Seducing Sawyer (Wishing Well, Texas Book 7)

by Melanie Shawn

  “Chop, chop.” She used the same phrase she’d used when she was a teacher as she wrapped her knuckles on my door before heading back up to the front.

  It had been almost two weeks since the fundraiser. Two weeks since I’d danced with Delilah, held her in my arms, and driven her to my favorite spot. The spot that I’d never taken anyone to or told anyone about.

  We’d been exchanging emails regarding the kitchen renovations that we were going to be working on this weekend, but I’d kept them as short and professional as possible. It had been easy to do since she had all of her materials ordered already and a game plan of what she wanted to accomplish day one and day two. With most clients I had to hold their hand through the design process, it was my least favorite part of the job. I should’ve known that Delilah wouldn’t be like that. She always exceeded expectations.

  Email had been our only interaction in the twelve days since that night. I’d been able to put my keep my distance into place, but it hadn’t helped as much as I’d thought it would. I’d hoped that the distance would give me some clarity as to how to handle this situation. It hadn’t. I wasn’t any closer to figuring out how in the hell I was supposed to spend any amount of time with Delilah and not lose my mind much less get any work done.

  Around her, I was beyond distracted and any common sense that I had flew right out the window. I think that was proven when I’d dragged her onto the dance floor after almost knocking Brady out and being tempted to do the same thing to my brother. I’d known Coop had only been doing what he was to piss me off and it’d worked. Then, I’d held her way too close, danced way too long, and would’ve gone way too far if her stomach hadn’t cut in. Not to mention, the turn I’d almost missed because Delilah was making soft sounds while she ate that my body interpreted as her enjoying pleasures of a sex-related nature. And after we’d parked, I’d turned music on a station that I knew played slow songs because, against my better judgment, I wanted the mood to be romantic. I wanted her to hear the things that were being sung about and think about me because apparently, I was a glutton for punishment.

  “Sawyer! Don’t make me come back there again!” I heard a shout from the front of the office.

  I stood knowing that if I didn’t, she would be back here and would use any means necessary to get me out the door. As I passed the front desk, Mrs. Higgins added another phrase that I’d been hearing since her teaching years. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to smile.”

  So, I answered her with the same response I’d been using since my freshman year of high school. I turned, pushing the glass door with my back and shot her a comically forced smile that probably made me look more constipated than happy.

  She had the same reaction she always had. Her head fell back as she laughed and said, “See? You’re still alive.”

  I grinned as I walked to my truck. I was lucky to have a big family filled with people that I loved and that loved me. But those weren’t people that I’d chosen to have in my life or who chose for me to be in theirs. Mrs. Higgins and I had no blood relation but she was my family, and I was hers.

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a message from my brother Coop offering to give up his weekend to come help out with Delilah’s project and field any and all questions that she may have. He’d been extending that same offer for the past two weeks. I immediately sent back my answer that hadn’t changed since the first time he asked: no.

  Even though I knew he was messing with me, just the thought of having a front row seat to him relentlessly flirting with her all day made my shoulders tense and my blood run hot. Before I’d even put my phone back in my pocket, it rang. I turned it over and saw it was Coop calling.

  So I answered with the same response. “No.”

  “Come on!” he pleaded. “Let’s be honest, talking is not your strong suit. I’ll answer all of her questions, and she’ll actually get her money’s worth having the handsome Briggs brother there.”

  I hung up. It rang again. It was Coop. I sent him straight to voicemail. By the time I’d reached my truck he’d called twice more, so I put it on vibrate.

  As I opened the door and got in, my phone buzzed. I saw it was Cooper, so I pushed the button that silenced the call but allowed it to continue ringing. I had seven little brothers, but Coop took the prize for being the most annoying. No contest.

  He was eight years younger than me, and before he could even walk on his own, my mom called him my shadow. He’d follow me around in the baby walker. As a kid, he copied everything I did. He imitated my mannerisms and the way I dressed. He adopted my likes and dislikes on everything from food, music, movies, and video games. The only thing he didn’t mimic was the one thing I wished he would have, my communication style. If talking were an Olympic sport, he’d win the gold, silver, and bronze. No other competitor would even place.

  I was just about to pull out of the parking lot when the Bluetooth connected to my truck told me another call was coming in. I hit the answer button on my steering wheel as I checked to my right and left to see if traffic was clear for me to pull out.

  “Stop calling me.” The seriousness in my tone was a level that I rarely used. Partly because most people listened the first time I spoke.

  “Oh…um…okay…sorry.”

  I recognized the stuttering voice on the other end of the line, and it was not coming from my brother. “Delilah,” I said her name as I looked down and verified what I already knew. Lit up on the screen in the center of my dashboard were the words Delilah Cell.

  Her voice was shaky and nervous. “I’m so sorry. Mrs. Higgins told me to call you she said—”

  “I thought you were Cooper.” I hated that she would ever think I would speak to her like that.

  “Oh…” She let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, well. I missed a call from your office because I was in the shower and when I called back Mrs. Higgins told me to call you.”

  I knew that she’d said other words after the word shower, but I had no idea what they were. My brain was frozen on that one. Images of Delilah naked with water running down her body flashed in my mind. One after the other.

  They were vivid, realistic, and detailed as if they were formed from memories instead of fantasies. In my mind’s eye, I watched single droplets of water slide down her generous curves. I saw the wet strands of her hair clinging to her creamy skin. My mouth watered at the sight of her full breasts, tipped with hardened pink nipples and the patch of wet, dark hair above her sex.

  “Sawyer? Are you there?”

  Delilah’s uncertain voice was like being splashed with cold water. I cleared my throat. “Yeah.”

  A ding sounded and I glanced down at the screen that had read Delilah’s number and saw a text appear at the bottom. It was from the office and said that I should be expecting a call from Delilah, and that I could tell her myself why I was running late.

  Yep. That was the woman I’d chosen to have as family.

  “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just running a little late.”

  “Oh.” Relief was evident in that one word. “No worries, so am I. I’ll see you soon.”

  She disconnected the call, and I stared at the screen that had just had her name written on it. The pure sincerity and heartfelt concern in her questions and her easy forgiveness of my tardiness put more cracks in the barriers I’d built around my heart.

  If I hadn’t known Delilah Turner her entire life, I would’ve thought that she was too good to be true. I didn’t see how it was possible that a girl as beautiful and charming as she was could be equally as sexy and seductive. I was awed that someone as smart and funny as her could be just as caring and nurturing. It blew my mind that a person as creative and talented somehow managed to match those qualities with humility and grace evenly.

  And I needed to stay as far away from her as possible.

  I was so screwed.

  Chapter 10

  Delilah

  “Learnin’ to
roll with the punches makes the fight a lot easier.”

  ~ Grant Turner

  “Oh, come on! Seriously?!”

  I flipped the switch on the hair dryer again as panic rose up inside of me. I’d already reset the breaker and tried several other outlets, so I knew the problem wasn’t with my electricity. My hairdryer had picked the worst time ever to stop working.

  Taking a deep breath through my nose and blowing it out through my mouth, I resisted the urge to throw it through the window. Just like the night of the fundraiser, nothing was going according to my plan this morning. Last night when I’d gone to bed, I’d been so nervous, and my mind wouldn’t stop playing out possible scenarios of what this weekend would be like that I hadn’t fallen asleep until four a.m. My alarm that was programmed to go off at six never did because my phone died. I’d been so preoccupied I’d forgotten to charge it.

  I’d woken up at seven fifty-nine. One minute before Sawyer was due to show up at eight a.m. After a few seconds of sheer horror, I quickly recovered and jumped in the shower in the hall bathroom with the door wide open so that I could hear if Sawyer knocked or rang the bell. I’d taken what had to go down as the fastest shower in history and jumped out, dried off and pulled on my favorite pair of jeans—the ones that emphasized my assets and deemphasized my gut—only to find that there was a hole that had worn in the inner thigh.

  I knew they were just pants, but I still had to fight back the tears. I wanted everything to go perfectly and feeling good was half the battle. The logical side of my brain knew that my self-worth shouldn’t be pinned on a pair of jeans, but the emotional side was devastated.

  After pulling myself together and getting dressed, I noticed that I’d missed a call from Briggs Construction. I’d been sure that he was calling to cancel. My heart had dropped like a lead balloon but I’d forced myself to face it, even if that was the case. To my great relief it wasn’t. He was running late. Just like me. It was the one silver lining in the entire morning.

  But he would be here literally any moment, and I looked like a drowned rat. Improvising, I quickly parted my hair and braided first the right then the left side. Then grabbed the Longhorns hat I’d had since freshman year of college and put it on. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing a white tank-top, blue jeans with a flannel tied around my waist, and an orange baseball cap. At least it didn’t look like I was trying too hard.

  I didn’t have much time to worry about the fact that I didn’t have any makeup on because there was a loud knock on the door. I froze for a moment, not sure if I’d be able to make my feet move. But then I used my countdown tool from the book Five Second Rule by Mel Robbins and my feet started moving. As I walked down the hallway I felt as out of breath as I was after half an hour on the elliptical. Nerves and excitement blended in a large pot that was boiling over.

  This was it. Over a year of planning came down to the next forty-eight hours.

  “I am enough. I am present. I am happy.”

  I repeated my mantra under my breath as I stared down and watched myself put one foot in front of the other until I reached the door. I turned the knob and pulled it open as I lifted my head. My lips parted, and my brain told me to speak, but no words came out.

  I’d thought I’d known what to expect the first time I saw Sawyer standing on my front porch. I’d fantasized about this moment since I bought this house. But my imagination hadn’t prepared me for the reality.

  He was tall, standing at six foot six, but it wasn’t just his height that was so impressive. It was his mass. He filled my entire doorway. I couldn’t even see the walkway that led up to my porch.

  My mind blanked as my brain tried to process the sexiness that was in front of me. He wore a blue Briggs Construction T-shirt, jeans, a tool belt, and tan work boots. His strong jaw, which was normally clean shaven now had a sprinkling of stubble on it, making me think he hadn’t shaved this morning. The peppering of dark hairs caused his lips to stand out even more than they normally did. I’d always had a thing for his mouth.

  I loved kissing. I could spend hours making out with someone that was a good kisser. I’d stayed with my first boyfriend for months longer than I should have just because he could kiss me and make me forget my name. We broke up six years ago, and he was still the best kiss I’d ever had. But, I had a feeling Sawyer would take his title if I were ever lucky enough to liplock with him. I thought I was going to find out when we were dancing, but my stomach had killed the mood and embarrassed the heck out of me. It was a multi-tasker.

  The sound of Sawyer clearing his throat caused me to blink. I realized that I’d left him standing on my porch while I drooled over him. This was perhaps more embarrassing than my stomach had been.

  “Sorry, I spaced there for a minute.” I shook my head as I opened the door wider and stepped back to give him room. “Come on in.”

  He did, and just like I hadn’t been ready to see him at my door, I hadn’t been prepared to see him standing in my foyer. The grown woman in me that had plans to seduce the only man that had ever made her heart flutter was trying to play it cool. But the little girl whose life had been saved twice was staring at her hero and was having a total meltdown.

  “Is it this way?” he asked as he looked down the hall.

  “Oh right, yes.” I nodded as I led him down the short hallway and through the swinging door and had a quick “come to Jesus” moment with myself.

  Stop it.

  Get yourself together.

  You have a plan, stick to it.

  Stop getting distracted by his hotness.

  When we were both in the kitchen, I spun around in a slow circle. “Well, this is it. I don’t think it’s been upgraded since the eighties. I’ve given us a head start on the project and replaced the floors. So, my thinking was, we could demo and hopefully get the uppers installed today and then lowers, counters, and backsplash tomorrow.”

  Since buying this house a year ago, this kitchen had been driving me crazy. I’d redone both bathrooms and put down hardwood floors in the front room and bedroom. But renovating a kitchen was a two-person job. I could’ve asked my dad to help me, but I’d saved it because I’d wanted to do this project with Sawyer and now I was.

  He was here. With his tool belt. In my kitchen. Surreal didn’t even begin to describe how this felt.

  “Did those come assembled?” He asked looking past me at the cabinets that were lined up on the screened in porch that sat off of the kitchen and dining area.

  “No.” I’d spent last weekend putting them together.

  He walked past me and pulled open the glass slider, stepping out to inspect them. I watched him squat down and slide his hands along the edges as if he was a human level. I didn’t mind. Sawyer was a perfectionist, that was common knowledge. I waited as he made his way around the other cabinets, looking at each one from several different angles.

  My next project after the kitchen was tearing down the screened in and building a pergola complete with a fan and an outdoor dining table. I’d always been a fan of indoor/outdoor living, and now that I had my own house, I wanted to incorporate that as much as possible. I could see the finished product clearly in my mind and now that Sawyer was in the space, I saw him sitting across the table from me as we enjoyed a sunset dinner.

  “Good job.” His encouragement pulled me back into the here and now.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the sledgehammer that I’d left resting beside my dining room table and lifted it up, so it rested on my shoulder.

  I had a plan, and I needed to stick to it. It wasn’t just the kitchen that I needed to tear down and rebuild, it was Sawyer, too. I needed to take an emotional sledgehammer to his walls and replace them with intimacy. I had three sets of twelve questions that I had to get through in the next thirty-six hours and even though, technically, he had to answer my questions, it was still going to be like pulling teeth. I had no time to waste.

  “You ready to break some stuff?” I asked cheerily.


  The corners of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t a full blown smile, but I would take it. With a single nod he stepped back up into the kitchen, and we went to work.

  We started with the uppers. They came down easily mainly due to Sawyer’s strength and expert removal technique. He was more of a show not tell kinda teacher. But he had pointed out that whacking away with my eyes closed and hoping for the best was not really the safest or most effective way to demo. After a brief demonstration of how to use my own body weight when swinging the sledgehammer, my form and efficacy was greatly improved. Next came the Formica countertops and then the lowers. After collecting a decent sized pile of debris in the center of the kitchen, we made trips back and forth to the dumpster that I’d rented. I’d even managed to accidently brush up against him as we’d passed in the hallway.

  Most of the work was done in silence, the only noise coming from the music that I was playing through a speaker that was connected to my iPhone. Our verbal interactions were as I had expected them to be, short and to the point. His were limited to warnings of what I was doing wrong or guidance of how to do things the right way and mine were limited to me saying okay.

  When I’d suggested the apprenticeship to Mrs. Higgins, my motivation was simple, force Sawyer to answer questions. I hadn’t even considered that I’d be taking Construction 101 from a master level craftsman. It turned out to be an unexpected bonus.

  Another thing that surprised me was how easily we fell into a natural rhythm like we’d been working together for years instead of hours without any spoken communication. We even started anticipating each other’s next move, just like on the dance floor, we were perfectly in sync.

  Once the debris was cleared we began chipping away on the old tile backsplash that had pictures of roosters and fruit baskets on it. I figured that now was as good a time as any to ask my first question.

  I opened my mouth, but just like at the door no sound came out. I noticed that the pry bar and hammer I was holding were both shaking. I was nervous, and my mind started telling me all the reasons that I should just keep my mouth shut and not rock the boat. Things were going fine, why do something that could embarrass me?