She sighed and leaned against him, wondering how she’d gone a whole week without this, conveniently refusing to think about how much harder that was going to be after this weekend was over. She felt young and silly—it had been a week, for goodness’ sake, not a year—but maybe that’s what it felt like when you were falling head over heels. And falling felt pretty damn good as it turned out. When it wasn’t terrifying, anyway.
He was spending that night with her, all of Saturday and Saturday night, then they were picking up the lambs in Maryland Sunday morning, and heading on down to Blue Hollow Falls that afternoon. She’d stay with him at the cabin that night, and drive straight to D.C. very early Monday morning, putting in an hour or two at the end of the day to make up the difference if she was late due to city traffic, which was pretty much guaranteed.
It had initially been planned that he would just pick the lambs up and head home Sunday afternoon. But when she’d commented that she’d miss seeing Bailey’s face when the two new arrivals were introduced, he’d offered that alternative idea. Though she might be kicking herself come the crack of dawn on Monday, right now it meant another night together, so she was all for it. The truth was, in addition to seeing Bailey, she wanted to be back in the Hollow, too. She was already trying to figure out how she could fit in a quick little trek out to the greenhouse. She’d promised Stevie she’d take some photos. And she wanted to see it again, take more time, just . . . more.
But that was Sunday. Right now they had a whole night ahead of them, followed by a whole day. Just the two of them. It felt like a glorious vacation to her, filled with endless possibilities. “There might be a flaw in your water conservation theory,” she said, starting to unbutton the front of his shirt.
“Oh?” he said, looking down at what she was doing, and making not a single effort to stop her. “Why is that?”
She gazed up into his blue eyes, thinking they looked even more brilliant against the blue of his shirt, his dark hair, and the tan he’d likely have all winter from spending so much of the summer and fall out of doors. “You’re assuming we’d only be in the shower the normal length of time.”
“Ah,” he said. “You may have a point.”
She’d unbuttoned his shirt halfway down his chest, revealing a snowy white, perfectly clean T-shirt. She’d been about to tease him about that, but he was nudging her away just far enough so he could reach down and grab the hem of the button up and the tee and pull them both over his head.
“Well, hello there,” she said. She wanted to rub her hands all over that magnificent chest. Then take a bite out of it. That’s how good he looked.
“You make your living doing research,” he said, “so I thought you’d probably want to test your theory out.” He lifted his arms. “I’m simply a willing test study subject.”
She stepped back into his arms, almost closing her eyes in bliss as she breathed in the scent of him again. “I was thinking . . .”
“Go on,” he said, rubbing his hands up along her spine, tucking her more snugly against him.
“Well, it wouldn’t really be a proper conservation test if we don’t actually need a shower.”
His eyebrows lifted in consideration. “See, that’s why you’re the scientist.”
“Botanist.”
“Tomato, potahto.”
She giggled. “So, do you have any ideas on how we could get a little perspiration going? Maybe you could help me in the garden with some repotting,” she said, all chaste and innocent. “Or we could water the—”
“So, your bedroom would be . . . ?”
“Top of the stairs, on the left,” she answered immediately.
A second later she was head down over the back of his shoulder, with one of his strong arms clamped over the back of her thighs, while her hands grappled at his waist for a handhold.
“I’d have carried you the traditional way, but it’s a narrow staircase.”
Her squeal of surprise had changed to a squeal of something else entirely when his hands slid up her bare calves, under the tea-length skirt she’d been wearing. Old habits die hard. She thought her mother would be thrilled to know her daughter tended to favor skirts over trousers, even when given a choice.
Choices.
She’d been exploring a few of those over the past week, but hadn’t told him about any of it yet. It was too soon. And a part of her wanted to see what it would be like when they were together again. See if it was as wonderful as she’d remembered, or if she’d painted over their time together with a fantasy brush.
At the moment, staring at his very fine backside while he drew his fingertips farther and farther up the inside of her thigh, she was thinking maybe she’d downplayed just how wonderful it had been. Of course, that might be because all the blood rushing to her head was making her dizzy.
She whooped out a laugh when he slid her over his shoulder and deposited her on her bed with a bounce. She was already reaching for him as he followed her down.
* * *
In the decadently wanton hours that had followed . . . and extended through Saturday, and last night . . . before starting up again as the sun had come up that morning, Sunny learned a little more about Sawyer, and a lot more about herself.
She learned he was picky about his toothpaste, but thought body soap doubled perfectly well as shampoo. She learned he eschewed chocolate and sweets, not because they weren’t good for him, but because he had absolutely zero self-control around them. As evidenced by the now-empty container of leftover chocolate frosting that had been sitting in her fridge since she’d made cupcakes for Stevie’s birthday. Although, to be fair, it had served an additional use as a foreplay condiment. She’d never be able to look at cupcake toppings again without blushing.
She’d learned that he didn’t make his bed—something she already knew from that night at the cabin—but that he never left clothes lying on the floor. Well, he might have initially left them there, mostly because they’d been yanked off in the heat of—so much heat—but he routinely picked them up, his and hers, whenever he next left the bed.
She learned he would help with anything she asked him to do in the kitchen, but should never be left to his own devices on dinner prep. He had very different ideas from her as to the kinds of things that belonged together in the same pan. If it was a leftover, if was fair game. Conversely, he also made the fluffiest, tastiest scrambled eggs she’d ever eaten. Who knew using a food processor to whip eggs would create something so delicious? And he liked his toast one shade this side of burnt, which was exactly how she liked hers. Raspberry jam for her. Apple butter for him. He’d brought her a homemade jar of the sweet, brown spread, a gift from Addie, then gone through half of it himself. He’d promised her her own jar on his next trip.
About herself she’d learned that she liked having someone around who could open the raspberry jam jar without running it under scalding hot water for ten minutes, then threatening to smash it with a hammer. She’d learned that showers for two were, indeed, significantly more entertaining than showering alone, but she’d been right in assuming her water bill would not be getting any lower. And she was perfectly fine with that.
She’d learned that while the utter peace and quiet she’d come to treasure over the past nine or so months was still a balm to her soul, hearing him use his lovely baritone to sing eighties pop tunes was the perfect soundtrack when the silence started to feel oppressive rather than restorative. That he easily and quite wittily made up lyrics for the words he didn’t know, many of them delightfully bawdy, added tremendously to her enjoyment.
Most shocking of all, she also learned that after less than forty-eight hours of having him under her roof, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be as comfortable banging around in the place by herself again. Her mother had been larger than life and such a huge presence, in ways both good and bad, for so long, Sunny had honestly been concerned about her ability to live with anyone else, ever again. The soundtrack that had been life with her mot
her haunted the house, echoing from every room, every corner. She didn’t think any number of years would ever completely silence that echo.
She smiled now, thinking that after only two days with Sawyer, the kitchen would forever echo a terrible rendition of the Back Street Boys’ “I Want It That Way.” In the shower, it would be Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing,” which would also forever make her blush. And in the backyard, her mother’s sanctuary, her own sanctuary, it would be Frank Sinatra’s “It Had to Be You,” which he’d sung to her as they’d danced under the fairy lights. For that gift alone, she could have loved him forever.
But living with someone was about far more than singing down the ghosts of her past. She didn’t think she ever wanted to give up the sublime and treasured gift of being able to set her own schedule to suit her own needs, doing what she wanted, when she wanted, whether it be at six o’clock in the evening, or three o’clock in the morning. She didn’t have to set her clock to anyone’s medication schedule, or sleep with one eye open in case a medical machine buzzer went off.
She was at the kitchen counter, staring out the window into the backyard, rinsing off the last of their breakfast dishes so they could get on the road to Maryland, when he came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He had a habit of doing that, one she hoped he’d never break. He leaned down and nudged her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck, in that spot he already knew she loved most. It made her shiver in delight.
“The bags are packed and in the back of the Cooper.” He kissed her there again and she could feel him grin against her now-heated skin. “I even made the bed.”
“Racking up those brownie points,” she teased, smiling. “I approve.”
“I was hoping you could show me the brownie point redemption catalog later so I could pick out my prize.”
She laughed and leaned in to the warmth of him. Her eyes drifted closed and she thought, Then again, maybe even the biggest sacrifices were worth it.
Chapter Nineteen
“Did you tell her?” Bailey asked. She’d come out of Addie’s cabin and was heading across the yard before they’d even parked his truck.
Sawyer climbed out, gave her a little shake of his head, and saw her breathe a little sigh of relief.
“Tell me what?” Sunny asked, as she hopped down from the passenger side.
“Nice,” Bailey said, pointing down at her hiking boots.
Sunny smiled and pointed one toe, turning the ankle-high leather boot one way, then the other. “Thanks. I figure I should be ready for anything up here at this point.”
“They won’t last one winter up here,” she said. “You need something waterproof.”
Sunny’s smile drooped. “Huh. Well, maybe when you come visit me, we can go boot shopping.”
Sawyer watched the two and thought what a difference six weeks had made, for both Bailey and Sunny. Bailey was still Bailey, and he noted she remained quiet and watchful when she was around most folks, but with him, Addie, Seth, and now Sunny, she’d clearly opted to start sharing her observations rather than keep them all inside her head.
“Hey, Bailey,” Sawyer said, motioning her over to the back of the truck. They’d gone to the mill first and left Sunny’s car there. Since they had to go right by it on the way to his cabin, and because they’d already spent most of the day in separate cars, they’d opted to take the trip up to Addie’s in his truck. He lowered the tailgate and opened the door to the cap he’d put on the back after the last snow. “Can you help me with this?”
She came right over. “With what?” Her face lit up and he liked that she was also starting to be as open about revealing her emotions as she was about her thoughts. It made her seem more like a kid, even if she was still ten going on thirty. “Did you get the mesh wire to put around the rest of the pasture fencing?”
He nodded. “I did. And Seth is going to bring over more board fencing he had left over, too, so we can make the space even bigger. He motioned into the bed of the truck.
Bailey peeked inside, then saw the two crates. Her mouth dropped open and her eyebrows climbed halfway up her tanned little foreheard.
“Addie thought that since sheep are flock animals, it would be better for—what did you name her again?”
Bailey was still staring, slack-jawed, into the back of the truck. “Peep.” She finally tore her gaze away and looked at Sawyer. “Sunny said she was a triplet. Are these the other two?”
“One is her sister, but the other female isn’t related. Distant cousin, maybe.” The third lamb had been a male, and Sawyer didn’t want to get into a discussion on breeding or the differences in male/female sheep relationships. Although, on second thought, given all the farms she’d lived on, he suspected Bailey could probably tell him a thing or three about that. She was at least one live goat birth ahead of him, at any rate.
“Addie knows?” she asked, and he could see she was banking her hope against any possibility that this might not actually be happening.
“It was her idea,” Sunny said, walking over. “I guess I should have thought of it when I got Peep.” She grinned at Bailey. “I like the name.”
Bailey nodded, but looked pleased that Sunny liked her idea. “I think I’ll call that one Red,” she said, pointing to the other triplet. “And since that one’s a girl, too, it can’t be Wolfie. Or Thor. Since she’s older . . .” She looked at Sawyer and a mischievous light twinkled in her eyes. “How about Grandma?”
“I like it,” Sawyer said, though he planned on letting Bailey tell Addie about her naming strategy.
“Addie said she’s already got plans for the wool when it comes time to shear them,” Sunny told her. “Apparently, they turn more gray and red when they get older.” She laughed. “Which actually makes their names that much more perfect.” She put her hand up to high-five Bailey, but instead she opted to give Sunny a quick hug.
“Thank you,” she told Sunny. Then she turned to Sawyer, and hugged him full out. “Thanks, Sawyer. Thanks for going to get them.” She looked up at him, put her hand up next to her mouth, and whispered, “And thanks for getting her here.” She pointed surreptitiously to Sunny.
Sawyer could see Sunny’s ears prick up at that, but he smiled over Bailey’s head and shrugged, as if to say, “crazy kids.” But he could tell Sunny knew something was up.
“My pleasure, kiddo,” he said, and gave her braid a tug. “Go ahead and hop up in there and help move the crates to the gate.”
* * *
The next two hours were spent unloading, then getting the critters down the hill and to the fenced-in former-garden-turned-paddock area. Fortunately, the sun had been shining and temperatures had been up in the fifties all week, so the better part of the snow had melted. It made for a muddy, mucky mess, but it was far easier to traverse the downhill path that way than in the slippery, icy snow.
Peep began bleating the moment she laid eyes on the other two lambs. Sawyer didn’t know if sheep siblings could recognize one another, and there was a fair amount of head butting and general trouncing of each other going on, but nobody was getting hurt, so he thought things would work out okay. Seth showed up in the middle of it all, and he and Sawyer spent another hour shoring up the fence so it would be sturdy enough for when the sheep got bigger, and adding the taller mesh around the rest of the wood fencing so they could have a larger grazing area.
Bailey took Sunny over to the old stone crofter’s hut that had been built right into the side of the mountain, just at the edge of the small pasture. Addie had used the place for storage and a potting shed back when she’d had her vegetable garden there. Sawyer was working on the fencing just outside the open doorway, and he shamelessly listened in, curious whether Bailey would spill the beans, but not otherwise intruding on their time alone.
Bailey showed Sunny how Will and Hanford—he of oak barrel ice cream churn fame—had spent time earlier in the week gutting out the interior of the croft and patching up some of the stonework to turn it i
nto a makeshift stable.
“This is amazing,” Sunny said, looking around. “Perfect, really. Will they all be okay in here together?”
Bailey nodded. “The goats did fine that way, except when they were pregnant or just had babies. I’ve been reading about these kinds of sheep. They should be fine.” She was quiet for a few moments while Sunny scoped out the place more closely, then asked, “Are you staying?”
Sunny nodded. “Tonight? Yep. I’m going to have to leave really early though, to get in to the city before it’s too awfully late, so I don’t think I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Bailey said, sounding a little deflated.
“But you’re coming to see me in, what, five days? Addie and I worked it out to meet halfway on Friday after I get done working.”
“She told me,” Bailey said, politely enough, but there was no real enthusiasm either.
Sunny must have heard it, too, because she asked, “Do you still want to come?” sounding sincerely surprised by the apparent shift. There was another pause, and then she said, “Oh, you’re worried about the lambs, aren’t you?” She laughed. “I wish I could say you can just bring them with you, but I really don’t have anywhere for them to stay. I think they’d do a pretty good number on my garden.”
“Maybe you could bring me back on Sunday, and stay over to Monday. It’s a holiday, so you won’t have to get up so early. I could ask Sawyer if it’s okay for you to stay with him.”
Sawyer might have choked a little on that last part and hoped he didn’t give himself away, as he was now about a hair’s breadth from the open side window, no longer even trying to look like he wasn’t listening in.
“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Bailey went on.
“Well, I—”
“He likes you,” Bailey blurted out. “A lot.”
He heard Sunny’s soft laugh; then she said, “Well, that’s a good thing. I like him a lot, too. But, unfortunately, I’ve got some work to do at the conservatory that weekend for the presentation later the following week. I was sort of hoping you’d come and help me with it.”
Blue Hollow Falls Page 28