Page 82 of Keepsakes and Kismet

I groan and grab a clean cloth napkin from the picnic basket, wiping into my jeans as best as I can before nudging her backward. “Lie down with me.”

She snuggles closer, and I reach around her to rub her back in lazy circles. Then, I run my fingers through her hair, idly twirling the ends.

“How are we feeling, Pey?”

“We’re feeling perfect. I’ve never felt better, actually.”

The surroundings seem to come back into focus when we both look at the screen. I’m shocked to find we’re already near the end of the movie. Harry’s giving his big speech to Sally at the New Year’s Eve party, and the countdown begins.

Even though we’re in the back of the field, away from the other cars, we hear distant voices counting down with the movie.

Peyton whirls her head toward me. “Fun fact: I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. Even I’ve had a few New Year’s kisses.”

She glares at me with mock outrage. “Who was the first? How old were you? Where? What’s her social media handle? Am I prettier and smarter than her? Do you know her favorite flower?”

The countdown hits zero, and some of the movie-goers cheer. Auld Lang Syne sings through the lot, and I face my girlfriend.

“Kelly McMann, her parents’ basement, twelve years old. I don’t have social media, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’m almost certain you’re smarter than a seventh grader. No clue what her favorite flower is, gotta be honest.”

“I guess that’s fine.” She scrunches her nose. “Damn. The countdown’s over. I missed my chance.”

“Nah, real New Year’s Eve is coming up soon enough. I’ll take care of it then.”

Peyton tilts her chin up. “I’ll still take a kiss now, though, if that’s okay.”

My heart leaps as her mouth covers mine. I gently suck on her bottom lip, then release it to ask, “What’s your favorite flower?”

Her eyes are still closed. “Hm?”

Lightly brushing my thumb up and down the column of her throat, I say, “I want to know your favorite flower.”

“I’m not really into flowers, to be honest. They die so fast, and I barely get to enjoy them. I’m a plant girl. Succulents, herbs, indoor house plants, doesn’t matter. I even have a little patio off my apartment for some sunlight.”

Another detail about her gets tucked away while I tenderly trace the line from the corner of her lip to the top of her cheekbone. “Can I run into you again?”

“When?” she asks coyly.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

Chapter 18

Peyton

“It wasn’t that big, Peyton.” Callum stops at the red light outside his parents’ neighborhood.

I blink at him. “You got me a tree, Callum.”

“Well, it’s not like a real tree, like the trees outside in the ground.”

“Tree’s literally in the name!” I throw my hands in the air, picturing the six-foot potted thing sitting in my living room right now.

Callum drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Technically, the word ‘money’ is also in the name, but you didn’t see any dollars hanging from the branches, did you?”

I exhale slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I give up. This is death by pedantry.”

“You said you liked plants. ‘Plants over flowers,’ remember?”