by Rachel Hanna
“A lot of people seem to think so.”
“Well, if I help you with this shirt, you have to promise to play me a song once you’re out of this sling. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll even sing too.”
“Are you a good singer?”
He laughed. “I can carry a tune.” It was like he had some kind of inside joke that she didn’t understand, and not wanting to look stupid, she didn’t dig further.
“Well, good. I can’t wait to critique you.” She pulled the hole down around his head, her fingers grazing the edge of his stubble. She wanted to linger there, to feel if it was prickly or soft, but thought better of it.
He carefully lifted his hurt arm into the shirt first, his hand catching along the way. For a moment, all she could hear was her breathing, deep and ragged, and his seemed to match. Probably from the pain of lifting his arm, she convinced herself.
“Critique me?” he said softly as she held the shirt out for his other arm. She could feel his breath across her cheek, and it was blowing a stray strand of her hair slightly.
“I love music.”
“What kind?” he asked, as she finally finished pulling his shirt down. Over rock solid abs, her fingers purposely grazing the crevices of each indentation in hopes that he didn’t notice.
“I told you last night. Classical.”
She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like he grunted.
“Not a fan?” she asked with a laugh.
“Never really got into that,” he said, as she helped him put the sling back on. “You like country?”
“Yuck. No thanks. Nothing but songs about heartbreak and people dying.”
“But elevator music is better? Classical sounds like music you’d hear at the grocery store. Or in a funeral parlor.”
She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Don’t tick off your driver, Sawyer.”
He smiled. “Fine. We can table this discussion for now.”
After a few moments, they made their way out the door. Laura helped Sawyer into her small car.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Just take Main Street down past the ferry dock and go right. The therapy office is a few miles from there.”
At first they rode in silence, and Laura wasn’t sure what to say. Small talk had never been her strong suit.
“Cats or dogs?” Sawyer suddenly asked.
“What?”
“Do you like cats or dogs?”
“Dogs. In fact, I have a little doggie. He’s currently living with my best friend back in Baltimore, until I get a permanent place here in January Cove.”
“Name?”
She sighed and then laughed. “Rigoletto.”
“Riggo…what?”
“Rigoletto. It’s an opera by Verde. Based on a play by Victor Hugo…” she said, as if she was trying to jog his memory. “You’ve never heard of it?”
“Um, no. We don’t get into stuff like that ‘round these parts, ma’am,” he said in a fake, thick Southern accent that sounded nothing like his own easy way of talking.
“Very funny.”
“What’s it about?”
“Do you really want to know or are you being sarcastic?”
“I really want to know. It would do me good to learn something new.”
“Well, it’s an opera in three acts. I think it first opened in eighteen fifty-one. It’s a tragic tale with secrets and seduction and a curse and even assassins.”
“Wow. Maybe I need to see that one.”
“Really?” she asked, turning her head just long enough to see him watching her intently.
“I might need a beer first. And a translation guide. And some caffeine. And toothpicks to hold up my eyelids. But yeah, I’d let you take me to that.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Take you? To an opera? Just me and you?”
“Well, I don’t think anyone else would want to go. And I don’t think they would allow your dog to come, right?”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t know anywhere that even puts on Rigoletto around here. I think you’re safe.”
“Turn here,” he said as they made their way down the road. She pulled into the parking lot and found a space as close to the front door as she could. “Well, for what it’s worth, I would go just to see your eyes light up watching it. This is the first time I’ve seen you really get excited about something.”
Her heart clenched. “You haven’t really known me very long.”
He leaned in and spoke softly. “I’ve known you long enough to know that you deserve to being doing more than just living someone else’s dreams, Laura.”
She froze in place, her face just inches from his. “Um…”
“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his breath literally lapping at her lips.
“Ready? For what?” she asked, her breath ragged and strained.
“For my therapy appointment?” he responded with a smile as he leaned back. Oh, this guy knew just what he was doing. Laura pursed her lips.
“Of course,” she said several octaves higher than her normal voice. “Why wouldn’t I be? Let me come around and open your door.”
After helping him out of the car - without touching him any more than she had to - she pulled his crutches from the back seat and helped him get steady.
“I’ll be out here when you’re finished,” she said, shutting the passenger door.
“I thought you might come inside with me?” he asked, smiling and shrugging his shoulders.
“Sawyer, you don’t need me in there.”
“Moral support?”
She stood there with her hands on her hips before finally relenting to his request. “Fine. But don’t embarrass me.”
Going to physical therapy with Sawyer had turned out to be very eye-opening. His pain was a lot worse than she had imagined. The therapist had worked with him for almost an hour, pulling his arm in different directions and stretching out the muscle.
He had also talked about doing something called dry needling, which didn't sound at all pleasant in Laura's mind. She felt very sorry for him, especially knowing that she had caused the pain he was currently in.
The good news was that he would be out of the sling in just a few days. They were also able to prescribe something for the pain and to help loosen up his muscles. Thankfully, it wasn't anything addictive and he would only have to take it for a week or two.
"Thanks again for bringing me to my therapy appointment. I know you'll be busy opening your store in another few days, so I'll catch a ride from somebody for my other appointments.”
Laura helped him into the car, sliding his crutches into the back seat and shutting the door. "No, I don't mind at all. I'm sure that I can give you a ride the next time too.”
She walked around and slipped behind the driver's seat, shutting her door. Before she cranked the car, she glanced over at Sawyer who was looking at her and smiling.
"What?"
"Did you think we would end up actually being friends after the way that we met?"
Laura laughed. “Is that what we are? We’re friends?"
He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. "You don't think we’re friends?"
"I guess so. I just don't know you very well yet."
"Well, let's remedy that. How about some lunch?"
"Lunch?"
"Yes, it's the meal after breakfast and before supper."
"Ha ha. You're a regular comedian. I guess we could go grab some lunch."
"See? Lunch is something that friends do." Sawyer laughed as they drove down the road in search of a great place to eat.
A few minutes later they pulled into one of the most popular restaurants in town, Zach’s. Sawyer seemed really happy to be able to eat there. According to him, they had the best chili cheese fries he'd ever had in his life.
Laura was excited to learn a little bit more about him. He seemed kind of mysterious, like he was hiding something from his past or maybe even his presen
t. Of course, she had no idea what that could be.
Seemed like everybody in town knew him but he had grown up there so that was nothing unusual. And everyone seemed to like him, so she didn’t think he had some kind of sordid past. Maybe she would get around to asking somebody about him, but that seemed almost a little bit stalker-ish and she didn't want to come off as even being interested in him.
"I'm so happy to be able to eat here again. It's been many years since I've gotten to come to Zach’s.” Sawyer took a long sip of his sweet tea. “We used to eat here after every football game in high school. See those pictures on the wall? I bet you’ll find a few of me and Brad, and maybe Jackson too.”
“Everything on the menu looks really good,” she said as she stared at all of the choices.
"So, tell me more about yourself, Laura. What was your life like back in Baltimore?"
She thought for a moment about what to say. Should she tell the truth? Should she make it sound better than it really was? But she decided that if they really were going to be friends – and she definitely needed more friends in January Cove – that she should probably be as honest as possible.
"Well, I was married for a long time and now I'm divorced. I worked at a marketing company, but it turned out to be just about the most boring job in the world. My best friend and I have known each other since we were in elementary school. And you know about my mother and my dog. So… that's about it."
Sawyer smiled. "I have a feeling there's a lot more to you than meets the eye."
"I have the same feeling about you," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"Oh really? I assure you there is not a whole lot more here than meets the eye.” He smiled that lopsided grin, and she wondered for a moment if he’d notice her putting the side of her cold drinking glass across her forehead.
The server interrupted them to get their food order. Of course, Sawyer took that chance to order chili cheese fries. Laura got a club sandwich, but fully planned to sample his food when it arrived.
"Okay then. Tell me more about yourself. Before you came back to January Cove, where were you living?" she asked.
He seemed to fidget around in his seat, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable. She already knew that much about him. "Well, I was a struggling musician in Nashville."
"Nashville? I've never been there but I've heard great things about it. Struggling? What does that mean exactly?"
"Well, let's just say that the people out there didn't want to make the same kind of music I do."
"Country, you mean?"
"Not exactly. I like country, but I just wanted to be a little more progressive. Maybe a little too controversial for that scene."
She could tell he was being evasive and that he was highly uncomfortable with the conversation, but she didn't know why. It just didn't make any sense to her that this guy, who was really friendly with her, didn't want to tell her anything about his recent past.
"So, where does that leave you now? Did you just come back here to visit your friends?"
"Sort of. You know, sometimes you just need to go home to recharge your batteries. I'm not sure what the future holds, but I know that music will be involved."
"Well, I can't wait to hear you play and sing. I bet you're really good."
He took another sip of his tea. “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
"So you know it will involve music, but are you saying you might not go back to Nashville?"
"Possibly. I just haven't made that decision yet. Sometimes, life feels like there's a fork in the road and you have to make a decision. I'm just not sure what decision I'll make yet. Know what I mean?”
“Um, remember I’m here to chase my dead mother’s dreams, so I understand making a tough decision at a fork in the road.” Sawyer laughed at that.
They continued chatting about random things, mostly gossip around town. Sawyer filled her in on all of the major players in the Parker family as well as some other people throughout the town that she needed to know. He encouraged her to make friends with Rebecca, who owned the coffee shop called Jolt. Rebecca was dating Jackson Parker, the eldest child of the Parker family and the one who had taken care of his siblings after their father died when they were young.
They talked about the area, its history and a lot of other surface things that, although important for her to know, didn't really get to the root of who Sawyer was. But she decided not to pull on that string any more than she had to. The guy was obviously uncomfortable and she wasn't going to push it. She knew how that felt – being pushed when you aren’t ready to do something or talk about something.
"So, Laura, I've been thinking about something. I want to make you an offer."
"An offer? Why do I not like the sound of this?" she laughed.
"I think you'll like this offer. I appreciate you taking me to physical therapy, so I want to return the favor."
"Favor? I hit you with my car. I think that I owed you at least that. I think we should also stop keeping score because this is getting confusing."
He smiled that crooked smile, one dimple appearing on the corner of his mouth and making her stomach flip-flop. Since it was full of chili fries that she had stolen from his plate, that wasn't a good thing.
"Here's what I'm offering. Since I have nothing else to do, I would like to help you at your bakery when it opens."
She was impressed by his kind gesture, but had to wonder how a one armed, one legged man was going to help her open what would hopefully be a very busy bakery.
"Do you think that you're in any position to do that?" she asked in the nicest way she knew how.
"Are you saying that I'm unable to work? I've got one arm and I'm sure you have a stool. Let me at least help by bringing people food or putting stuff in bags. I'm going crazy sitting in my house all the time. I'm not used to all of this down time. It would really be doing me a service.”
She sat for a moment and thought about his offer. She really could use the help since she had no money to hire anyone right now. She wanted to keep as much of the money that she'd left Baltimore with, and the money from the house hadn't come through fully yet. So, having a little bit of free help would be a godsend right now, even if he might not be back to 100%.
"All right then. I will gladly accept the help."
"Great! So what time would you like me to arrive for work tomorrow, boss?"
"How about 8 AM?"
"Sounds good to me. Of course, that means you have to pick me up at 7:45 tomorrow, right?" he said with a laugh.
"Are you going to make this a habit? Of me being your taxi service?"
"Maybe so."
Chapter 7
After they finished eating, Laura insisted on paying the check. After all, she knew that running into him with her car had probably caused him some medical bills that exceeded his insurance. He argued at first, insisting that the man was supposed to pay, but she finally convinced the chivalrous Southern man that they weren’t on a date so that rule didn’t apply.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm going to need to see your driver's license also." The server stood by the table, blonde hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail. She watched to see if Sawyer would look at the woman, who was obviously gorgeous and made straight from the hands of God, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, she noticed him looking at her driver's license as she laid it on the table.
The waitress walked away with the license and the credit card. "I wrote on the back that they should check my license, just so no one could forge my signature. Had someone fraudulently use my card a couple of years ago.“
"You're a very careful type of person aren’t you, Laura?" he asked with a quirk of a smile.
"I guess so. It's served me well over the years though," she insisted.
"Has it? Really?"
"Don't start an argument, Sawyer. We had such a nice lunch together."
"I'm not trying to start an argument. I'm just asking if being so safe all the time has really served you
well? I mean, have you done all the things in your life that you want to do?"
"What kind of a question is that? Of course I haven't. No one has."
"True. We should all have goals for every stage of life, but do you really think that being safe all the time is going to allow you to achieve your dreams?"
"I don't know. My ex-husband used to say something similar. So does my best friend. I guess I just like knowing that whatever I'm about to do it's going to be the right thing, so sometimes I get paralyzed by thinking about it all and I don't make any moves."
"I noticed something on your driver's license."
"That is my real weight! I did not lie on my driver’s license. I probably put on a couple of pounds since I came to town…"
"Relax, Laura! I wasn't talking about your weight. I was talking about your birthday. Do you realize that you’re six months older than me?"
“I am? But, I thought…"
“That I was older than you? "
"Kind of…" she smiled sheepishly.
"It's okay. I choose to believe that all the smiling I do causes these little lines around my eyes, so I don't mind them much." He pointed to the beginnings of crow’s feet on his face.
She stared for a moment at the crow’s feet that were just starting to form on the edges of his eyes. They were handsome and sexy and rugged and everything about them was great. And she definitely needed to go take a cold shower.
Sawyer stood at the kitchen counter of the small beach cottage he was renting, leaning against the granite countertops and trying to steady himself. "Look, I realize they don't like that I've walked away from my whole life there, but I'm not going to make music that I don't like. I'm just not that kind of person. I'm sure they can find someone on one of those reality TV talent shows who will replace me in a heartbeat, but I just don't have any interest in coming back anytime soon."
"Man, if you don't come back soon, you are going to lose everything you worked so hard for. I don’t get it. What's wrong with you? You can't just walk away from all of this. You have fans…"
"I appreciate my real fans, but the ones who are flaky and fair weather and didn't like my latest album? I don't think those are really my fans. I don't think I really fit into that scene. Fame just isn't for me."