed her body had a completely different agenda.
Staring at the sea was infinitely safer than staring at her husband, so she turned her gaze back to the water. The clink of ice against the side of a glass heralded his return.
“Tell me more about you,” Galen said as he handed her a drink, then pulled a chair up close to hers and sat.
All she had to do was point her toes and she’d be touching him, she realized as she accepted the glass. It would take a minimum of effort to run her foot up his calf, then higher still. She curled her bare toes tight against the warm tiled floor of the patio before she could act on her imagination.
“What do you want to know?” she hedged before taking a sip of her drink.
“Where did you grow up?”
This could be tricky and potentially lead her into a discussion she wasn’t ready to have. “Oh, California for a bit, then Oregon.”
“I grew up in California, too, not far from Santa Barbara. You?”
“Oh, nowhere near there,” she lied. “Is everyone in your family expected to work for the Horvath Corporation?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Not necessarily, but we all benefit from the company’s successes, so it makes sense to contribute to them, too. Some of my cousins work in other fields, though, like Dani. She’s a vet in Ojai. But you were supposed to be telling me about yourself.”
Peyton had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry, I have a habit of taking charge of conversations. Occupational hazard.”
She’d gone too far, too quickly, and hastened to lighten the mood before he closed up on her completely.
“You have a big family. Have you all always been close? I can’t imagine what that’s like. Part of me envies you. The other part shrinks in horror at the thought of having to share everything with everyone and not having privacy.”
Galen laughed. She liked the sound and wanted to make him laugh more. “Well, the only thing, or person, we ever had to share was Nagy, and our grandfather, too, when he was alive. We all lived fairly close to one another, so it was normal for us to cross each other’s paths at school or be on the same sports teams. Every Sunday Nagy had an open invitation for everyone to come and visit and eat with her. Still does. It’s always slightly chaotic, but it’s good to be together when we can attend—to be around the people you know will always have your back, no matter what.”
“That must be nice,” Peyton said with a touch of envy.
It was one thing to grow up with privilege like Galen had, but another to have that close sense of family, too. Her father had alienated his own family in the early years of his marriage to her mom, who had in turn been disowned for marrying him. Once her mom was gone there had only been the two of them. Her father’s bitterness about the circumstances of his life had made him a hard man to live with. Happiness didn’t come easily to him even now. Peyton had always hoped that she’d get glimpses of the man he’d used to be before he was let go from Horvath Corporation. The one who’d played with her before dinner and tucked her into bed at night. But after her mother’s diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, he’d changed. He’d become intense and driven and distant—and he’d never shaken those traits off since. His bitterness had become such an intrinsic part of him she’d almost forgotten the lighthearted man he’d been so long ago.
“Deep in thought?” Galen prompted her.
“Yeah, not good ones, either. My upbringing was very different from yours. My mom became ill when I was still in elementary school. It changed things at home. Then when we moved to Oregon she got worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
His simple words, genuinely spoken, struck at her heart. He was a good man. Empathetic without being intrusive.
“It was all a long time ago. I coped.”
“So what made you want to be a journalist?”
She laughed. “I used to drive my parents nuts by always wanting to know the why of everything. That need to know and expose everything at its root has never left me.”
“That would explain your interrogation style,” he teased.
“Hey, I apologized for that.”
“No problem. It’s good for people to be passionate about what they do.”
Passionate. She could so easily be passionate about him. He was a good listener, all too easy on the eye, and he made her want to do things with him she hadn’t done in a long time. Her relationships with men were usually short-lived. She didn’t give a lot of herself. Physically, sure, no problem, but she wasn’t into emotions. And yet, with Galen, she’d already begun to run the gamut of them. She’d expected this to be a very personal assignment and she’d taken strength from the fact that she’d never had trouble keeping her mind on the job before. But there was something about Galen that all too easily distracted her.
She swirled the melting ice in her drink then lifted the glass to her lips to finish it off. “Well, I’m feeling tired. I think it’s time to call it a night.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks for helping me unwind. I appreciate it.”
“It was a tough day?”
“Yeah, but tomorrow’s all about you guys. We’d better get some sleep so we can make the most of it.”
“Good idea. What were you thinking for tomorrow?”
“Not sure. Maybe we can let Ellie plan the day.”
“She’d like that.”
They both stood and Peyton took their empty glasses to the kitchen.
“Leave it,” he said, following her. “We do have staff.”
“I know, but I’ll never get used to people picking up after me. It was drilled into me from an early age to take responsibility for myself. It stuck.”
She rinsed the glasses and put them in the dishwasher.
“Good night,” she said as she straightened from the dishwasher and started to leave the kitchen.
“Yeah, see you in the morning.”
As she passed close by him, she caught the faint scent of his cologne and felt her body react to it. That all-too-familiar tingling in her muscles. The hyperawareness of his proximity. All she had to do was stop in her tracks and turn and face him and she had no doubt he’d do the rest. Instead, she kept walking until she reached her room. Her heart pounded in her chest as she closed the door and leaned against it, trying to understand his effect