Bayside's Most Unexpected Bride

by Kerri Carpenter

Riley’s ears perked up as she was buttoning her coat. She knew it. She’d been guessing for months that something bad was going on at the paper. How many times had she asked Sawyer about that very subject, and every time he dodged her questions.

  Obviously, he’d confided in Jack. She got that the two of them went back a long time. Maybe he wanted financial advice from his old connection?

  Still, why hadn’t he talked to her about this? She was one of his closest friends; someone he’d known forever and a day.

  “Ah, thanks,” Sawyer said awkwardly, darting a worried expression in her direction.

  “Remember what I said. There’s more than one way to go at this juncture, even for a small-town newspaper. Give me a call if you need anything.”

  Riley tilted her head as Jack walked across the lobby toward the doors. When Sawyer didn’t budge, she planted herself smack in front of him with her hands on her hips.

  He sighed. “Just some ideas I’m considering.”

  She frowned. “I’ve asked you this before and you always manage to change the subject or avoid it completely. Is the Bugle in trouble?”

  “All newspapers are in trouble right now.”

  She pointed at him. “See, that’s not a real answer, either.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Maybe. But it’s not the full story.” She worried her lip as she tried to find the right words. “You can talk to me, you know.”

  “Of course I know that. But, right now, we really need to get on the road. I still have to stop in at the office tonight.”

  “I thought you said we didn’t have to go back to work today.” He’d already begun walking toward the door and she increased her pace to keep up with his long legs.

  “You don’t. I do.” He handed the valet his ticket. “I’m the editor, Ri. I’m in charge of everything that has to do with the Bugle. The good, the bad, the ugly.”

  What in the world? His voice held a wariness she rarely heard from him. Like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Sawyer?” she tried with a soft voice.

  He faced her, finally meeting her eyes.

  “I told you the most personal things about me the other night. Because I trust you.” She suppressed the urge to fidget. “I only hope that sentiment is reciprocal. You can trust me, too.”

  “I know it.”

  “Then what’s going on?”

  He opened his mouth and Riley could tell he was about to reveal what this was all about. Then his face changed, as if a shield had dropped and he’d changed his mind.

  Her heart sank.

  Before she could do or say anything else, the car showed up. Sawyer loaded their bags into the trunk and Riley slipped into the front seat. He adjusted the seat and the radio. Then he set the heat. Didn’t matter, she thought sadly. No amount of warm air was going to heat up the cold spot in her heart.

  If she was giving herself to someone else, all she wanted, the only thing she wanted, was to get that back in return. She’d bared her soul the other night, told Sawyer her deepest secret. Then they’d shared an amazing time together.

  Would their relationship start and end in the bedroom? While that aspect had been nice—okay, more like phenomenal—it wasn’t the only thing she wanted. What she needed was a partner who could be there fully for her, and part of being there for someone was opening up. This was something she’d never had with a romantic partner before.

  When she looked at the way Elle and Cam shared everything and how Carissa and Jasper were so in tune with each other, she couldn’t help feeling pangs of jealousy. She knew now that’s what she wanted, too. A man to connect with in every way imaginable.

  Sawyer shifted. “Ready?”

  She nodded. She was definitely ready. Ready for love and passion and understanding and sharing.

  Her stomach clenched at the idea that Sawyer might not be on the same page. There might always be a wall between them. Could she live with that?

  They drove back to Bayside in relative quiet. Riley had a lot on her mind, the main thing being if she’d made another mistake with a man.

  She glanced at Sawyer as he switched lanes on the highway, eyes focused straight ahead on the road.

  Riley knew she couldn’t make a mistake with him. Not Sawyer. He was far too important to her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Who else has been caught in the dark cloud that hangs over the Bugle’s fearless leader, Sawyer Wallace? Didn’t he get the memo that it’s the holidays? Rumor has it Sawyer hasn’t found a date for the Bugle’s upcoming anniversary gala. Perhaps that’s what has him so surly...

  Sawyer was in a bad mood, and not only because Riley had once again written about him in her column. Although he couldn’t deny her accusations about his crappy attitude.

  As usual, he returned to the Bugle after the conference with a pile of work. Articles needed editing, bills needed paying, advertisers needed to be appeased and staff needed guidance. Everything fell on his shoulders. He couldn’t imagine being out of town for more than three days.

  But what a three days it had been.

  Despite his less-than-cheery mood, when he thought about the feel of Riley’s silky skin or the way she looked as he moved over her, it was hard to stay sour. Their time together had been beyond ideal, which was why the way it had ended really sucked.

  The car ride home had been awkward, something the two of them had never experienced before. They’d known each other too long for uncomfortable silences and tension. All he’d wanted to do was reach over and stroke her cheek, ask her what was on her mind.

  He hadn’t done either of those things. Now, here he was wondering what she was thinking and how he could fix this situation without telling her the truth about his dilemma with Dan Melwood.

  Sawyer rolled his shoulders. He’d been hunched over his computer for the better part of two hours. No, he glanced through the door of his office, out into the bull pen. No one was left. The lights were turned low and the cleaning crew would be coming through shortly.

  He saved the document he was working on and shut down his computer for the night. It was Saturday and he knew damn well that he would be working over the rest of the weekend.

  He walked past Riley’s cubicle on his way out, stopping briefly to take in her colorful decorations. Photos lined the walls, tacked up with multicolored pushpins. Her wall calendar displayed a beautiful cherry blossom tree, the pink-and-white hues popping out. There were Mardi Gras beads hanging from a lamp shaped as a peacock, which stood next to her computer, complete with a body made of glitter and tall turquoise-and-green feathers that stuck as high as the cubicle wall. She’d left a purple cardigan on the back of her chair and an oversize travel mug on her desk.

  He knew she would soon decorate for the holidays, as she did every year. Last December, she’d strung twinkly lights around her desk and put up a small desktop tree. He wondered what she’d do this time.

  Riley Hudson, he thought with a long exhale. His lifelong friend and employee. She was always able to get him to have fun. Get him out of a funk.

  Except, this time, the funk had to do with her.

  Sawyer finished walking through the floor and exited the building. Instead of turning right to head to the parking lot and his waiting car, he automatically turned left toward the center of town. He knew where he was headed. Riley’s apartment.

  It wasn’t only the secret that he was keeping from her that bothered him. That, he could admit to himself out here on the cold, dark street. He wasn’t happy that she didn’t want to return to Bayside as a couple, something he realized more each second he did want.

  New or otherwise, he didn’t want to keep their relationship under cover. He would have been perfectly content to announce they were dating.

  Sure, he understood her point abo
ut the blogger. How could he not? Especially when he was feeling so bad about keeping the Bugle’s financial troubles from her. Their time away together had been a brief respite from thinking about that. But decisions would have to be made. And soon. Too many people were relying on him.

  His mind was a roller coaster tonight. When he entered her apartment building, a calm suddenly took over.

  He rode the elevator to the sixth floor and made his way down the hall to her apartment. When she opened the door, surprise crossed her face. Her bright eyes widened and she automatically raised a hand to check her hair.

  She’d mostly avoided him since they’d returned. Or maybe he was imagining that. They’d both been busy. But it was Saturday night and he wasn’t busy at the moment. Neither was she judging by the yoga pants and oversize teal sweater she wore. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Hi,” he said lamely.

  “Hey,” she replied. “Is everything okay?”

  “No,” he said automatically. Her mouth dropped open into an O shape and he instantly regretted his answer. Even if it was the truth.

  She gestured him inside. Her Christmas tree was set up in the corner of the room near the windows. It was decorated with white lights and strands of crystals and beads. The topper was a bright star with long ribbons that cascaded down most of the tree. And every single branch held a different ornament. He chuckled silently to himself because, once again, it was so typical Riley. Fun and sparkly.

  “I just opened a bottle of wine. You look like you could use a glass.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, which was separated from the rest of the living room by a counter. Not waiting for his answer, she was already pouring him a tall glass of red.

  The kitchen smelled great. Like tomatoes and onions and garlic. Something was simmering away on the stove.

  She followed his gaze to the pan. “I’m making spaghetti and meatballs. Nothing special really. The meatballs are premade. So is the sauce, but I’m doctoring it up a bit.”

  “Looks good,” he said.

  “You’re, um, welcome to stay. I have plenty.”

  Sawyer found it interesting that she was rambling. Clearly, she was nervous having him in her apartment. Another first—she’d never been nervous before.

  He crossed to her and enveloped her in his arms. She was stiff for a fraction of a second. Then she sighed, molding her body to his and winding her arms around his neck. He indulged himself by running his hands up her back. He removed the elastic holding her hair and his fingers dove into all that gorgeous red hair. It smelled like flowers in the middle of the spring.

  When he placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, she shifted, tilting her head to his. Her lips were right there, tempting and alluring.

  Nothing could have kept him from kissing her.

  Their lips met and it was as they hadn’t seen each other in a month instead of a few days.

  Her fingers dug into his neck and she hung on for dear life. He pulled her in as close as humanly possible. She tasted so damn good, like the wine she’d been sampling.

  A timer went off and he reluctantly loosened his grip.

  She grinned, her lips swollen and her cheeks red. “Sorry about that. It’s the pasta.”

  He nipped her bottom lip one more time and offered his own smile.

  She turned, flipped the knob on the stove, grabbed two pot holders and emptied the pot into a waiting colander in the sink.

  “Can I help with anything?” he asked.

  “You can check on the bread in the oven. I made garlic bread to go with this.”

  “This is a nice little spread you got here.”

  She shrugged. “I needed some comfort food. There is nothing more soothing than spaghetti and meatballs. Homemade or otherwise.”

  He frowned. Couldn’t help it. After he removed the bread from the oven and she arranged the spaghetti, meatballs and sauce on a large platter, he touched her arm.

  “You’re upset with me,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. She didn’t look at him, either. He knew her well enough to tell she was working out what she wanted to say. Then her eyes flicked up to lock onto his gaze.

  “I’m not upset with you.”

  “Then why the comfort food? What has you upset?”

  “I guess I’m disappointed.” She nodded for him to grab the bread and wine as she lifted the platter of pasta. After she placed it on her small dining table, she returned to the kitchen for plates, silverware and napkins.

  “I had planned on eating this on the couch. But this is kind of nice. I don’t use this table often.”

  “You’re avoiding the subject.”

  She sipped her wine. “I know it.”

  “Come on, Riley. It’s me. Talk.”

  It didn’t seem that she was going to say anything, but then it was as if someone uncorked her mouth, and the words flowed out.

  “We slept together and it was amazing. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’ve been friends our entire lives. No matter what, you’ll always be my friend first, Sawyer. You can tell me anything. I know you’ve been holding back. I know something is going on with the paper.”

  She took a break to scoop spaghetti onto his plate.

  “Jack confirmed my suspicions and you still didn’t talk about it with me. It hurt my feelings.”

  A huge knot formed in his stomach over that statement. “I’m sorry, Ri. I really am. It’s just, you’re not only one of my oldest friends, not only someone I just slept with. You’re also my employee.”

  She blinked, waiting.

  “It’s my job to protect my employees.”

  She studied him for a long moment. Then a smile spread slowly across her face.

  “Oh, Sawyer. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

  Just like that, the atmosphere of the room changed. Everything seemed lighter.

  “Are you making fun of me?” he asked, half-amused.

  “A little bit.”

  They ate their meal and chatted about a million different things. Like always. But Sawyer knew he wanted to tell her the whole story of what was happening with the Bugle. Needed to.

  When they were finished, they cleaned the dishes together. She cleared the table, he rinsed and loaded the dishwasher. It was such an easy domestic task, and yet it felt so very right doing it together.

  As he wondered if she felt the same way, she crept up behind him and placed a kiss behind his ear.

  He could envision this scene playing out every single night of his life and he would be a very happy, content man.

  They moved to her couch with their refilled glasses of wine. She’d turned the lights low, and the illumination from the Christmas tree cast a soft glow over the room.

  They were sitting close, holding hands. The time felt right. He began telling her his dilemma.

  “The Bugle is in trouble.”

  She placed her wineglass on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Tell me.”

  So he did.

  “I understand the situation. But how bad is it?” she asked, her brows furrowing. “Like, no hopes of bonuses ever again or a cut travel budget?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “More like we shouldn’t even order supplies.” This was the part he really didn’t want to say out loud. “I’m going to have to lay people off.”

  She squeezed his hand tightly. That simple gesture meant so much to him. Her support wound through his body and warmed all the places that were cold because of what was happening in his professional life.

  “The publishing industry is tough right now,” he said. “Really tough.”

  “I know. It’s a different world. The internet has changed everything.”

  He hesitated before speaking, feeling completely weighed down. “P
eople are now used to getting their news and information instantaneously and often for free.”

  “Our online edition is doing pretty well, right?” she asked.

  “Really well, actually.”

  “Why not switch to online only?”

  He got up abruptly from the couch and crossed to the window. He looked down at the town square below them. People were moving in and out of The Brewside. Kids were gathered in front of the large Christmas tree in the town square. He used to do the same thing in high school. Congregate in the middle of town, hang out, laugh. So many things were the same, yet everything felt different now, too.

  “I wonder what my ancestors would think about going to a digital-only publication?”

  “I think they wouldn’t have any idea what a computer or the internet is.”

  He barely cracked a smile.

  “Come on, Sawyer. I think they would be willing to change with the times. They did leave everything they knew in Europe to venture across the ocean to come here and start a new life. Trust me, they were ready to change. You have to be willing to adapt, too.”

  “All I feel right now is overwhelmingly guilty.”

  She crossed to him, but he continued to gaze out the window. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her cheek to his back. It was such a comforting gesture.

  “What in the world are you feeling guilty for?”

  “For having left the newspaper after college. For moving to DC with Rachel. My parents must have been so disappointed.” He shook his head.

  “Sawyer, there is no way your parents could ever be disappointed in you. In fact, I remember how excited your dad was that you were working at the Washington Post. You’re being really hard on yourself.”

  He shrugged. “Still, that’s how I feel. Now I have to feel guilty for what I’m going to have to do to all those employees who count on me. Riley, it’s the holidays. I don’t know how much longer I can drag this out. I will be solely responsible for putting people out of work.”

  He felt her shift. Her hands grabbed his and she spun him to face her. “Sawyer, you’re a good man. A really good man. And this isn’t your fault. You’ve been holding everything together for a long time. You need to cut yourself a little slack.”