Peyton shook her head. “I can’t make any sense out of it.”
Remy waved at the smoke, moving it toward Peyton. “I get why Boone’s concerned, because he’s worried about you, but still, who in the hell would be trying to hurt you?”
“I have no idea,” Peyton said. “Boone thinks it has to do with my past, but I’m telling you, my life in Seattle was so normal. It’s gotta have to do with someone here.”
“Like some sicko serial killer or something?” Remy asked.
Peyton shrugged again. “That seems more plausible, even if it’s still totally mind-blowing, than it being about something to do with my past.”
Remy waved the smoke faster in Peyton’s direction.
Peyton chuckled. “Thanks.”
“You need it,” Remy said seriously.
Kinsley dropped back down on the mattress. “God, maybe we’ve met this guy.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Peyton said, scrunching her nose against the overwhelming aroma. “I hope they find out who did this quick. I hate that I had to keep the shop closed today.” Which had been a decision that she’d come to after her talk with Boone last night. Her safety had to be more important than her new business, as much as that frustrated her.
“It sucks hard,” Kinsley said with sympathy. “But it’s the right thing to do, especially if Boone is feeling uneasy about it all. His instincts usually aren’t wrong.”
Peyton sighed. She moved to Stoney Creek to get away from dark times, not find even darker ones. “It just feels so weird because I have no control over any of this. All I can do is sit here and hope that either Boone’s wrong or he catches the person before anything else bad happens.” She hesitated, trying not to let panic take her away. “It’s not very settling.”
“Don’t you worry, babe,” Kinsley said with a smile, and patted Peyton’s arm. “I haven’t seen Boone in full protective and determination mode in a long time. This morning he was very serious. He’ll get this solved fast.”
Peyton smiled. That’s what made Boone, Boone.
Suddenly, Kinsley’s expression began to change, filling with an emotion Peyton did not recognize from her. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Kinsley glanced at Remy. “Can you give us a couple minutes alone?”
“Sure,” Remy said with a nod, then turned to Peyton. “I’m going to go make you a bergamot tea. I can read your tea leaves after and see what comes of that.”
“Thanks.” Peyton smiled, pretty damn sure no tea would help her. When Remy left, Peyton took in Kinsley’s concerned eyes. “Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”
Kinsley drew in a long, deep breath. She looked at her hands and when she looked up again, guilt hardened her face. “I did something that I hope isn’t going to make you mad, because I want you to know that’s the very last thing I would have ever wanted to do.”
Peyton went still. “Okay, what did you do?”
A beat. “I slept with Justin.”
“My Justin?” Peyton gasped.
Kinsley winced. “I freakin’ hope he’s not your Justin, or this is going to become way more complicated.”
Peyton flicked her hand, shaking her head. “God, no, he’s not my Justin. But I mean, Justin from Seattle?” With all that happened yesterday, she completely forgot that she was supposed to meet him for a drink.
Kinsley shifted against the bed, pulling up her legs under her and nodded tightly. “Yeah, that Justin.” Her guarded eyes finally settled on Peyton. “Do you hate me?”
Peyton stared at Kinsley, her amazing new friend, for what felt like a full minute, until she finally shook her head. “No, of course I don’t hate you. I guess you saw him at the bar last night?”
Kinsley gave a tight nod. “Yeah, he came in last night. He was planning on taking the red-eye.” A pause. Then Kinsley nibbled her lip, her shoulders curling. “He kinda, well, sorta missed his flight last night because he was in my bed.”
Peyton couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing.
Kinsley’s eyes went huge, cheeks flushed pink. “Well, that certainly wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, but I guess it’s better than a punch to the nose.”
Peyton laughed a little longer, then forced herself to stop. “Honestly, Kinsley”—she took Kinsley’s hand and squeezed, seeing the obvious guilt in Kinsley’s expression—“I’m sleeping with your brother. Why would you think I’d be upset about Justin?”