by Rachel Hanna
Even as he said it, he was surprised to hear it come out of his mouth. He’d never said that before. He had enjoyed being famous at the beginning, but it got old really fast.
Not being able to walk around outside without someone taking his picture or asking for selfie. Not being able to take a woman out to a restaurant and have a decent meal because he was constantly being bombarded with people asking for autographs.
The money had been good, and he enjoyed his true fans for a time. But Sawyer was realizing that he wanted to go back to his regular life. His simple life. His life in January Cove.
The only problem was he didn't know where he fit into the world anymore. He loved music. Singing. Playing his guitar. Those were all things he couldn’t live without. They were like breathing to him. But he didn’t know how to incorporate those into January Cove. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed of the music world.
What was he supposed to do now? Play at the local coffee shop on Friday nights? He needed something to do, something that would bring in an income and allow him to still express his love of music.
Nashville had been a wonderful place, a place he would always call his second home. But making music to someone else's standards just didn't work for him. He had been a highly trained musician, and he wanted to be able to use those skills and talents in a way that felt natural and authentic to him.
Dylan had been his best friend in Nashville, and he had tried repeatedly now to talk Sawyer into coming back. Giving it another chance. Maybe finding a different agent or recording label. But Sawyer wasn't swayed. The longer he remained in January Cove, the more he felt attached to it again.
It was funny, really. All of the years of growing up in January Cove had made him want to leave. To pursue bigger dreams in bigger places with bigger people. But in the end, all he really wanted to do was come back home and live a simpler life, playing his guitar and singing to people who cared.
The thing was, he had plenty of money to basically retire and stay in January Cove if he wanted to, but twiddling his thumbs wasn’t what he wanted to do either.
And if he was honest with himself, he wanted to get to know Laura Bennett more. He wanted to find out about her, and all the emotional traumas she’d been through in her life. Find out what was at the core of her being. Touch her with his music. See her succeed in her bakery.
And he didn’t know why he cared so damn much about someone he just met.
What he did know was that he’d never felt this way about a woman so soon. He'd never felt like he needed to stay close and spend more time with a woman he just met, especially one who had almost killed him with her car.
Even though he was in pain, every time he thought about the fact that they’d met that way, it made him smile. He could see thirty years into the future, telling their grandchildren the story.
"Dude? Are you even listening to me?"
Dylan shattered his happy thoughts of sitting on a porch swing with Laura decades in the future while the grandchildren ran through the front yard hunting Easter eggs or picking berries from their fruit trees.
"Yes, I'm listening to you. I always listen to you. And we’ll be buddies for the rest of our lives, Dylan. But, I don't think I'm coming back to Nashville."
"You know I love you, man, but I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life. You’re letting go of something that you worked so hard to build, and I just think you're going to come to regret it."
Sawyer thought for a moment, but he definitely believed that Dylan was wrong about that. In fact, coming home to January Cove had been the only decision in his entire life that he was one-hundred percent sure was right.
"I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Sawyer ended the call and thought about the situation with Laura. She had no idea who he was. She wasn't a fan of country music, and so far he’d been able to keep his identity under wraps.
He was never really sure why he was doing it. At first, he didn't want some crazed fan following him around town but then when he realized that she didn’t like country music and didn't know who he was, it felt nice. It felt good to have someone like him for just who he was. Not because of his fame. Not because of his money. Not even because he was one of the most popular guys in January Cove. Just because he was Sawyer.
At least he thought that she liked him. He had no idea what this woman was feeling. There’d been a moment in the car, a moment where he struggled not to just lean over and kiss her full on the mouth. He wasn't sure if she felt the same or was just uncomfortable that this creepy guy she barely knew was leaning in so close to her.
She was a hard one to figure out, a puzzle he wanted to solve.
He knew what he had to do, and it would take some maneuvering around town. But he had to make sure that everyone who knew Laura and knew him would keep his secret for the short term. He'd eventually tell her, and hope that she wasn't mad at him for keeping such a secret. But for now he just wanted to be Sawyer, not Sawyer the mega country music superstar.
He just wanted to be a man who was attracted to a woman and wanted to see where it would go without any complications.
Surely, that had to work.
"So let me get this straight. You want me to not tell Laura Bennett that you’re a famous country music singer?" Addison said as Sawyer sat on the other side of the table with a pleading look on his face. Clay leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.
"Man, you know this is never going to work. This is going to blow up in your face," Clay said. "Secrets always have a way of doing that." He looked over at Addison who nodded knowingly. Sawyer didn't know exactly what that was about.
"I know it won't work long-term. I'm just asking you to temporarily not tell her. Of course, if she asks you, then I don't expect you to lie. Just don't offer up the information, okay?" Thankfully, Laura was across the street at the bakery getting things set up for opening day.
"Fine. I'll do what you ask, but not for long. She deserves to know, especially if you to end up getting involved,” Addison said.
"Getting involved? I highly doubt that. I don't even think she's interested in me."
"Are you kidding me? Of course she is. It's written all over her face every time you’re around each other. It makes me want to spray air freshener when you to leave because it's so thick in the room."
Little Anna Grace came running into the room at that point, screeching about something and giggling. Clay and Addison were immediately distracted by the cuteness of their daughter. And it gave Sawyer a reason to leave.
"If you’d do me a favor and let the rest of the Parkers know, especially your brother Brad, I'd appreciate it. Kind of hard to get around town on these things,” he said, holding one crutch in the air.
"Brad? I can't promise anything with him," Addison said laughing.
"Just do the best you can. I owe you one," Sawyer said, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head before maneuvering his way back outside on his crutches.
As soon as he hit the door, he saw Laura walking across the street, looking exhausted.
“Wow. You look like you could use a break," he said. It was almost dinnertime, and Laura's business was opening the next morning. Sawyer had been helping her for the last couple of days, mainly just getting things set up in the bakery. He wasn't much help, although he was finally able to stop wearing his sling for a few hours at a time now that the medication was helping to loosen his muscles.
But still, being on crutches really hampered him from doing a whole lot, including lifting heavy stuff around the bakery.
"I am very tired," she said, slumping down onto the top step in front of the inn.
"Can I interest you in some dinner?" he asked with a hopeful smile.
"Dinner? I don't know about that. I really don't feel like getting all freshened up to go out to a restaurant tonight, but thanks for the offer."
"No, I mean if I cooked dinner for you?"
Laura looked surprised. "You cook?"
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br /> "Well, I try. I make a mean hamburger and homemade french fries. How do you feel about that?"
"That sounds heavenly right now. Let me at least go brush through my hair and we can leave."
As she walked in the house, Sawyer sat outside and wondered what in the world he was getting himself into. Maybe Dylan was right. He’d just given up a lucrative career doing the very thing he loved to come home to a small town and find a woman that was making him quiver on the inside.
But for once, he was leaping out into the unknown without a plan whatsoever. And he had no idea how this whole thing was going to end.
When they arrived at Sawyer's house, Laura was uneasy. What is she getting herself into? She was already busy trying to open her bakery and figure out ways that she could live out her mother's dreams, so what in the world was she doing having dinner with this man that she was extremely attracted to?
It just seemed like a bad idea. After all, he was probably only in town for a short time trying to figure himself out. Trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. Licking his wounds from being a failed music artist.
She just didn't know if she had time for this, but she so wanted to be in the presence of a man who was interested in her. Someone who asked her questions and really cared about the answers. Someone with the jaw line that looked like it could cut glass and steely blue eyes that made her want to melt.
"The burgers should be done in a few minutes," Sawyer said as he flopped down into the armchair next to where she was sitting on the sofa.
"How's your arm?" she asked, pointing to his injured arm that no longer had the sling.
"Good. I've been doing the exercises that the therapist showed me and taking my muscle relaxant, so it seems to be helping a lot. When you open tomorrow, I might actually be able to use two hands. That's progress!"
“Well, I also know what that means."
"What does it mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It means that you can play your guitar for me after dinner, right? You promised."
"He smiled.
"I'd be delighted to. It's been a long time since I've been able to play."
"How long?"
"Since you hit me with your car," he said with a laugh.
Dinner conversation had been light and easygoing, much like lunch. Sawyer had asked her a lot of questions about her job and why she found it so boring. She asked him about growing up in January Cove all those years ago.
“Those burgers were amazing,” Laura said, leaning back in her chair and toying with the idea of unbuttoning the top of her capri pants. She thought better of it, not wanting to forget and lose her pants when she stood up next.
“Thank you. It’s the one thing my father taught me that I still use in my life,” he said with an ironic laugh.
“You didn’t have a good relationship with your father?” Laura took a sip of the sweet tea he’d made, and it was more like syrup than the tea she was used to up North. Still, it was growing on her already.
“No, not really. When I was a little kid, it was okay, but he was never really interested in being a Dad, ya know? He was more interested in women. Lots and lots of women. Mainly younger ones. My mother died when I was in preschool, so I don’t really remember her, but I remember my father just bringing woman after woman home.”
“I’m sorry. Is he still alive?”
“I guess so. Honestly, I don’t know. He got married three times before I made it to high school. Then he decided to follow a woman out to Arizona and left me here with my great aunt. Thank God, because she was an amazing woman, and it allowed me to stay here in January Cove.”
“When’s the last time you heard from him?”
His jaw clenched a bit, and Laura could tell she’d struck a nerve. “Years ago.”
She decided to let it go. “So, cowboy, are you ready to play for me?”
“Cowboy?”
“I don’t know. Sounded good in my head,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’m so tired.”
“I bet you are. Listen, we can do this another night. You don’t have to sit here and listen to me play. You need to get back to Addy’s and get some sleep.”
Laura looked down at her watch. It was only seven-thirty, and she knew if she went back now, she’d just end up watching Netflix for a few hours instead of sleeping. She was far too excited and anxious about her opening the next morning.
“No, I really want to hear you. If you don’t mind, that is?”
“Of course I don’t mind. Music notes run through these veins,” he said, holding out his forearm. She noticed the thick veins, so masculine and strong. Ted never had veins like that. Even his veins were wimpy, she thought.
Sawyer stood and walked to the corner, picking up his guitar, before returning to the arm chair next to the sofa. The sun was starting to make its descent outside, with wisps of yellow and orange peeking through the partially opened mini blinds.
Without a word, he started playing the guitar. It took him a moment to situate himself so that he didn’t strain his vulnerable arm, but once he got going, he was amazing. Laura stared at him in awe, amazed at his technique. She knew next to nothing about playing the guitar, but he seemed to be an expert at it.
He didn’t look at her, instead staring down at his hands and then closing his eyes as if he and the instrument were involved in some intimate dance and she was an intruder.
And then he began to sing.
Dear God, his voice. It was soulful and soothing at the same time. Perfect pitch and tone. A gravely quality that drew her in and made her want to listen to him forever and a day. It was like a warm bath that flowed through her entire body. How could he possibly have failed in Nashville? He was everything that a musician should be.
The song he sang was country in sound to some extent, but there was a bluesy component that reached deep down into her soul and tugged at the strings of her own heart. She could feel his words, but she also felt the music in a way that even classical had never touched.
When he finished playing the song, Laura realized that she had tears running down her cheeks. She tried to quickly wipe them away so she wouldn’t look like an idiot, but it was too late. Sawyer stopped, obviously worried that he’d upset her somehow and put the guitar aside as he slid to the end of his chair.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Laura smiled, wiping the last tear from her now reddening cheeks. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting… that.”
“Expecting what?”
“Something so… beautiful. I can’t even describe what that did to me. Sawyer, you are so amazingly talented. I can’t even…”
She stumbled over her words, getting more embarrassed by the second.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding like it was about to break. “That means a lot.”
He cleared his throat and she did the same, both of them trying to move past the moments of awkward silence where neither knew what to say.
“I could literally listen to that all night. Maybe you could make me a recording?”
He laughed. It was an ironic laugh, and she didn’t understand it, but it definitely wasn’t a typical laugh. She decided not to dig further for the moment.
“How about you lie back right there on the sofa, and I’ll play until you tell me to stop?”
That sounded heavenly to her at the moment, so she took the invitation to recline back on the sofa and listen to the sweet, sexy sounds of Sawyer serenading her. And in that moment, she silently thanked her best friend for urging her to go to January Cove.
Chapter 8
It was dark, with just flickers of light occasionally darting around the room. The sound of breathing was the only noise. His arm ached, and his leg was going numb.
Sawyer forced open his eyes, wondering what kind of weird dream he was having. But it wasn’t a dream.
He was crammed into the arm chair, his guitar lying on the floor next to him. His guitar.
He’d been playing and singing. And Laura… she’d been lying on his sofa. And she still was.
She looked so peaceful in the silhouette of moonlight, a small smile still painted on her face. She was snuggled into a patchwork blanket his great aunt had sewn with her aging hands, and that made his heart smile.
On her side, she was facing his direction, the blanket pulled up under her neck. He checked the clock. It was almost midnight, and she needed to get home and get some sleep in a regular bed. His sofa wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place on Earth.
Still, he just wanted to look at her. She was beautiful with her long, dirty blond hair and perfect skin. And when her eyes were open, they were a stunning version of emerald green mixed with flecks of gold.
This had been one of the best nights of his life, which was ironic and amusing at the same time. He had played some of the biggest venues in the country, yet this night playing for one pretty woman in his tiny rented living room was one of his favorite nights ever.
He’d sung a song for her that the critics had panned, and fans hadn’t understood. It was a darker song, more bluesy, more real than anything he’d sang before. And Laura had cried. Real tears had flowed from her amazing eyes. She had understood him and who he was from just one song.
It meant more to him than all the screaming fans and royalty checks he’d accumulated over the last few years. Her smile. Her tears. Their connection.
And it had taken everything in him not to kiss her on the spot. But the last thing he wanted to do was assume she felt the same about him or to scare her away. Just because his music touched her didn’t mean she wanted him to touch her.
He leaned closer, not wanting to scare her but realizing she needed to get back to the inn. “Laura?” he whispered, but she only stirred. She was so tired, and he hated to wake her up. “Laura?” he repeated, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen onto her eyes.