Brynn tried not to let that comment sting, but her lungs turned to cotton and a dull throb formed at her temples.
“She even bought me a bunch of really awesome fishing supplies to try to bribe me into staying,” he continued.
Good thing Brynn didn’t have a grape soda, or she probably would’ve snorted it again.
“Anyway, the last thing I wanted to do was be set up by my mom.” He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Especially since I’m already dating the coolest girl I’ve ever met.”
Cool. That’s me. Apparently she’d done a better job keeping up the act than she realized, because it felt like all the nerdy was seeping out of her lately.
“I know it feels like a serious step, and we don’t have to go for dinner.”
Under normal circumstances, she would’ve said sure, no problem. In fact, she would be excited he wanted her to meet his mom. But she could not, under any circumstances, go without blowing her cover, and it was way too late for that now. “With the play and everything…I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Sawyer’s shoulders slumped and his grip on her hand loosened. “I totally get it. I promised I’d ask, though.”
Brynn glanced out the window and bit her lip. “I feel like a jerk. It’s not that I don’t want to meet her. But like you said, you’re leaving, and one more entanglement…”
“Hey.” He squeezed her hand. “I get it.”
I don’t think you do. I’m already going to lose you, and if we see your mom, I’ll just lose you sooner.
Sawyer pulled up in front of his house and then hurried around the car to open her door for her. “Your place or mine?”
She liked how he made sure both options included not saying good night yet. “Well, I baked earlier today, so I’ve got cookies, and I know all you’ve got at your place is water and soda for old people.”
He wrapped his arms around her and nipped at her lips. “You know you love it.”
“I do.” And I love you, too. She really needed to stop thinking those kind of thoughts before she accidentally said one out loud and scared him away for good, true identity revealed or not.
…
Brynn instructed Sawyer to make himself at home and then headed to the kitchen. He heard her talking to her birds, who tweeted back at her like she was some kind of cartoon princess. He smiled and headed toward the couch. But then he noticed her bookshelf. He wandered over to it, reading the titles. As he scanned them, he thought back to the conversation in the car.
How am I going to break the news to Mom that Brynn’s not coming to dinner?
Earlier today, he’d been in the middle of strolling down black-and-white-memory lane, perusing the pages of photos from his graduating class, when Mom had burst into his room and shoved the recipe book in his face. She’d asked for his opinion, her hopes so high they were scraping the ceiling.
And right then, he’d given up, and just hoped he could talk Brynn into going. But she’d been so set against it.
“Okay, so— What are you looking at?” Brynn asked.
He pulled his hand away from the bookshelf. He’d been so lost in thinking about Mom, he hadn’t even paid attention to the last half of the titles. “You’ve got a lot of classic literature in here. Not much new.”
“My degree was actually in literature, minor in theater.” She raised the plate of cookies. “Hungry?”
His stomach growled in answer. They settled onto the couch and he bit into a cookie. Buttery and sugary and chocolaty. “Mmm. Now there’s no way I can bake for you. My stuff will suck compared to this.” He liked that she baked. Not that she had to, but he could envision her in her kitchen, humming, throwing herself into it, the way she did everything.
“I went through this phase where I was set on being a baker. I came up with these amazing flavor combos. I once made cherry cheesecake cookies.”
“Sounds awesome.”
“It should’ve been delicious—should’ve being the operative word. The cream cheese and cherry filling didn’t combine with the flour and sugar right, and it just turned into a puddle that was burned and raw. So then I decided I was going to be a famous painter instead. Only I wasn’t good at that beyond the basic, stage prop stuff. Nothing people would want to hang up in their house.”
Sawyer watched her face, the way her eyes lit up and her eyebrows rose and fell, her excitement so close to the surface. All her emotions, really. Even if she didn’t tell him what was going on, he could read her. Which was how he realized she was getting attached, despite her saying she was fine with their current arrangement. Guilt pinched his gut, eating away at the lightness he felt just from being around her.
“I was obsessed with creating,” she continued, a smile curving her beautiful lips. “But I’d always change my mind on exactly what I wanted to create. I even tried writing a tragic sweeping romance.”
He brushed her bangs aside and pushed his fingers into her silky hair. “And how’d that go?”
“Well, there were ball gowns and social classes and betrayal—of course. A banished aristocrat girl and a guy who was willing to do anything to be with her…” She glanced at him, then shook her head and took a bite of cookie.
“Don’t stop,” he said, sliding his hand behind her neck. “You could talk forever for all I care.”
She smiled. “That’s what you say now. You have no idea how long I can go on about tragic love stories. Like I said, I do have a degree in literature.” She took another bite and he got distracted watching her mouth. She yawned. “Man, I’m exhausted.”
Maybe that was a hint for him to leave, but he wasn’t going to until she straight up said it or kicked him out. He was selfish and he knew it, but he only had a little bit of time left with this amazing woman. And despite his attempts to remain un-invested in them as a couple, he realized he was getting pretty attached himself. He put his arm around her and leaned back on the couch. Brynn rested her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her closer, taking her weight onto him. He could feel her curves under the thin material of her shirt. He wanted to make a move so badly, but last night when kissing had been turning into more, she’d pulled away.
Sawyer ran his fingers down her back, enjoying the way she pushed into him—she was ticklish. He wanted to test out every inch. He swallowed hard, working for control. “So, what was after writing?”
“Acting.” She smiled. “That one stuck, though I still try baking experiments or pottery or whatever hits me now and then. A few months ago, I was determined to learn French. But I didn’t get very far.” She tilted her head up. “Enough about me,” she said, and her lips brushed his jaw, making him fight back a groan. “Is writing screenplays it for you?”
He readjusted, settling into the corner of the couch and tugging Brynn closer. Her hair smelled like some kind of flower, and her hand was high enough on his thigh he was having trouble focusing. “I’ve thought of different careers over the years, especially after I got rejection after rejection. But when my screenplay was made into a movie, it was amazing. Granted, there were a few parts I was a little disappointed in, because they weren’t what I’d envisioned. I guess that’s all part of the biz, though.”
“You should direct them, then. You’d be a great director.”
Sawyer thought of the play now, how it was all coming together, so much better than the first day he walked into the tiny theater. He liked picking apart what wasn’t working and making it better. Liked the control, too, honestly. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You know, they film some movies in North Carolina…TV shows, too. More in Wilmington than here, though. There was that One Tree Hill show. And Dawson’s Creek. I’m sure there are more…adult things.”
“Adult things?”
She smacked his chest—or attempted to, anyway. Her breaths were slowing, and her eyelids were drifting closed. “I’m saying there are other options. If you want them.”
It was the digital age. He could write from any
where, really, despite what his agent claimed about opportunity in California. The one thing he had on his side was that he’d already sold a script and the one he was writing now did have interest—if he could just finish it and get it to his agent. He’d also done script doctoring for screenplays that weren’t quite working, which, again, he could do anywhere. If he chose to live somewhere else—like North Carolina—he’d have to travel from time to time. But if it meant having Brynn to come home to…
He couldn’t think like that. Because he still wasn’t getting married or having kids. While he liked how animatedly she talked about her attempt at writing a romance, it was just another reminder that she wanted a relationship like that in real life. Maybe not the ball gowns or betrayal, but she wanted more than he could give her.
“Brynn?” he said.
No response. He shifted enough so that he could see her face. His heart expanded and filled up entirely with her. He recognized the emotion stirring from somewhere deep inside, only he’d never felt it on this level before. He tried to tell himself it was too soon, but it didn’t matter, because there was no denying it now.
“I love you,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brynn darted into the shop two minutes before it was time to open. Paul crossed his arms and shot her a look.
“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.” The fishing channel was already playing, the rotund guy onscreen sitting in his boat, getting ready to explain how he trolled for trophy-sized fish. She didn’t even care that she’d seen this very episode enough times she could quote it. Because this morning she’d woken up in Sawyer’s arms. As they’d been lying on the couch, she’d even stolen a couple of seconds to study the faint scar that crossed his eyebrow, his full bottom lip, and the dip just above his upper one.
When they’d said their good-byes on her front porch, he’d drawn her close, kissed her neck, and said, “I liked sleeping with you.”
Even though she knew he was teasing her, it’d sent heat traveling up her core. The entire drive here, it’d been all she could think about—the possibility of what it’d be like if she actually took that step with him.
“It’s starting to be an everyday thing,” Paul said, pulling her out of Happy Vibes Land. “I’ve done all the pre-open stuff by myself for the last three days.”
She wanted to suggest they have one of the other workers come in to help, but she knew they had to be careful with hours. “Once the play’s done, I’ll go back to normal, I swear.” Only then she’d probably be spending her nights crying into a carton of ice cream, watching sappy movies because she missed Sawyer. But after she cried herself to sleep, she’d wake up early and make up for the past few weeks of slacking off.
“Normal.” Paul huffed, but she let it go so they wouldn’t have a fight. She also decided not to mention that she’d promised Dani she’d meet her and her in-laws at the bridal shop this afternoon and needed to take a slightly longer lunch break.
The day dragged a bit, though the shop was busy. Finally, when they hit a lull, Brynn leaned on the counter next to Paul. “So, how are things with Carly?” She figured that’d put a smile on his face. He’d been going on and on about her even more the past few days.
“I swore that I wouldn’t let my guard down again, but…Carly makes me feel important. Needed.” Paul twisted to face Brynn. “I know I told you to hold back and not to let the guy know how much you like him, but…I think I was wrong. If you like that guy, you should tell him. If it’s right, you won’t scare him off.”
Brynn scuffed the floor with her shoe. “What about the fact that he thinks I’m someone else?”
“Oh, I’m sure you haven’t done that good a job of hiding the fact that you’re a weirdo.” He grinned at her.
“Gee, thanks.”
“You should probably tell him the truth. See what happens.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Panic rose up, binding her lungs, as she thought about coming completely clean. Maybe he’d understand, but what would she do if he didn’t? “I think I better wait until after the play’s done. Like right before he leaves. That way, I won’t screw up what has the potential to be the best week of my life.”
“Not to get all mushy, but you know that I’d be lost trying to keep this place going without you. You’re smart and you’re funny. Don’t settle for less than you deserve.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
Paul shook his head at her. “Ah, hell. I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
She hugged him despite the fact that he looked like he wanted to run. Who knew if he’d ever say anything so nice to her again? “I hope you and Carly work out.” She was surprised that she actually meant it.
A couple of customers wandered in—one old man frowned at Brynn and Paul like hugging was against the law—and she got back to work. But her thoughts kept returning to Sawyer. Every minute with him held this sense of urgency, the days they had left slipping through her fingers. He made her feel like no one else ever had. She loved him, and she didn’t want to be filled with regrets when he left. She wanted to experience everything with him. At least no matter what happened after that, she’d be able to hold on to one perfect night together.
While courage was pumping through her veins, she got out her phone and sent a text to Sawyer.
You. Me. A nice dinner out, and dessert at my place after. What do you say?
Within a minute, he’d texted back.
YES
Excitement zipped through her stomach. Tonight, she was going to go all out with her I’m-a-confident-girl-who-gets-what-I-want persona, and seduce her sexy sorta-boyfriend.
…
Sawyer loaded the last of the furniture into the truck he’d borrowed from Mom’s neighbor so he could finish clearing the big items out of the house. The attic, and even a few of the bedrooms, had antique pieces that’d been left there all these years. He kept a rocking chair for reasons he couldn’t explain—he wasn’t going to take it to New York, and he wasn’t exactly a rocking-chair type of guy. Still, it was beautiful and handcrafted, and he couldn’t bring himself to add it to the rest of the furniture he planned on selling off.
He got into the truck and headed toward Quality Antiques. As he drove, he thought of Brynn, like he’d been doing since first thing that morning. He couldn’t wait to go out with her tonight. He wasn’t sure if she’d meant what it sounded like when she’d said “dessert at my place,” but he knew how he wanted the night to end. And not just because sex with her would be great, but because… Well, damn it, because he loved her. No denying it anymore. The girl shone like the sun, high energy and bright, her enthusiasm for life impossible not to catch. She named birds after literary characters. She was the most unique, beautiful woman he’d ever known. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go; he wanted to run his fingers across all her curves without any annoying fabric in the way.
He reached over and cranked up the air conditioning. Tonight was too far away. He parked the truck in the side alley by the shop, the way they’d told him to when he’d called about selling the items earlier. The owner came out, they haggled over price for a few minutes, and then he helped the woman load it into her shop.
As he was walking toward the front of the store, he noticed a tiny, circular, cream-colored music box with a black and white outline of two people dancing. There were musical notes in a line around it and a large red heart. Sawyer picked it up and spun the tiny crank on the side. The top was covered in a small metal grate, and inside, he could see the tiny parts spinning as music filled the air.
It made him think of Brynn, and he decided she needed to have it. He took it to the register and asked Mrs. Marts to take it out of the money for the furniture. As she counted the bills, Sawyer was counting the time he had left here. If he stuck to the plan, he’d be leaving in less than a week.
He’d definitely lost focus on his screenplay lately—he
really should get back to his normal life. But with the play taking up the weekend, that didn’t leave much time to wrap up the last details on the house and get it listed. He also wanted to fit in as much time with his mom and Brynn as possible. Although he wasn’t sure how he was going to balance that.
He let out a long breath. Another week wouldn’t kill him. Maybe two. He could be stricter about his writing, and he wouldn’t be spending every night at rehearsals. Plus, if he stayed longer, he could see where he and Brynn stood at the end of the month. A little more time, and maybe…Well, maybe he could promise her more than here and now.
He couldn’t believe he was thinking it. Not after Zoey. Oops, he realized, I never called her back. He didn’t want to deal with her now, though. Before their relationship, he’d been hesitant of commitment, but ever since he thought he would have to be with her forever, he’d known true fear of settling down. Especially after that day she’d dragged him into the bridal shop.
“Just come on,” Zoey had said, tugging him inside.
“I thought I couldn’t see the dress before…” He hadn’t been able to say “the wedding.” A month ago she’d been throwing dishes at his head as he broke up with her. Then she was leaving, alternating “I hate you” and “I still love you” messages.
And now… He’d gulped, his stomach rolling. He hadn’t even asked her. He supposed he’d have to now. It was the right thing to do. His lungs collapsed and his skin itched like it was breaking out in hives.
“I don’t believe in all that,” Zoey had said. “And besides, I’ve had my eye on this dress for months.”
Months? “You’ve been coming in here for that long?”
“Newsflash, women like weddings. We think about the dress and the day and how the guy will finally ask us.” She’d given him a pointed look that said, You’d better be asking me soon, buddy.
Zoey let out a squeal. “It’s still here.” She lifted a white dress—he didn’t notice details, just white and fluffy with a side of Lifetime of Regret.
Act Like You Love Me (An Accidentally in Love Novel) (Entangled: Bliss) Page 15