by Tia Louise
“Oh…” I step back quickly. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“Here… Stay there.” He holds out a hand, and I swear to God, I don’t know how he’s so in control all the time. I’m acting like he’s never been to my house before.
“I won’t move.” My bottom lip goes between my teeth, and he steps forward to hug me.
He smells so good. He’s deep woods and fresh linen and soap. I want his soap. Leaning back he looks down at my cheek.
“You look really pretty tonight.”
“Thanks.” It’s a soft whisper.
“Can I kiss you?” He touches my chin with his thumb and forefinger, and my stomach flips.
“Yes.”
He leans down and places his lips against mine, warm and full. A little nudge, and they part. His tongue touches mine so, so softly my whole body catches fire.
We’ve had sex. He’s licked my clit until I had to suffocate myself with a pillow to keep from screaming his name, and I swear, this kiss is the hottest thing he’s done yet. I want to jump his bones right here and now…
His head lifts, and our eyes meet, warm hazel burning straight to my core. He grins, and that dimple pierces his cheek. “What’s for dinner?”
“Oh…” I exhale a laugh, blinking the haze from my eyes. “You’re going to love it.”
Stepping back, I catch his hand and lead him to the kitchen, thinking of Deacon’s words… The kickass Mindy, who goes after what she wants. Right. Until this man walks in the room.
It’s sort of like catching a butterfly. You’re so confident when you set out to grab it. Then when it’s right there, you’re scared to touch it.
At least I am… I don’t want to break it.
Stopping in front of the oven, I clasp my hands at my chest. “It’s Ma’s handwritten recipe. Eggplant parmesan.”
His eyebrows rise. “Smells really good. I’m surprised I’ve never had it.”
“I know, right?” I turn to the oven to check the timer. “Just about fifteen more minutes. What should we do?”
“It’s a really pretty night. We could go—”
“Want to see what’s on Netflix?” We are not leaving the house. My plan is codename Netflix and Chill.
Also known as having sex.
“Okay.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie.”
My nose wrinkles. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Well… No.” He runs a strong hand over his scruffy chin. “We get up so early, and I work pretty much all day. Dove makes me watch Angelina Ballerina sometimes, but I crash halfway through it.”
I’m so in love with this man. I try to imagine him with his little blue-eyed, blonde-haired niece on his lap doing his best to watch one of her cartoon movies after working his ass off all day in the orchard.
He’ll be such a good daddy.
“That’s okay.” My voice is softer, less teasing. “Is there anything you missed? Something you heard about?”
He looks around the room, thinking. “What was that movie Noel couldn’t stop talking about? La La Land?”
“You want to watch La La Land?” I can’t even hide the surprise in my voice.
“Does it suck?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it.” He chuckles, and that settles it. “I’ll cue it up.”
We get through the opening to where Emma Stone is making fun of Ryan Gosling’s 1980s cover band at a party when the oven timer goes off.
Jumping up, I hit pause and look back at him. “What’s the verdict?”
He shrugs. “It’s a lot of singing… But you like it. We can keep going.”
“Let’s fix plates.”
We’re in the kitchen, just the two of us, which is really different from every other time he’s had dinner here. Usually the entire family is crowded around.
Grabbing an oven mit, I open the door and pull out the bubbling glass dish, putting it on the stovetop. “It looks right…”
“You sound like you were worried it wouldn’t.” I glance over my shoulder at him, and he laughs. “I can’t wait to taste it.”
Chewing my lip, I cut into it, dishing out square pieces onto his plate and onto mine. He starts for the living room, but I stop him fast.
“Wait… I set the table. Here.” I nod toward the family room where I have one corner all prepared with candles and crystal goblets and the red wine I opened.
“This looks really nice.” He walks over, sitting at the head of the table and looking up at me. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for all this elegance.”
He’s in dark jeans and a blue tee that hugs every muscle in his chest and arms. He looks scrumptious. “You’re perfect.”
Our eyes meet, and I realize what I said.
Clearing my throat, I reach for the wine. “Let’s have a drink.”
We both sit. The candles are lit and glowing with a golden light. I lit them earlier, so they’re kind of drippy, but still romantic.
“Hang on.” Sawyer’s large hand covers mine in a gentle clasp. He takes the bottle and pours us each a glass. When we’re ready, he holds his out to me. “Cheers.”
“What are we toasting?”
“This delicious meal you cooked for me?”
“The first of many?”
He nods, and we clink glasses, taking a sip. It’s really good Pinot Noir, so I take a longer gulp as he cuts into his eggplant serving.
“If this smells as good as it tastes…” He blows on the bite a few seconds before popping it into his mouth.
I put my goblet down and cut a piece, blowing on it a few seconds. I only notice his frozen posture after I put the entire piece in my mouth. It takes a second, a blink or two, before my brain catches up with my taste buds and I realize…
“Oh, shit!” My mouth opens, and I’m about to spit it out when I realize I’m trying to be sophisticated and sexy… I close my mouth again and cough.
Sawyer chews slowly, his eyes a bit wider.
I can’t take it. I cough again through my attempts to swallow the bitter as fuck concoction. “Spit it out! It tastes like vomit.”
He closes his eyes and swallows, grabbing the wine and taking a long drink. I do the same, and when we come up for air.
“Is it supposed to have that… taste?”
“It’s bitter as fuck!” I look at the beautiful casserole. “And I worked so hard…”
Sawyer’s elbow is on the table, and he rubs his fingers over his eyes before cutting another bite and putting it in his mouth. “It’s probably an acquired taste…”
My face is scrunched, and I can’t believe he ate another bite. “What are you doing?”
He drinks more wine and eats more. “I think it’s growing on me.”
“It’s not!”
His dark brow furrows, and I watch as he forces a swallow.
“Stop eating it!” I reach out and grab his wrist as he tries to cut another piece.
“But you baked.”
My eyes warm with tears, and I can’t decide if I want to laugh or cry. What I do want to do is show some love that he’s not teasing me for being the worst cook on the planet, which clearly I am.
“Give me this.” I snatch the plate from in front of him. “I don’t know what happened. I followed the recipe exactly!”
We both stand, and he follows me to the kitchen, carrying our wine glasses. I pull out Ma’s hand-written recipe, and we scan it quickly looking for any sign of a culprit.
“I’d be lying if I acted like I knew anything about this stuff…” His voice trails off, and my hands fly to my lips.
Laughter bubbles in my stomach, making my voice almost a shriek. “That was so awful!”
Tears are in my eyes, and Sawyer struggles not to laugh. It only makes the dimple in his cheek more noticeable. Diving forward, I hug my arms around his neck. His arms are around my waist, and I feel him starting to laugh.
He takes a deep breath and puts both hands on my waist, moving me back. “He
re’s what we’ll do. I’ll make grilled cheese, and if you want we can finish the movie?”
“Let’s do it.”
I go to the pantry and take out the bread. He grabs the sliced cheese and a stick of butter from the fridge. Ten minutes later, we’re on the couch again, wine on the end tables, plates of grilled cheese in hand, lights low.
I snuggle into his side, taking a bite of warm and melty grilled cheese. It’s zesty and buttery. “This is really delicious.” I take another bite.
“It’s the only thing I know how to make.” The muscle in his jaw moves attractively as he chews.
I watch him a minute, my insides humming with delight. “It’s a good thing.”
The movie continues as we finish our dinner. I snuggle closer, sliding a hand around his waist. Lots of singing and dancing later, we finish the wine. The movie goes to silhouette… They’re in Paris… And as it concludes, I sit up straight.
“That’s it?” The credits roll, and I blink at the screen.
Sawyer sits forward, exhaling. “It was pretty good.”
My jaw drops, and I look at him.
“What?” He looks from me to the screen. “It was a lot of singing and dancing, but I get it. He was a musician. But he got his club—”
“You liked it?” My eyebrows rise.
He looks around like he’s trying to find the right answer. “I liked the opening part. With the people on the cars. That seemed fun.”
“But the ending.”
“It seemed realistic to me—” He nods like it’s all very logical.
“Who gives a shit about realistic? That is not how it was supposed to end!”
“Supposed to end…”
“I think that was the worst ending of a movie I’ve ever seen in my life! I wish I’d never even started it. I can’t believe I spent two hours, and they did that!”
I’m shouting, and the corner of Sawyer’s mouth twitches. I can see in his eyes he’s trying not to laugh. “I think you’re taking it way too seriously. It’s just a movie—”
“Just a movie I expected to End. Right!”
He covers my arm with his hand, standing and gently lifting me to my feet. “I think you had an extra glass of wine. Let’s walk it off.”
“I am not tipsy. That ending sucked.”
I allow him to lead me out of the living room, but I’m ticked as hell.
“Come on Siskel… Or is it Ebert?”
“I wish those guys were still around. They would agree with me.”
We go out the front door into the warm, humid night, and Sawyer stops, pulling my back against his chest and wrapping me in his arms. “Look at that moon.”
His lips are at my temple, and my breath catches as I gaze up at the giant orange ball in the sky. “It’s a harvest moon.”
“Let’s go for a ride. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Okay.” I slip my hand in his, and he pulls me to his side as we walk to the waiting Chevy.
I love being close to his side, his heat and scent flooding my senses. I want to thread my fingers in his soft hair and kiss his strong jaw. I’m ready to go anywhere with him, even dancing into the Milky Way like they did in La La Land…
Just not to that ending.
12
Sawyer
Mindy’s snuggled against my side, and the serious talk I’d considered feels like bad timing. It’s our first date. She cooked me a terrible dinner then got ticked off about how the movie we watched ended…
These are the memories I want to keep.
I don’t want to dredge through the past tonight.
She’s quiet and I think she dozes as I drive us out to Darby Lake, an enormous reservoir about ten miles north of town where people like to camp and boat. I park in a secluded spot on a hill with a clear view of the night sky. Trees are all around us, and I give her a little nudge before helping her out of the cab.
Summer nights are never quiet in the country. Animals are either mating or hunting or both. Frogs make long, croaking calls and cicadas add a screeching wall of sound. Occasionally, a dog barks or a coyote howls.
It’s warm and the air is heavy with moisture. It smells like pine trees and the lake, damp wood with an undertone of fish. It’s so familiar, where we grew up, all we know.
“I brought a blanket.” I lean over, spreading it in a layer on the bed of my truck.
She climbs inside and sits, and I drop beside her with my back to the cab. The moon is higher, and it’s surrounded by an impossible number of stars.
“I fell asleep on you.” Mindy faces me with her legs crossed.
Her hair is over her shoulder, and it’s more like it used to be when she was young, wild and messy.
“That’s okay.” I slide a piece off her cheek. “I’ve missed your curls.”
“I haven’t.” Her nose wrinkles and she shifts around, putting her back against the cab and lifting her chin. “I used to wish I was the moon.”
I put my arm around her, letting the heat of her body radiate into mine. “I used to want to be an owl.”
“What?” Her face bobs around to meet mine, smiling. “How old were you?”
“Shew…” I try to think. “Ten? Maybe younger. I thought it was cool how they could turn their heads all the way around.”
“I can’t believe I never knew that.” She traces a finger down my neck. “If I were the moon, I’d draw you out of your nest.”
“You would.” I catch her finger and kiss it. She slides her palm along mine and threads our fingers together. She’s been doing this a lot lately. I like it. I study her slim hand in mine. “Owls are bad luck, aren’t they?”
“Hmm… I don’t know.” She looks up at the sky again. “I think they’re neat… Oh, look!” She points overhead. “A shooting star. I wish all the bad luck to go away.” Closing her eyes, she puts her head on my shoulder and presses her face against my neck. “Only good luck for us.”
“Your nose is cold.”
She smiles against my skin. “My dad used to say ‘cold nose, warm heart.’”
“I thought it was cold hands.”
“Cold something.”
We’re quiet, listening to the sounds of the night. “You never talk much about your dad.” She lifts her head. “Do you miss him?”
I consider this. I want to say always…
“When I was young, he’d take me fishing. He’d tell me his thoughts on things… I thought this feels right. I guess I identified with him the most.”
“When you were young… You don’t anymore?”
My stomach turns. I typically avoid this memory lane. “I’ll never understand what he did. How he could leave us when we needed him the most.”
The cicadas scree louder, and she moves my hand to her lap. “Maybe what you thought you identified with was really your mom. The way she looked after you, made sure you were always safe and fed.”
My mom is a gentle memory that tugs at my heart. What happened to her seems so unfair. I think about Noel and how she’s so impulsive, how quickly she acts on her emotions, like my dad apparently did.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I can’t even imagine… You were forced to grow up overnight.” She blinks up, big green eyes, cute little nose. “I don’t even remember you as a kid.”
“I remember you as a kid.”
Her lips press together, and she sits higher, putting our faces on the same level. “I’m not a kid now.”
“It’s true. You’re not.”
Her eyes go to my lips, and I’m ready to kiss her. I’m ready to do a lot more with her. Reaching out, I slide my palm along her cheek. She tilts her head to the side and closes her eyes. Something’s on my mind, though.
“Look at me.” My thumb tugs at her full lip. “What’s the deal with Deacon? Is he in love with you?”
Her brows scrunch together, and her head pulls back. “He’s helping me with my business plan.”
I keep hearing this about him. “What�
�s your business plan?”
She clears her throat, taking my hand in hers and lowering it to her lap. “I want to own my own design firm. But I don’t know if that’s possible here, if the town’s too small.”
“So… He’s changing the size of the town?”
Her eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t answer me, so I ask her. “Last Christmas you said you were going to Dallas. Is that still something you want to do?”
“Is that something you want me to do?”
No.
“I want you to do what makes you happy. Don’t live your life trapped here… for whatever reason.” My chest is tight, and I’m angry, which isn’t fair to her.
“I can’t tell if you’re talking to me or you.” Her voice is defiant, and I don’t like her calling me out.
“I’m talking to you. I don’t like flaky women. Make up your mind and go for it.”
“I’ve never been flaky in my life.” She sits back, giving my arm a shove. “I don’t like bossy farmers who can’t talk about their feelings.”
“I’m not a farmer.”
“You need to decide what you want and go for it.”
“I’m pretty sure I have decided.”
“Then maybe you should share that information with me.”
Her sudden feistiness melts my irritation. I don’t know how we went from being so close to bickering, but I’m ready to get us back on track.
“Come here.” She doesn’t move, so I lean forward and catch her by the waist, pulling her onto my lap in a straddle. “I said come here.”
“I’m mad at you.”
“No, you’re not.” My hands slide up her thighs, under that skirt to her soft ass. She exhales a little noise, and I kiss the side of her jaw, inhaling her scent of flowers and spice.
The heat between us is rising fast, and I look around. Lights are below us near the lake. I can’t take the chance of somebody walking up on us out here.
Moving my hands to her back, I clear my throat, refocusing my thoughts. “Leon’s been a bigger help than I expected.”
“So.” Her voice is pouty, and I kiss the side of her neck.
“So something’s happening tomorrow that hasn’t happened in a long time.”