Page 18 of A Country Kind Of Love
“Cleo...” Peyton succeeds in saying her name.
“Ya’ll know each other?”Marvin asks.
“We met earlier today.” Cleo smiles. It is the most irresistible, marry me now and impregnate me if that was even possible, kind of smile.
“Hello, again.” Cleo glances down at Peyton’s neck; she centres in on the area just above her chest. Thering. Peyton grabs the necklace and hastily tucks it into her top.
How embarrassing.
It’s not too late to fake stomach cramps and hide for the rest ofthe evening.
“Huh, what a coincidence.” Jesse smirks and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Big Mac, let’s go have a chat with Drew. We’ve got a great idea fora new song.”
Marvin looks between the two of them, folds his lips together, and nods in approval before hewalks away.
Cleo removes the cap from her head and runs her fingers through her hair. Her sex appeal is off the charts, and Peyton tries desperately not to fawn all over her. She doesn’t do that; she’s emotionally mature, stable and not influenced by a charismatic crooked smile. She will not swoon.
“So...”Cleo smirks.
“So...” Peyton takes a sip of her drink to hide the smile. She refuses to make eye contact and blush. That’s dangerous.
“You’re the hot new housemate Jessementioned.”
Hot.Does Cleo think she’s hot?
“Erm... no comment.” Peyton feels the heat charging towardsher cheeks.
“I’m sure he was pretty devastated to find out you weren’t interested.” Cleo grins. She’s teasing.
Peyton fidgets with the rim of her glass.
Cleo laughs. “You’re quiet.”
“You’re making me nervous.” Peyton regrets her words as soon as she says them. Way to scream vulnerable and introverted. She usually keeps that locked away until the fourth or fifth date, not that this is a date. She knows it isn’t, but—the nerves.
“I’m sorry,” Cleo says.
Why are you sorry? Because you’re so captivating? Peyton feels like she might suffocate if she looks at her cheekbones and her hypnotic gazeany longer.
“Can you play?” Peyton points towards the guitar tattooed on the insideof her arm.
“Yes. Can you?”
“I play a little, but the piano is more my forte.”
How are Cleo’s lips so soft? She stares intently. There isn’t a single crack, crease, or dry spot; they’re soft and plump, and she is totally not picturing how they’d feel against hers. That would be weird.
“I heard.”Cleo pouts.
“You did?”
“There’s a group chat for these Friday night events, and I happened to be added in the midst of your arrival. We heard a lot about you the first couple of days.” She chuckles.
“Oh... man. Should Ibe worried?”
Peytonhatesbeing the centre of attention. The thought of being subject matter makes her want to crawl into the rat-infested garbage chute and tumble all the way tothe bottom.
“Jesse’s exact words were, ‘She plays the piano like she’s plugged into it; it’s magical’.”
