“One thing I’ve learned, she doesn’t have a conscience,” Sawyer said on the first day as they ran through a thicket of willow trees. “You have to consider what she could do to your life, to your business. Rumors. Outright lies. What will your mother say?”
Beck didn’t tell Sawyer about the fires he’d already put out. So far, the efforts to tarnish him and his business were small, annoying, and easily nipped in the bud. If Camille Hale’s efforts escalated, he was prepared.
“Mom would say fuck rumors and lies,” Beck snorted. “Without the colorful language.”
“Easy to laugh now. Wait until the chicken manure hits the fan.”
“Your concern for Kramer Construction is appreciated, Sawyer. Worrying about me is sweet. Don’t. I, the business, can weather anything that comes our way. As for my mother? Rather than speculate, why don’t we ask her.”
Beck took Sawyer’s hand and detoured across the street. Ringo, happy to go wherever his people went, tagged along.
“Who lives here?” she asked as they stopped in front of a blue and white cottage.
“I did until my eighteenth birthday. Now, the sole occupant is Sandy Kramer.”
“I cannot knock on your mother’s door at this hour of the morning.”
“Mom’s an early riser.”
Sawyer tried to pull her hand away, but Beck held tight as they started up the flower-lined path.
“My hair is a mess.”
“She won’t care.”
“I’m all sweaty.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Beck rang the bell. “She’s seen people sweat.”
“I hate you,” Sawyer muttered as the front door swung open.
“Beck. And Sawyer.” Sandy smile widened. Without blinking an eye, as if her son brought a sweat-soaked woman to her house every morning of the week, she beckoned them with a wave of her hand. “Come in.”
“Sorry to show up so early, Mrs. Kramer.” Sawyer finally freed her hand from Beck’s grip. “And without warning.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m always up at the crack of dawn. Habit from when I drove a school bus.”
“Interesting job.”
“Once Beck started first grade, the hours were perfect. I dropped him off and picked him up. Better and cheaper than a babysitter.”
They followed Sandy to the kitchen where she told them to sit while she finished cooking breakfast. But first, she shuffled a reluctant Ringo into the back yard.
“Don’t bother for me,” Sawyer said in a rush. “I couldn’t eat a thing.”
“You eat like a lumberjack,” Beck scoffed, earning a dirty look from both women. “Lumberjack is a compliment.”
“No bother at all,” Sandy said, ignoring her son. “I’ll add a few more eggs to the skillet, and Beck can handle the toast. Would you like some coffee? Mugs are in the cupboard by the refrigerator.”
Beck could tell the moment Sawyer gave into the inevitable, the moment she realized Sandy Kramer was a force of nature and saying no was futile.
“Thank you.” Sawyer served herself, breathed in the aroma of strong black coffee, and smiled through the first sip.
“Aren’t you going to pour a cup for me?” Beck asked as he manned the toaster.
“No.”
Sandy’s laughter filled the room.
“Good girl. He dragged you here, let him get his own.”
“Drag is an overstatement,” Beck protested. “I prefer encouraged.”
“Mm.” Sandy didn’t seem convinced. “Want to tell me why?”
For the first time, Beck thought through the impulse to bring Sawyer to his mother’s house. To explain fully, they would need to share the contents of David Hale’s will. The secrets weren’t his, and he didn’t have the right to ask. In the end, he didn’t need to.
“I’m afraid my friendship with Beck will ruin his reputation and Kramer Construction.”
Beck didn’t know who was more surprised by the burst of words. Him, his mother, or Sawyer.
“You’ve put a lot of responsibility on yourself,” Sandy said, the first to recover her voice. “Can you tell me why?”
“My ex-mother-in-law is a horrible person,” Sawyer began.
The rest of her story came out quickly. She barely stopped to take a breath, the sentences running together one after the other. Sandy listened, taking in the details with only an occasional nod.
“I agree,” she said when Sawyer finished. “Camille Hale is a terrible woman.”
“And…?” Sawyer asked.
“You were put in an untenable situation.” Sandy dished up their breakfast. “Did you ever consider getting married?”
“Sure.”
“You did?” Beck demanded. The idea hadn’t occurred to him.
“Can you think of a better way to get Camille out of my life?”
“No,” he conceded. But the idea of Sawyer married to another man didn’t sit well.
“A marriage of convenience. A win-win for you and your fake husband.”
“Exactly,” Sawyer said, smiling at Sandy’s observation. “One year out of his life. The union would be sexless, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Sandy said, nodding.
Beck looked from his mother to Sawyer, amazed by their instant connection. They seemed to have everything in hand, and he’d become the odd man out.
“Why not sex?”
Sawyer and Sandy exchanged sighs.
“Because, my darling child, no physical contact means less chance of messy emotions getting in the way.”
“A quick divorce,” Sawyer said. “A generous financial settlement, and we’d both be free.”
“But how could you guarantee the guy would keep his end of the bargain?” Sandy reasoned. “Finding the right man, one who would keep his hands to himself and didn’t try to leverage his way to more money than he deserved would be tricky. Close to impossible.”
Sawyer walked across the kitchen and retrieved the coffee pot. Moving around the table, she refreshed everyone’s cup, including Beck’s.
“I decided to take the easy way out wouldn’t be worth a potential minefield of headaches, or worse.”
“Smart,” Beck said.
“Yes,” Sandy agreed. “But lonely.”
“Not really. I concentrated on getting my degree and starting up Hale’s Nursery. Talia always had my back. Lately, your son’s been my rock.” Sawyer smiled and just like that, Beck felt back in the loop.
“Beck’s a good friend.”
“You raised a good man.” Sawyer’s gaze narrowed slightly. “In one year and three months, David’s money will go to charity, and I’ll be free of Camille forever.”
“The people of Eatonville were blessed the day you chose our town as your home.” Sandy squeezed Sawyer’s hand. “And my son is blessed you chose him as a friend. His shoulders can take whatever Camille the Witch throws his way. We both can.”
Once again, Beck’s mother proved she was a gem, a priceless jewel. And by the look on her face, Sawyer agreed.
“Thank you.” Sawyer blinked back the moisture from her eyes. “Though I’m not sure which of us did the choosing.”
“Blame Archie and his skateboard,” Beck chuckled. “And a bag of chicken manure.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
♫~♫~♫
“THREE MONTHS INTO our friendship thing, and the perks keep getting better and better.”
To prove his point, Beck peeled back the paper on his second cupcake while still savoring the last bite of his first.
“Friendship thing?” Sawyer chuckled. “Your vocabulary could use some work.”
“I do better when the words are set to music.”
“Are you writing again?” she asked with a hopeful sparkle in her eyes.
Though he tried to convince himself songwriting was part of his past, Beck never really stopped. Composing, like playing the drums, was in his blood.
“A son
g or two might be in the works,” he teased.
“When can I hear one? Or better yet, sing one?”
Sawyer, aware of what he thought of her musical talent, warmed up her vocal cords with a series of off-key scales. Beck winced, and she upped the volume.
“Woman, you are a menace to the human ear and an affront to all forms of music.”
Undeterred, Sawyer continued what he could only categorize as caterwauling. From his place in the corner of her office, Ringo raised his head and howled.
“And you said my voice was a menace.” She tossed the dog a treat. “Ringo’s a fan.”
“To the human ear.” Shaking his head, Beck gave up. “You want to tell me what’s keeping you awake at night?”
“What makes you think I can’t sleep,” Sawyer said with a confused frown.
“The three dozen cupcakes—minus a couple. You bake when you can’t sleep. So…?”
“I also bake when Take Back Our Lakes needs goodies for their fundraiser. The extras are for my staff—and you—to enjoy.”
“No more insomnia?”
“Your concern is appreciated.” She smiled. “However, getting a full night's sleep hasn’t been a problem for a while now.”
“Good,” Beck said. “Any particular reason?”
“Jogging every morning helps.”
“With me.” He shot her a self-satisfied grin.
“Don’t look so smug,” Sawyer warned. “If you’ll recall, I ran before we met.”
“And had trouble sleeping. Admit the truth. I’m the x-factor.”
“The truth?” she chuckled. “Okay. You put me to sleep. Happy?”
Beck was happy in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. And Sawyer was the reason. She stimulated his mind and his body. A rare combination.
In the teasing department, like a well-matched tennis opponent, the woman gave as good as she got. Time for him to return service.
“With me in your life, everything’s better.”
“Leave before your ego sucks all the oxygen from the room.”
“Even your quips have improved since we met,” Beck said.
“The size of your head is expanding as we speak.” Lips twitching, Sawyer pointed toward the door. “Go.”
“I can’t believe you’d kick me and my dog out the door.”
“Ringo’s welcome to stay.”
“Despite his love for your homemade doggy treats, his loyalty rests with me. You kick me out, he goes too.”
“I’ll miss Ringo.” Sawyer blew a kiss to the dog.
“Fine, we’ll go.” Beck had an appointment he had to get to, as Sawyer knew. “Mind if I use your sink first? I have cupcake all over my hands?”
“Because you’re greedy.” With an indulgent smile, she nodded toward the bathroom. “You don’t have to ask.”
Habit, Beck thought as he closed the door behind him. By now, he and Sawyer had settled into the easy rhythm of close friends. Didn’t matter if he still wanted to strip her naked and spend a week acquainting himself with every inch of her body.
Sawyer spent the better part of four years trying not to get romantically involved. He needed to ease her into the idea. Patience was the secret, and Beck had all the time in the world.
Maybe not all the time. Sawyer had a habit of falling asleep in front of the TV. Somehow, she always ended snuggled up in his arms. In the ongoing battle he waged between honor and lust, honor held an ever-narrowing edge.
Beck dried his hands and was about to grab Ringo and head out when he caught the sound of a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize coming from Sawyer’s office. Business, he supposed. He reached for the door, freezing when the new voice rose in anger.
“I can’t believe I raised such a selfish daughter,” the woman cried.
“I learned from the master, Mom.”
Ouch, Beck winced at what he called a direct hit. Sawyer’s mother seemed unfazed. He searched his memory for the woman’s name. Bernice? Barbara? No, Bianca. Bianca seemed unfazed.
“One point two billion dollars! Do you know what you could do with that kind of money?”
“No. But I bet you have a few good ideas you want to share.”
“I’m not the point.”
“Since when?” Sawyer snorted.
“Keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady. I’m still your mother.”
The sound of Sawyer’s sigh was followed by a moment of silence. Beck could almost picture her counting to ten.
“Civil I can do since you’re more like a distant acquaintance than a blood relative,” she said. “You weren’t around while David and I were married. You couldn’t be bothered to show up for his funeral. I’ve seen you a grand total of two times in the past four years.”
“Your stepfather is a very busy man and likes me to travel with him on business.”
“Which stepfather? Number six, or seven?”
“Aldo Shields,” Bianca said. “You haven’t met.”
“Then he’s number eight. Unless I missed another wedding?”
“I—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sawyer interrupted. “If things are so peachy with Aldo, why did you suddenly decide to pressure me about the money?”
“You didn’t tell me the terms of David’s will. From bitter experience, I realized you haven’t claimed the money out of sheer stubbornness. My duty is to change your mind.”
“Camille contacted you.”
“We may have exchanged a text or two.”
“Oh, no.” Sawyer laughed without a trace of humor. “Camille doesn’t do texts. She flew you to Los Angeles. First class. Did she put you up at a five-star hotel, or are you a guest at the mansion?”
“I am your mother.”
“The mansion.”
“Do you begrudge a little luxury?” Bianca whined.
Obviously familiar with the routine, Sawyer ignored the invitation to join her mother’s pity party.
“Camille must be desperate to bring you in.” Again, Sawyer paused. “She’s worried about Beck.”
“She’s a woman with a plan,” Bianca said. “Beck Kramer is a has-been wannabe rock star. A nobody.”
“Beck doesn’t need me to defend him.”
Damn straight. Beck nodded.
“Why not marry Mills? He’s a lovely young man. So handsome and well-mannered.”
“Trust me, his good behavior goes right out the window when he’s determined to grab your ass.”
Beck scowled. Sawyer hadn’t mentioned that Mills got handsy with her.
“He’s passionate, and if I’m not mistaken, a little in love with you.”
“Yuck,” Sawyer yelped.
“Think how beautiful your children would be.”
Double yuck, Beck shuddered.
“You’re ready to be a grandmother?” Sawyer snorted. “You barely managed motherhood.”
“You want me to admit I’m motivated by money?” Suddenly, all business, Bianca dropped all pretense as to why she was there. “Fine. Here’s the truth. My husband left me, I’m pushing fifty, and I want some security in my waning years.”
“By selling your soul to Camille and my body to Mills?” A drawer slammed. “Here’s a check for five thousand dollars. Take it. You won’t get another penny.”
“One point five billion, Sawyer.” Bianca sounded near tears.
“Goodbye, Mother.”
“But—”
Ringo barked, then did something highly out of character; the dog let out a low, ominous growl. A second later, the office door slammed.
Beck was in a pickle. He wanted to comfort Sawyer. Or be a sounding board. Or give her a warm body to bounce her curses off. But to do any of those things, he had to walk out of the bathroom and admit he’d eavesdropped on every word she’d exchanged with her mother.
“You can come out now, Beck.”
With a sigh, Beck slipped through the door, hoping his expression expr
essed half the consternation he felt.
“I was trapped.”
“You and me both.” Sitting on her desk, Sawyer covered her face with her hands. “She’s crazy.”
“A trait you didn’t inherit.” Beck wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His gaze landed on the dog who watched with interest from his place in the corner. “Guess Ringo finally met someone he doesn’t like.”
“My hero.” She attempted a half-hearted smile.
“Do you want to scream?”
“No.”
“Hit me?”
“Maybe later.”
Beck hated seeing Sawyer in a funk, a place she rarely landed.
“Let’s get out of town.”
“You have someplace in mind?” she asked, surprised by the out of the blue suggestion.
“Las Vegas.”
“You? A gambler?”
“I’ve played a hand of poker or two in my time. But not tonight.” Beck pulled Sawyer to her feet. “I was invited to a little get-together.”
“When?” she asked as he helped her on with her jacket.
“Been a few weeks, but I didn’t plan to go until now. I think we both could use a change of pace.”
“Beck…” Sawyer dragged her feet. “I’m not in the mood to socialize.”
“By the time we get glammed up and hit the strip, you will be.”
“What should I wear?” she asked, still not convinced.
Taking the back way out, Beck bundled her into her truck.
“Something with sparkle.”
“Are meeting the queen?” Sawyer laughed, a few clouds lifting from her eyes.
“Not quite,” he said. “However, before the evening’s through, I guarantee we’ll rub elbows with royalty.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
♫~♫~♫
WHEN BECK TOLD Sawyer to wear something sparkly for their night out in Las Vegas, he was certain whatever she put on would be perfect; she could make a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt look like high fashion.
However, when Sawyer opened her apartment door a mere three hours after he watched her drive away from the nursery, perfect didn’t do her justice. She redefined the word.
“Wow,” Beck said.
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