Gathered Up

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Gathered Up Page 16

by Annabeth Albert


  We got off at the Washington Park MAX stop, taking the big escalator up to street level, Sawyer grinning like a little kid who had never been up so high before. And damn if I didn’t smile a bit, too. He was just that infectious. No crushes. Not even a small one, I reminded myself sternly.

  The line to get into the zoo on a Friday night in December was insane. It felt like every family in the metropolitan area had come to see the lit-up zoo displays and animals made out of thousands of lights.

  “When was the last time you did the ZooLights?” Sawyer asked as we waited in line.

  “I never have,” I admitted.

  “Oh wow. I can’t wait to watch your face.” Sawyer peered much too intently into my eyes. “I come every year. But then, I’ve got a zoo membership so I come to all the special events.”

  “I remember the year your parents got everyone memberships to different places. That was the year Char and Tucker were married right? They got me one to the Art Museum. I’ve kept it up ever since.”

  “Mom would be delighted to know that. You could tell her yourself on—”

  “Ah-ah.” I made a warning noise. “You promised. I have to feel sufficient holiday spirit first.”

  “Just you wait. Just you wait.” He totally looked like a lion waiting to pounce on me before it was our turn to pay. We got in free with Sawyer’s membership. Once in, there was a lit pathway proclaiming “ZooLights” and a volunteer handing out programs and maps.

  “I’m buying you a coffee or something inside,” I grumbled. His doing all the paying and the steering me from place to place was starting to feel decidedly datelike, something we couldn’t have.

  “See, I waited until later in the evening to bring you,” Sawyer explained as we walked down the main path. “Less crowded.”

  “This is less?” We were being jostled along by a steady stream of visitors, most of whom were families with young children.

  “Trust me. This is less.” He grabbed my arm. “Stick close, though.”

  “Not that close.” I took my arm back.

  “Oh, Hols—”

  “Wow.” I came to a dead stop, interrupting him and causing him to bump into me at the same instant, and I cared not one whit. All of a sudden the pathway had become illuminated with thousands of red lights lining the walls, red, blue, and purple trees looming over.

  “Is that a hint of wonder in your voice, Hollis?”

  “Oh hush.” I meandered in a haze, as the walls shifted from red to blue and creatures were revealed along the walkway—a stunning peacock in blues and pinks, a menacing alligator, and a flock of happy hippos. We picked up steaming cups of hot chocolate from a vendor and I barely paid her any mind as I marveled at the animals made of lights behind her.

  “Dragons are not zoo creatures,” I observed at a yellow and red fire-breathing display that was easily longer than my entire store.

  “Look at the lit-up train coming through.” Sawyer pointed to the zoo train pulling into the station. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. “Oh hey, we’d better hurry!”

  “Are we riding the train?” I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice. I knew Sawyer’s love of trains, and while I wasn’t thrilled with the crowd on the platform, I quietly shared his love. While I hadn’t come during ZooLights before, few children grow up in Portland without riding the zoo train at least once. And even as an adult, nothing was more relaxing to me than the train ride up to Seattle or Vancouver for a weekend away.

  “Yup. I got our tickets online.” Sawyer bounced on the balls of his feet.

  “Sawyer…you…” I trailed off, unsure how to express my gratitude. “You went through a lot of trouble for this bet.”

  “It was worth it. You should have seen your face as we came down the path.”

  My chest went strangely tight and I had no idea what to reply to that. We slid into the last compartment together, him on the outside, me on the inside. It was a tight squeeze for two grown men, but the conductor was packing everyone in.

  “All aboard!” the conductor yelled, and my pulse raced like a little kid’s as the small engine let out a piercing whistle.

  “Here we go,” Sawyer said excitedly.

  And lo, what magic unfolded as we chugged through those lights. I still…I lack the words for the splendor of the colors and shapes and imagery we saw. There were many lights we hadn’t seen on our walk through the grounds—special displays only visible from the trains. And during it all, Sawyer was pressed against me. He smelled like chocolate and fir and, like he had at Char and Tucker’s wedding, he also smelled vaguely of the ocean.

  “Come on, Hols. I dare you. Dance with me.”

  “Right here?” I gestured to the balcony where I’d escaped from the party only to be discovered by Sawyer.

  “Right here. Because you won’t inside.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “It’s not you, Sawyer. It’s…there are so many people and…”

  “Shh.” He took me in his arms, then, music from the DJ wafting out onto the balcony, providing a little pretext for the contact we’d been dancing toward all weekend at the resort. He’d volunteered to pick me up, sharing the long drive to the resort together, and something indefinable had shifted between us. All my stern lectures to myself not to fall for his charms went ignored. We were flirtier. Snarking less. Talking more, everything leading up to this moment of inevitability. He smelled like the ocean, like champagne and something woodsy, and it was all I could do to follow his lead.

  On the train the lights sped by, excited squeals from the children in the cars ahead of us. “Oh Sawyer,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He touched my face, cold, bare thumb scraping along my smooth cheek. I’d shaved that morning—not for him, but because I always did. Still, though, it brought me strange pleasure, knowing he could probably smell my aftershave, feel my skin. He’d removed his fuzzy glove for a reason, one that was boldly apparent when he turned his gaze toward me.

  His lips lowered to mine, right there on the zoo train, as we headed around a curve. And it was like kissing a memory—a soft whisper of something that had almost been.

  We were kissing against the ferns on the balcony. It hadn’t really been about dancing, and I’d known that. Champagne and too little food sloshed in my veins, making me giddy at his touch. We swayed gently, the barest nod toward the music, but Sawyer’s mouth plundered mine. All wedding weekend he’d flirted and I’d parried, and we’d been building to something big, he and I. And it was scary and it was wrong and I needed to stop it, but right then all I could do was kiss him.

  “Dare you to come up to my room.” Sawyer pulled away slightly, eyes twinkling in the darkness.

  The train lurched, pulling me back to awareness of Sawyer’s mouth on mine, warm and hungry. He tasted like chocolate and temptation.

  “Coming into the station,” the intercom boomed and I jerked away, sloshing my now-cool hot chocolate on my leg.

  “I—”

  “Ohmigod! There you guys are!” A very tipsy Char made her way onto the patio, right as I’d been figuring out my reply. She slung an arm around both of us. “You guys are totally next!”

  And just like that my answer had become crystal clear. There was no next, not where Sawyer was concerned. I was just a weekend diversion, nothing more. I shook my head at Sawyer and escaped the wedding reception as soon as I could.

  “Sorry,” Sawyer mumbled.

  “We can’t do this,” I whispered.

  “Not here?”

  “Not at all and you know why.”

  “Hols, we’re not actually related. You get that right?” Sawyer shook his head at me as we disembarked. “And despite how you like to act, we’re not actually archenemies. We can kiss.”

  “Shh,” I hissed, aware a few people had glanced in our direction at the word kiss
. “Keep your voice down. I should have said I can’t do this. I can’t.” And with that I fled, past the lights, past the crowds, past the sound of Sawyer’s voice, memories and regrets dogging my steps.

  Chapter 4

  By the time I reached the birthday party for Aria the next day, I was itchy from the haircut and tired from the walk to the cleaners and then to Char and Tucker’s Craftsman, which was located in the same artsy neighborhood as my store and my condo but tucked on a quieter residential street. Like always, I had to take a moment on the wide front porch. Three years, almost, and I still wasn’t used to Tucker’s bike, not Dad’s, chained to the porch, the stroller in front of the porch swing instead of the low table with Mom’s gardening magazines. The redwood porch rails were new, too, part of the spruce-up job Tucker had undertaken. Gone was the rail where I’d etched my name with a homemade pen, but I still rested my hands in that space and breathed. In. Out.

  It had been natural for Char and Tucker to get the house. They needed a bigger place, and this was always meant to be a family home. I’d gotten more of the liquid investments and life insurance money, which allowed me to start my store, and she’d gotten the house. After all, I’d gotten my long-time dream of a carefully curated store. She should get her dream, too. I didn’t begrudge her wanting it, nor modernizing it for the needs of her growing family, but damn if I didn’t hurt every time I went in. The door swung open and there was Tucker, who was smaller and leaner than Sawyer but with the same boyish grin.

  “Hollis, come in, come in!” Once upon a time we’d been best friends, united by our more flamboyant siblings, quietly watching from the sidelines together. Then, slowly, he’d joined in their exploits and I’d stayed behind, still watching. The last few years we’d talked some, but it wasn’t the same as those early years. Still, though, I accepted his back-slapping hug and tried to match his smile.

  “The birthday girl has been asking for Uncle Holly.”

  “Has she, now?” I put a smile on my face, straightened my shoulders and back. “Lead me to her! Oh, I see the living room is turquoise now. How…lovely.”

  “Your sister has been on a nesting tear lately. She had Sawyer and me in here last two weekends getting everything set for the holidays and the birthdays.”

  Yes, he really did mean birthdays plural—he and Sawyer had a birthday coming up on December 18. As if this month wasn’t crowded enough. And speaking of crowds, the living and dining rooms held Tucker and Sawyer’s parents—both sets—their biological sister and two stepbrothers along with Sawyer, who was sitting on the floor playing blocks with Aria and two other small children. Char was busy with something in the kitchen, but I could hear her humming holiday music as she worked.

  “Char, do you need a hand?” I called. Please need a hand.

  “Not at all,” she called back.

  Of course Sawyer chose that moment to look up and our eyes met, the memory of last night passing between us.

  I didn’t forget, his raised eyebrow said.

  I didn’t expect you to, my glare replied.

  “Hollis, are you nursing a grudge that Sawyer won the decorating contest?” Tucker asked, concerned professional voice firmly in place. He worked as a psychiatric nurse practitioner over at Legacy Health, and if I heard the suggestion of grief counseling from him one more time, I might throw one of my sister’s colorful tapestry pillows.

  “No, sorry, just a bit of a long walk today. Must be a bit fatigued.”

  “Sit, sit,” Phillip, Sawyer and Tucker’s father, urged, giving up his place on the couch, so of course I had to sit, right near where Sawyer was playing on the floor.

  “Unca Holly! Prezzie!” Aria squealed when she saw what I had in my hand and ran over.

  “Yes, darling, a present for you. Happy birthday.” I picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek before handing over the box. She smelled like baby shampoo and cake, but it was the nearby scent of Sawyer’s aftershave that clung to my nostrils.

  She toddled over to the stack of other presents and dropped mine in the mix. “Now? Now?”

  I would have said yes, but of course Char had an order for these things. Snack food. Mingling. Cake. Then, finally, presents. I waited through the block sets, board books, trains, little creatures, and dollhouse from the other aunts and uncles before it was my turn.

  “Babies!” Aria shredded the wrapping paper as I knew she would. Toddlers do not share my affinity for artisanal papers, as two years of uncledom had shown me. She revealed the two twin baby dolls nestled in their wicker carrier.

  “From France,” Sawyer added. I might have kicked him. I’m not proud.

  “Mine own babyeeeeee,” Aria sang and danced around. It was the best reaction she’d had to a gift all afternoon, and I was feeling awfully smug until Sawyer said, “One more gift, half-pint.”

  He disappeared with Tucker into the hall and wheeled in a car. A car?

  You’re joking right? I tried to catch his eye as the two of them situated the giant plastic monstrosity in the middle of the room. It lit up. It made sounds. It had seat belts.

  “Baby! Baby!” Aria dragged the babies by their arms over to the car, dropped them in the trunk, and pedaled away. “Mine own car!”

  Sawyer got a best-uncle-ever high five from Tucker and the stepbrothers, and I drifted away to the kitchen, which was mercifully empty. Char was sitting with her feet up in the other room, and I didn’t want her to have to face a messy room when she got up. Lord knew I couldn’t cope with this level of chaos. I got the counters clear first, then sponged them down, becoming calmer and less homicidal toward Sawyer the more I worked.

  I was filling the sink with hot water for the dishes when I heard someone else come in. I could tell it was Sawyer without turning around because the air always seemed to crackle when he was nearby. Maybe it was his scent or the heaviness of his tread, but regardless, I’d always been able to sense his presence that way.

  “Here, move over,” he said, coming to stand next to me at the sink. “I’ll wash and you can dry.”

  “I’m fine. You go mingle with your family.”

  “Oh, they can spare me.” Sawyer laughed. “And you hate the washing part. So let me, and we can be done doubly quick.”

  “Fine. I’ll empty the dishwasher while you get started.”

  “You know where everything goes.” Sawyer rolled his sleeves up. His forearms were a thing of beauty, but for once his words distracted me more.

  “That I do.”

  There must have been something in my voice that tipped Sawyer off. “Oh, Hols, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Nothing to think of,” I said and stacked the bowls neatly in the same cupboard my mother had put them my whole childhood.

  “You got a haircut,” Sawyer observed. I didn’t think he’d ever noticed my hair before. Or anyone’s hair really.

  “I did.” I carefully slid Grandma Rose’s cake platter into the cupboard above the fridge.

  “Are we going to talk about last night?” Sawyer asked as I finished up the silverware.

  “Nothing to talk about,” I said. “I am sorry for running off, though. You…went to a surprising amount of effort.”

  “Hollis. I don’t want an A for effort here.”

  “Yes, well, what do you want?” I regretted the question almost as soon as I said it.

  “Right this minute I’m debating between throttling you and kissing you. Can I have both?”

  “Neither.”

  Sawyer moved, trapping me against the cupboards. This was an old house, with the kitchen tucked in the rear of the place. From where we were standing, no one in the dining room or living room could see us. I still shivered.

  “If I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t scream, and we both know it.” Sawyer’s voice was full of challenge.

  I blinked. “I never scream. I might bite you, thou
gh.”

  “Yeah?” He came in alarmingly close. “Prove it.” He glided his lips over mine. He tasted like chocolate and Char’s strong coffee and like the worst kind of temptation.

  I didn’t scream. I didn’t bite. I didn’t quietly endure. Instead, some alien impulse took over my body and I kissed him back like I’d seldom kissed anyone. Kissing always seemed like such a messy, intimate business, but with Sawyer it was different. His tongue was less invasion and more welcome invitation, and he seemed to know how to keep things from getting too moist and sloppy—a big bonus. Actually, Sawyer seemed to know a lot more about kissing than I, and he used that knowledge—and teeth, tongue, and lips—to tease and torture and work me up until I was rocking into his embrace.

  I was painfully hard and he was pressed close enough that I could feel the thick length of him through his jeans.

  He pulled away slightly. “Now would be a good time to remind you that I live—”

  “Sawyer? Can you bring me a coffee?” Christine called from the living room.

  Sawyer groaned softly, then raised his voice. “Just a sec, Mom. You want anything in it?”

  “With coconut creamer and stevia. Thanks, sweetie!”

  “I’d better get back out there, too,” I said, still breathing hard. I straightened my shirt and adjusted my pants and willed my body to return to normal.

  “Hollis?” Sawyer stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re not done with this. Not hardly.”

  That was exactly what I was afraid of.

  * * * *

  All week I felt on edge, waiting for Sawyer to spring something new on me. And truth be told, I was a bit disappointed when Friday morning arrived and I hadn’t seen the man. I’d expected him to press me for…well, something after the kiss, but he hadn’t. Friday, though, I had weightier concerns on my mind. I’d actually considered closing the store; the first two years I had, taking a rare personal day, but this year, it felt like the world had well and truly moved on, and I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.

 

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