Nothing. That’s where my daydreams usually hit roadblocks. I could never realistically, vividly imagine what he would say to me. I could fantasize about what I wanted him to say to me all day long.
I can’t stop thinking about you. I spend every second of every day thinking about you.
I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.
I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember not loving you.
Any of those would work, but was that what he would say? I had no idea. No context. I’d never even seen him with a girlfriend. Rumors were that he dated women out of town, mainly in Parrish Creek and Dallas.
Dated was probably too strong of a word to use for what he did. If what people said was true, he’d had a series of monogamous hook-ups. Basically, a few months of what boiled down to a series of one-night stands and then he’d move onto someone else. My older sister Maisy met a woman that claimed to have been with Sawyer for almost six months, but she said that things never got past the physical. He never talked about himself. His life. His family. She kept expecting him to open up, but he never did. He was as much a stranger after six months and countless sexual encounters as he’d been when they’d met at The Double Wide bar, a live music venue in Dallas.
There was a reason Sawyer kept everyone at arm’s length. There had to be. I just had no idea what it was or how to find out. The general consensus when it came to his brooding ways was that he didn’t like talking. I was sure that there was some truth to that theory. He was a private person, and I’d never met anyone that personified the strong, silent stereotype like he did. But there was something else. Something that made him hold back.
I’d tried for years to Nancy Drew my way to the truth beneath the mystery that was Sawyer Briggs. I’d followed clues, tracked down leads, interviewed suspects, and still, I had no answers. That man was as much a mystery to me today as he’d always been.
I picked up my list that I hoped would finally crack the code and glanced over the thirty-six questions that were scientifically proven to create intimacy. It was the list that had planted the seed for this entire experiment.
Up until a year ago, I’d thought I’d hit a dead end in my pursuit of the enigma that was Sawyer Briggs. Then I’d read The New York Times article “The 36 Questions that Lead to Love.” It explored whether or not intimacy between strangers could be fast-tracked by them answering thirty-six questions. The resounding results were yes. Yes, they could.
That gave me an idea. What if I could ask Sawyer these questions and he felt obligated to answer them? Which led me to showing up at Briggs Construction with brownies to suggest that an apprenticeship where Sawyer was required to answer all questions asked of him might be a nice addition to his donation. I set the list down and jumped, startled as my phone buzzed.
I picked it up as I turned my attention back to the mirror. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. Mrs. Nelson needs a ride to the fundraiser. Your father offered to take her, but I just talked to your sisters, and they were planning on riding with us in case they wanted to have a glass of wine or two so we won’t have room. I need you to swing by and pick her up.” It wasn’t a question. “Oh, and I forgot the arrangement that I planned on giving the mayor and his wife, can you grab it from the shop on your way?”
First off, swing by? Mrs. Nelson barely lived in Wishing Well, her house butted up against the city limit and was as far away from town as you could get. It would take me a good twenty minutes, at least, to swing by and pick her up. Second, what if I wanted to have a glass of wine, or two? Now I was a designated driver. Third, why couldn’t they grab the arrangement from the shop? We both lived the same distance away, and now I had to go all the way out to Lambert Road to play Uber driver.
“Sure,” I answered out of habit.
All my life, I’d done what I was supposed to do, I’d done what was expected of me without any complaint. When my sisters would make excuses as to why they couldn’t help my mother with dinner or the dishes, I was in the kitchen by her side. As teenagers, when we were all scheduled to work at the shop, I was the one that showed up on time and never flaked. When they all snuck out to go to parties, I stayed home for fear that my parents would’ve been worried if they’d discovered all four of their daughters weren’t home. When the triplets all decided they wanted nothing to do with running The Flower Pot, I abandoned my dreams to move to a big city, stayed home and worked to help my parents out.
“Great. We’ll see you soon.” The phone disconnected.
A simple thank you would’ve been nice, but I knew it was too much to ask. I didn’t think that my mom intentionally took me for granted, I thought it was just easy to overlook me. The triplets cast quite a large shadow, and that was the darkness that I’d been born into. It wasn’t that my sisters tried to steal the spotlight, it just naturally shined on them, and they absorbed all of the light, leaving none for me.
When I was younger and always doing exactly what I was told so that my parents would notice and give me special attention, it never worked. Instead, I think my behavior caused them to see me less. They saw through me like I was invisible. I was never able to catch the acknowledgment and appreciation I’d been desperately chasing.
A thought occurred to me as I grabbed my clutch. Maybe that was why I’d been attracted to a man that didn’t give me the time of day. I was still just chasing something that was out of my reach.
No. I shook my head. This was different.
I wasn’t some doormat that was getting stepped on. Sawyer didn’t take me for granted. He wasn’t taking advantage of me…although, I wouldn’t mind if he did.
I was an independent woman that was taking her destiny into her own hands. I had a plan, and I was going to execute it with my head held high. Then whatever the outcome was I could walk away with no regrets.
No. Regrets.
Chapter 5
Sawyer
“When life throws you a curve ball and you swing, you either miss or hit it out of the park, but at least you’re not sitting on the bench.”
~ Grant Turner
Nope. Not her.
Disappointment swelled in me as I watched Brady Calhoun strut into the fundraiser which had started an hour ago. Every time the door opened, I checked to see if it was her. Her parents and sisters had shown up over an hour ago, and I was starting to get concerned. She’d completely missed dinner and Sheriff Reed was going to be announcing the winning bids any minute.
Was she sick?
Had she fallen and hurt herself?
Had she gotten all dolled up for a mystery date and he’d taken one look at her when she opened the door and they hadn’t made it past her front porch?
Lifting my arm, I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. My mind was like a runaway train when it came to that girl. It went off the tracks full steam ahead, and there was nothing that I could do to stop it.
My brother Cooper slapped me on the shoulder as he joined me near the stage. “I heard Edith got frisky at the fitting.”
My sister had a big mouth. I was sure my entire family knew about the incident now, and I was sure they would be bringing it up for years to come. I ignored him.
“Also heard that you were going to be getting an assistant.”
“Apprentice,” I corrected him.
He shrugged. “Same difference.”
No. It wasn’t. This was exactly why I kept my thoughts to myself. People liked to hear themselves talk and were going to believe what they wanted no matter what I had to say. It was a waste of breath.
“I also heard that mom and dad think you’re battin’ for the other team.”
“Damn, Coop.” He was worse than a gossiping teenage girl.
“Hey, man.” Amusement bled through his words as he lifted his hands. “I’m all good with it. More women for me.”
He started listing the ways that me being gay would serve him well, but I was saved from having to listen to it when
Sheriff Reed stepped up to the mic. “All right folks, as you know there’s been a silent auction for the past week, and it’s time to name the highest bidders.”
I stood beside Coop as the sheriff read off the winners of the items up for auction. My mind wandered, like it always did, to Delilah. I could still feel the way her body molded against mine when we’d collided today like a phantom limb. I could still smell the light flower scent that was uniquely hers. I could still hear her soft voice saying yes when I asked her if she was okay.
Five minutes or fifteen could’ve passed, I had no idea, when Coop elbowed me, snapping me out of my flashback, as he whispered, “Holy shit!”
I blinked and realized that the entire room was applauding and looking in our direction. “What happened?”
“Five K. Your project and assistant thing went for five thousand dollars.”
“What the fu…” I stopped just short of dropping the F-bomb in front of the entire town.
Sheriff Reed leaned towards the mic. “I’ll have to fact check this, but I think that is the highest bid we’ve ever had and it comes from…”
He paused. I was sure it was for dramatic effect and it worked. I was on the edge of my seat. Who in the hell would spend five thousand dollars for a weekend project and an apprenticeship?
“Delilah Turner.”
“What the fuck!” This time I didn’t catch myself.
Thankfully, the applause that had erupted after her name was read drowned out my cursing. My heart sped, and my mind tried to puzzle together why in the hell that girl would spend that kind of money on this.
I knew that she’d been working on renovations for her house, the guys down at the lumber yard and Mr. Tate at Wishing Well Hardware had filled me in on her various projects. They’d all been impressed by her, not just her knowledge, but also the quality of her work which they’d seen posted on her FB page. I wasn’t on any social media, so I took their word for it.
But that only made her paying such a significant amount for work that I was sure she could probably handle on her own even more confusing.
“I haven’t seen Ms. Turner tonight, but on behalf of the city council, I want to say thank you for her generous bid. And also,” Sheriff Reed motioned towards me, “I’d like to extend our gratitude to Sawyer Briggs of Briggs Construction for his creative donation.”
The crowd went wild again before the rest of the winning bids were read. After the presentation was over, I was bombarded with people offering their congratulations and theories on why Delilah was so generous with her bid. I wasn’t listening to anything they had to say. Coop, on the other hand, was eating the attention up and had no problem fielding all of the comments.
My mind wasn’t in the conversations that were happening around me. It was too busy wrapping itself around the new development that rendered my, keep my distance rule null and void.
How in the hell was I supposed to keep my distance now?
How in the hell was I supposed to keep my sanity now?
How in the hell was I supposed to keep my mind on my work with her beside me?
There were a lot of things that I wanted to show her, to teach her, none of them had anything to do with construction. The constant flow of people that I’d been ignoring finally died down and then a person I couldn’t overlook appeared in front of Coop and me.
“Whoa!” Harmony exclaimed. “Did you have any idea that she was going to bid that high?”
“No.”
“She didn’t say anything when we saw her, but maybe that was why she took off so fast. Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise, and she didn’t want to give it away.”
“When did you see her?” Coop asked, sounding every bit the gossipy teenage girl that he had earlier.
“Today,” Harmony gladly filled him in. “We ran into her. Literally. Well, Sawyer did anyway. She was coming out of the salon. We talked for a minute, and I even brought up the apprenticeship—”
“It’s not an apprenticeship.” It was a distinction I kept making, even though no one was listening.
“Whatever. The point is she acted like she didn’t know anything about it. She didn’t say anything. Remember?” She swatted my arm.
Of course I remembered. I remembered everything when it came to that girl.
Harmony’s eyes widened. “Do you think it was a mistake? Do you think she meant one thousand not five thousand? Do you think that’s why she’s not here?”
“No,” I answered as all of my awareness narrowed to a pinpoint focus.
“How do you know?”
My entire body tightened with the same need that had caused it to shake when I was shaving. “Because she just walked in.”
Chapter 6
Delilah
“When nothing goes right, go left.”
~ Grant Turner
“Well, isn’t this pretty?” Mrs. Nelson held onto my arm as we entered through the lighted arch.
I tried to hold the irritation that had been building like a pressure cooker inside of me and was about to explode at bay. “Yep, it sure is.”
“It looks like dinner’s over and we’re just in time for the party. I never liked the dry chicken they serve at these things, anyway.” Mrs. Nelson patted my hand. “Oh, I see Dixie Rose and Edith are here. I’m gonna go say howdy.”
I watched as Mrs. Nelson made her way to her friends and tried to shake off the feeling of dread that was consuming me. Nothing about this night was going right, and it gave me a bad feeling about my entire plan. It felt like this was a race, and I hadn’t even made it off the starting block while the rest of the runners had lapped the track several times.
My first stop had been to the shop, where I was unable to find the arrangement my mom had made for the mayor. I called her and she told me that my dad had picked it up, so my trip had been for nothing.
Then, when I arrived at Mrs. Nelson’s, she opened the door in her housecoat, slippers, and a head full of curlers. I’d immediately offered to come back and pick her up later, but she’d dismissed that idea promising it would only take her “a few minutes to get gussied up.” She’d lied. My sisters had always taken forever in the bathroom getting ready, but the triplets had nothing on Barbara Jean Nelson. I’d tried to speed along the process by offering to take the curlers out of her hair and apply her makeup, but she’d insisted that it was half the fun of a night on the town.
An hour and a half had rolled by before we made it here, and I’d been tempted, once again, to abort the mission. I’d thought about just dropping Mrs. Nelson off and then going home to regroup. But I knew if I gave into that feeling, if I didn’t show up tonight, I’d regret it. I had to keep my eye on the prize.
Lifting my head, I did just that when I locked gazes with Sawyer Briggs from across the room. Most of my night might’ve been hijacked and it had taken some detours to get here. But now that I was, it was the exact scene that I’d pictured when I was doing my visualization. I’d just entered the event and was standing beneath a blanket of twinkle lights. He was across the room, in the same corner I’d imagined. He wore a dark gray button-up shirt and black slacks, no tie, no jacket, looking like a dark angel sent from heaven to save the world. He held a drink in his left hand. He stared at me for a moment before his stare drifted lower, down my entire body and back up. The heat of his stare washed over me like a summer breeze. It was so strong, so real, so tangible, that I half expected my skirt to blow up in a recreation of the famous picture of Marilyn standing over the grate.
Before I’d even had a chance to adjust to the sensation of having Sawyer Briggs’ undivided attention directed at me, the second part of my visualization played out in real life. Sawyer started towards me like a lion stalking his prey. Everyone in the room went fuzzy. The only thing I could see was the mountain of a man headed my way. The blurred-out crowds parted for him, leaving an opening that led straight to me.
I reminded myself to breathe and tried not to freak out…on the outside at least. On the i
nside, I was going full on Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah’s couch. I tried to tell myself to play it cool, but that same voice was also screaming that it couldn’t believe this was actually happening. The synapses in my head were lighting up like a Christmas tree as thoughts zig-zagged around trying to make sense of what was transpiring.
The law of attraction was working. I’d read The Secret ten times, and the principals I’d learned were finally manifesting themselves. That was the only explanation my squirrel brain could come up with to justify why the man I’d spent a lifetime pining after, who rarely gave me the time of day, was now a couple of yards away from me and eating up the distance in long, purposeful strides. With each step he took my heart beat faster, my palms grew damper, and mind went blanker.
As he stopped directly in front of me, a surge of adrenaline—so strong it weakened my knees—rushed from my head to my toes. I stumbled back from its dizzying power but strong fingers wrapped around my upper arm, steadying me for the second time today. The heat of Sawyer’s grasp grounded me as much as it aroused me.
“Are you okay?” A crease formed on his forehead. “I think you should sit down.”
Well, it wasn’t I can’t stop thinking about you. I spend every second of every day thinking about you. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.
I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember not loving you…but I’d take it.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
Seducing Sawyer (Wishing Well, Texas Book 7) Page 4