Worth The Effort (The Worth Series Book 4: A Copper Country Romance)

by Mara Jacobs

  The slivers of irritability were digging in now, as if little shards of glass were right on the surface of her skin.

  “That’s right. Nothing to worry about. I’m sleeping a little more than normal, and I put some activities on hold, but it hasn’t affected my work—”

  He whirled around at that. “Your work? You think I give a flying fuck about you taking a sick day or two? Or ten or twenty?” He grasped her upper arms in his hands and gently tugged her closer to him. “I don’t give a shit about work. I care about you.”

  She placed her hands on his bare chest. The same chest she’d used for balance late last night as she rode him. This time she soothed him with her hands.

  “I know you do. Sawyer, this isn’t Molly all over again.” She felt his chest stiffen beneath her hands, but she knew that was where his mind was going. “This is not clinical depression. I mean, technically it’s a diagnostic subtype of depression, or what they call a sub-threshold. But there are absolutely no suicidal thoughts. I’m just really tired and bitchy all the time. It’s mild and it’s seasonal. It may never even appear again, but Alison says now that we know about it, we can do the light therapy next October when the time change starts.”

  “So, Alison knows.”

  She nodded. “That’s when I started seeing her. It hasn’t even gotten bad enough that we’ve felt I needed to try anti-depressants.”

  “So, what? Just seeing Alison and the light box?”

  She nodded. “Yes, those things seem to be making a big difference.”

  “Who else knows? Does Andy know? Should we have something in place at the office for you? A light box somewhere?”

  Always the fixer, Sawyer. “Not necessary. I do it first thing in the morning for a half-hour and that’s it. And no, Andy doesn’t know and doesn’t need to. Charlie knows. And my mother. Alison, of course, and now you.”

  “Charlie knows? You’ve told Charlie and not me?” There was just a tiny touch of petulance in his voice that wavered between making her happy and pissing her off.

  “Charlie has been my best friend for a lot of years. I’ve known you two weeks,” she said in as much of a matter-of-fact voice as she could muster. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Now I’m running late.” She moved her hands up his chest and placed them against his face. She could see the confusion, pain, and a little fear in his beautiful green eyes. After gently kissing his lips, she whispered, “Besides, being in a good mood does almost as much for SAD as therapy and the light box. And Sawyer?” She kissed him again. “You put me in a very good mood.”

  He trusted that Deni had told him the truth about the severity—or non-severity—of her disorder. He really did.

  Still, as he sat at her kitchen table after she’d left for work, he eyed the light box warily.

  The day he’d found out about Molly’s depression—to have it diagnosed and with an actual name—came flooding back to him. He’d been unable to help her, had felt so useless. It was something he’d never felt with her.

  Had never felt useless, period. At least not since his father had left, making Sawyer the man of the house.

  He turned the light on, moving to the chair Deni must sit in each morning. He drank his coffee as the light blazed at him. As if it shone a bright light onto his biggest failure—his inability to save his wife. He leaned over and shut it off.

  He knew everything Deni said was true, that it was different from Molly’s case. And yet, that same sinking feeling he had when Molly was in a spiral crept over him.

  He rose from his chair and took his mug to the sink, where he washed it out. Lucy rose from where she’d been in a corner of the kitchen and slowly walked over to him.

  Last night when he’d let Lucy out, he’d brought in some dog food and the dog dish for her that he always kept in his truck. He’d fed her there, just putting the bowl in the foyer and not even going into the kitchen. This morning while Deni showered, he’d fed his dog again, but this time he got a bowl from Deni’s kitchen and filled it with water. That was when he’d seen the light box.

  “Come on, girl,” he said to Lucy after he’d unplugged and washed out the coffee pot. “Let’s go home and get some fresh clothes. Then we’ll go back to the office. You liked it there, didn’t you? Didn’t you, girl.” Lucy barked her approval of his plan.

  He wasn’t sure what all he’d do at the office on day two, but he knew he’d spend a fair amount of time Googling seasonal affective disorder.

  By the end of the workday, he was both more reassured and more freaked out about Deni and SAD.

  He hadn’t spent the entire day surfing the net. Andy had given him a file of projects that he’d heard wind of across the U.P. and in Wisconsin but hadn’t pursued.

  “I haven’t had a chance to look at them to see if they’re anything viable, or even if we’d want to bid on anything. I’m sure some of them are well past deadline.”

  “I’m not a numbers guy,” he told Andy. “I can’t tell you whether we should bid on these or not.”

  “Just see if you find any of them interesting. If you’d want to take on any of them yourself. Then we’ll worry about if we could competitively bid it or not.”

  He figured Andy had probably handed him the equivalent of a junk drawer—full of odds and ends that nobody cared about or had time to sort.

  He spent the rest of the day weeding through the files, putting the dead ones in a different pile and going online to check on a few. Before he knew it, Deni was standing in his doorway.

  “Um…I’m heading home now. I just wanted to say good night.”

  Holy wah, was it five already? He looked at the clock on his laptop. Nearly six. Yes, most of the lights in the office behind Deni were out.

  He got up from his chair quickly. “I had no idea it was so late. Were you working on something in particular?”

  She shrugged. “No, not really.”

  He reached for his coat. Lucy rose from the doggie bed he’d brought down with him from the house and stretched. “What do you feel like? Pizza? We never did get to eat it last night. Or how about Chinese?” he asked as he neared the doorway.

  He saw her body relax, and he realized she wasn’t sure…what? Sure about him? About them? After telling him about her SAD, did she think he’d dump her? That he couldn’t handle it?

  He slung his arm around her. “I know, I know. No PDA at the office. But everyone’s gone.”

  She didn’t balk at his arm around her; instead she slid hers around his waist and walked with him until they reached her cubicle where she disengaged herself to pull on her coat.

  “Chinese sounds good,” she said, flashing him that dimple.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.

  ~ Lao Tse

  He spent the night at her place. They also had dinner Wednesday night after work, and then made love on the foyer floor, not making to the bedroom, or even the stairs.

  When she got up and started for the bedroom, he told her he needed to spend the night in Laurium.

  “I told Andy as I was leaving that I’m going to stay at home tomorrow and Friday. With the weekend, I can get the floor laid in the house.”

  “Three days in the office and you’re already chomping at the bit to get out of there?” she asked. She’d thought he was enjoying being back, but maybe he’d spent too much time alone to truly be happy in office life again.

  As if knowing what she was thinking, he took her in his arms right there in the foyer with his pants undone and her skirt wrinkled, panties and tights still lying on the floor.

  “Relax. I want to be back at work. In fact, I think I may have found my next project. And if that’s the case, I want to get this house in Laurium finished, pronto. No taking my time on this one. It’s going to be on the market within a month.”

  She made sure her voice was perfectly calm when she said, “And then what?”

  He took a step back, sliding his hands down
her arms and clasping her hands in his. “Well, we have a couple of options. I really like this place, and you’ve put a lot of work into it.”

  “I have.”

  “But it’s a rental, you said, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Once the house in Laurium is done, we can figure out what makes sense.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  He shrugged. “I could keep the house in Laurium, not even put it on the market, and you move in there. Or, I can sell it and move in here, and we can talk to the owner about selling. Or, we can find something totally different, maybe another fixer-upper and do it together, just like we’d want it.”

  She took a deep breath, stunned.

  “What? Too fast? Does the idea of living together freak you out?”

  The idea of living with a man she’d only known a few weeks should freak her out. But it was Sawyer, and she shook her head. “No. Not really. It doesn’t feel fast to you?”

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s been ten years since I’ve felt like this about anybody.” He kissed her lips. “I’d say it’s moving too slow.”

  He left soon after, with a determination to have most of the flooring laid by the time she came up to see the house on Friday night after work.

  So she was surprised to see him walk into the office at three on Thursday afternoon. Apparently so was Andy, who came out of his office upon seeing Sawyer.

  “I thought you were taking today and tomorrow off.”

  “So did I. You mean he didn’t call you, too?” Sawyer asked Andy as he walked down the row of cubes. He peeked in Deni’s as he passed, but she was at one of the collaboration tables at the end of the room, near Andy.

  “Hey,” he said softly to her.

  “Hey,” she said back, and then put her head down to try to hide the flush that was no doubt turning her face red.

  “Who didn’t call me?” Andy asked him, ignoring the look that had passed between her and Sawyer.

  “Pete Ryan. He called me an hour ago and said he needed to see us right away. Told me to meet him here at three.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound good. He didn’t say anything else?”

  “No. I tried to get more from him, but he said he was leaving for Detroit at four and needed to take a meeting first.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “Why shit?” Deni asked. Others were starting to gather around them now. At hearing Petey’s name, Charlie and Mac had come over and were giving her a questioning look, which she returned with a shrug.

  “If he’s heading out of town, he’s probably going to tell us they’re not going to do the project. Hell, maybe he’s moving back to Detroit after all.”

  Deni had seen the looks that had passed between Alison and Petey—he wasn’t going too far away from her.

  “Well, we’ll know soon enough,” Mac said from near the window. “He just pulled up.”

  When the hulking figure entered the office area and then broke into a grin and lifted high a bottle of champagne in each of his hands, the whole group broke into laughter and applause.

  His smile stayed on as he walked the length of the building toward them.

  “Let’s build this fucker.”

  An hour later, with the initial agreement signed and the champagne gone, Petey Ryan left the building with as much pomp as he’d entered.

  “We’re back late on Sunday. I’ll call you guys Monday morning to start rolling.”

  Lots of handshakes all around, and then he was gone.

  They’d been awarded a lot of jobs at Summers and Beck, most much larger than an indoor driving range, but Deni didn’t remember having such elation before.

  “Why don’t we all call it a day,” Andy said. “Nobody’s going to get any more work done, anyway.” He clapped his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder and said, “Let me buy you a drink, partner. Just like we used to when we got a job.”

  She saw the hesitation on Sawyer’s face. But then his expression relaxed. “Yeah, that’d be good. I’d like that.”

  “Let me get my coat,” Andy said, returning to his office, leaving Deni and Sawyer alone in the conference room where they’d moved the celebration.

  “Hey, this should only take a couple of hours. How about if I swing by after we’re done and we have our own celebration?”

  “What about the floors?”

  He waved a hand in the air and then bent over to where she was sitting. “Screw the floor, it’ll be there tomorrow. I can’t see you and then not…see you, you know?”

  Oh yes, she definitely knew.

  “I’d like that,” she said. He smiled and started to lean in, but she gave him a warning look.

  He sighed, but stood back up. “Later,” he whispered, his eyes dropping to her mouth.

  “Yes,” she softly said, but he was already out the door.

  She decided to pick up some champagne for when he came over, so she swung by Pat’s. She put two bottles in her cart and slowly made her way down the aisle, lost in thought.

  And then she realized she wasn’t lost in thought but mired in the fog. It had closed in around her, and her brain was fuzzy and unfocused. Her arms could barely lift to the cart handle, and she started to move to the front of the store. She looked around her and saw she was in the section with the ready-made mashed potatoes. Oh, they looked so good to her. She threw a package into the cart. Then she took three more and placed them in, too. She turned and went back to the deli area to get a tub of the homemade mac and cheese. At the checkout area, she looked away as the woman at the register rang up her odd collection.

  Just get home, just get home.

  It was an effort to lift her arms to the steering wheel, and when she made it home, she almost left her two bags of groceries in the car, as the thought of carrying them down the steps suddenly seemed so daunting.

  But the promise of warm mashed potatoes with butter generously applied made her summon up her strength, and she made it from the garage, down the stairs, into the house and to the kitchen. She put one of the packages of potatoes in the microwave and the rest of the items in the refrigerator. The champagne seemed foreign and unnecessary to her puzzled mind. And then she remembered Sawyer would be there soon.

  She was still in her coat and boots. She was dripping melted snow all over her kitchen floor, but that seemed inconsequential. Pulling her phone out of her bag, she put it on speaker and dialed Sawyer as moved to the microwave. She took the potatoes out, peeled back the plastic, and stirred them up. Then she put them back for another two minutes—which seemed like a lifetime to her.

  “Hey.” Sawyer’s voice came through the air to her. “I’m sorry. We’re just finishing up and then I’ll be—”

  “No,” she said, perhaps a little shrilly. She couldn’t really seem to hear her voice very well. “That’s why I called. I’m beat. Why don’t you just stay with Andy and grab some dinner with him? I’ll see you tomorrow night like we planned.”

  “Really, we’re settling the check right now.”

  “It’s okay, I’m not mad, really. I just got tired all of a sudden. I think the late nights last week…the weekend…and then the adrenaline of this afternoon just caught up with me. I’m going to make an early night of it and catch up on some sleep.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Have fun with Andy. Get going on those floors tomorrow, and I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’ll call you when I’m done with work and see what I can bring us for dinner.”

  “Okay. Deni, are you okay? I mean—”

  “Everything’s fine, Sawyer. Enjoy the night, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Good night,” she said quickly, and disconnected just as the bell on the microwave sounded.

  Her alarm pulled her out of deep sleep the next morning. Or, maybe it hadn’t, because when she sat up and really looked at her alarm, she realized she must have been hitting the snooze button for the last hour without real
ly waking up.

  Already ten minutes late for work, she made her way to the bathroom, staring down the crusty bowl of mashed potato dregs as she passed her bedside table.

  She’d lost her tights somewhere along the line last night, but otherwise she was still wearing what she’d worn to work yesterday.

  After using the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she turned on the shower and started peeling off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. She leaned against the bathroom counter waiting for the shower to heat up, still wearing her bra and panties.

  And suddenly, it all just seemed like too much. Taking off her undergarments, getting wet, drying herself, and then having to—what? Put clothes back on again?

  No, she couldn’t do it. Not today.

  She turned the shower off and left the bathroom, her clothes still on the floor. Back in her bedroom, she found her comfiest sweats and pulled them on along with an old Tech sweatshirt. Then she wrapped her robe around herself and crawled back to bed.

  Her cell was on the nightstand—apparently she’d brought it up with her last night out of habit—and she called the office.

  “Sue,” she said when the older woman answered. “It’s Deni. I’m taking a sick day today.”

  “Too much celebrating last night? That’s good, honey, you deserved it. Great job on the driving range.”

  “Thanks. And I wish I were just hung over. But I’ve got some kind of bug or something. Didn’t even get to celebrate last night.”

  “Oh, you poor thing,” Sue said sympathetically, and Deni almost started to cry. “Well, you take care of yourself. Do you need anything taken care of here?”

  “No. Nothing that can’t wait until Monday.”

  “Okay. Can somebody bring something over to you? Medicine or soup or anything? I’m sure Charlie would be happy—”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ve got stuff here. I’m good.” She thought of the packages of potatoes and mac and cheese. And, more importantly, whether she’d be willing to leave her bed to go downstairs and heat them up.