Page 71 of Home Game

“Your scepter,” I say instead, handing her the brass pole with what looks like a glass curtain rod finial on the end.

Drawing it to her chest, she lowers her chin and hits me with a serious stare.

“Sir Stone, I hereby knight thee,” she says, tapping each of my shoulders with the prop.

“I think I’m supposed to kneel for that,” I whisper in her ear as I lead her toward the truck.

“It’s okay because this is pretend. You aren’t really a knight,” she teases.

“Hey, Wyatt. I’m Dale,” a towering man says as he climbs out of the passenger side of the fire truck and heads toward me. His handlebar mustache is thicker than Jeff’s, but the roundness of their faces and the red cheeks are family traits.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” I say, shaking his hand. He covers the back of my palm with his other hand.

“Absolutely, man. Your dad was an amazing guy. He and I went through the academy together. You ever need anything, we’ve got you, son.”

A flame fires in my chest, but it doesn’t burn. It warms me to my core, leaving behind a lightness in my heart, a strong beat in my chest as if my life was somehow renewed through this small degree of separation.

“I appreciate that, Dale. Thank you,” I say, glancing to Peyton. Her soft smile twitches, and she gives me a tiny nod.

Dale introduces us to DJ, his engineer, then leads us to the back of the truck, where a built-in ladder leads to the top. We sit in the hose bed and promise not to move while they steer the truck slowly around the town square.

“Cross our hearts,” Peyton says, gripping my hand when Dale climbs down and leaves us up top alone.

“Is the queen afraid of heights?” I tease.

“I never said I was a flyer in cheer. To be honest, I don’tloveheights,” she admits, a small tremble in her hand when the brakes release and the truck begins to roll.

“You should try climbing up a roof with Whiskey,” I laugh out.

“Just so we’re clear, I am never agreeing to an idea Whiskey has—ever.” She’s making a joke, but her nerves make her voice come out wavery and serious.

“Okay.” I chuckle, putting an arm around her and holding her tight against my side.

By the first turn, her body relaxes against me and her eyes light up. The canopy of white lights strung throughout the trees casts a warm glow on her face, her lashes like flecks of gold, her lips like candy. An older couple pulls their car over across from the town park, getting out to take photos amidst the lights.

“Happy pre-fall festival to you!” Peyton shouts from above. The couple waves as Peyton blows kisses, throwing them into the air as if she’s the goddess of rain.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

She sinks down, nestling close to me again, and resting her head on my shoulder.

“You’re the one who’s something, Wyatt Stone.”

I rub my palm along her arm, keeping her warm as we finish the last quarter turn, and I brace her for the stop.

Her smile beams all the way to my truck, where I lift her just outside the passenger door, swinging her around and holding her up so she can fly among the lights one last time before turning them off. I set her in the passenger seat as the fire truck pulls away, our hands tangled and, I think, both of us anxious to touch one another.

“Hi,” she whispers, a nervous tilt to her mouth.

“Hi,” I reply, my eyes locked on hers while our fingers slip in and out of one another’s.

She scoots to the edge of the seat, her legs wrapping around my thighs and her feet hooking behind my legs to pull me closer. I run my palms up her cheeks, then straighten her crown, my gaze drifting to hers, and then to her mouth.

“Kiss your queen,” she says, her tone teasingly demanding. It’s sexy.

“As you wish,” I say, my smile hovering over her mouth for a few extra seconds, long enough to let my gaze roam from her mouth to her chin and then the place where her legs have spread around me.

My mouth drops to hers and my hand curves around her hip to her ass, pulling her against me so she can feel what her teasing does. She unties the royal robe’s ribbon from under her neck as she slowly leans back. Her palms grasp the dash and the back ofthe seat for support and I follow, leaning over her as my teeth graze her bottom lip before breaking our kiss.

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