by Emily Childs
“I’ve known Mr. Lanford a long time, and I think his success is directly related to the very thing y’all are laughing about. If you want a man who sees past boundaries, who doesn’t think in a box, then it’s Mr. Lanford.
“The way his mind travels, well, that’s how inspiration comes. Sometimes the things others view as weaknesses, are really our greatest strengths. It’s why our clinic is entirely comfortable partnering with Mr. Lanford on his trainings and incorporating HealthyRx as a regularly used system. His ability to overcome challenges—I don’t know—I’ve always thought that made him relatable to others. It’s why people trust him. It’s why he’s successful.”
My mouth drops like an idiot. I’m going to cross the table and kiss that woman. No other way to say it. She’s a goddess, a queen, a friend all rolled into one, and the only way I can show her what she’s done is by showing her, if you know what I mean.
Two things have happened: Dot cut Liam at the knees without dropping her smile, and she confirmed that when we return, we’re officially business allies. Mission accomplished, but the truth is, I hardly care about all that.
She offers me a quick smile as Mrs. Greer chimes in about their daughter’s struggle with anxiety. Mr. Greer agrees, then that leads to Veronica talking about being a dyslexic bookkeeper and how our company is sensitive to accommodations because one of the owners needs accommodations, too.
Like she cast a spell, Dot turned everything on its head. Somehow the fact that I can hardly contain nervous energy or keep my thoughts in a single lane is a glowing attribute instead of something annoying.
While everyone names off their own quirks—Thompson laughs too loudly, Mrs. Willow is afraid of elevators, Mr. Greer can’t stand the texture of velvet—I steal a look at Dot. I mouth thank you. She nods gently, then returns to the conversation until she has them all eating out of her hand.
Chapter 11
Dot
Something shifted tonight.
After my lecture—chastisement—for teasing Sawyer, then the subsequent confessions of everyone’s weirdness, somehow, I agreed to a morning manicure with the wives and Veronica while Lanford & Hewitt signs contracts with Willow Enterprises and Greer Medical. In the afternoon, I get to sit in with them for Thompson investing in the Honeyville nonprofit clinic.
But all the good business news isn’t what shifted.
There’s been a change with Sawyer Lanford and one, Miss Dorothy-Ann Gardener. Before I knew it, I was toss-my-head-back laughing with him like we used to. He even scooped off the nasty, slimy raspberry sauce from my piece of cheesecake (I’m not sure he even noticed), and I told the server Sawyer would have a strawberry daiquiri. The man loves them, but is always too embarrassed to order ‘girly’ drinks. Turns out Mr. Willow loves them too, and half the table ordered one after that.
Old habits die hard, but now all those little things we did out of instinct—because once upon a time our hearts beat as one—are flooding my head and I can’t quite catch a deep enough breath.
The elevator ride is semi-quiet. Occasionally, Liam blurts out something inappropriate. But I think he had a little too much to drink at dinner. Veronica seems less-than pleased. If I had to guess, I’d say the second he gets in the room, he’ll be out like a light.
Sawyer offers to take her place in their room in case Liam vomits or starts snoring. Liam laughs, but Veronica puts her foot down. “No, thank you,” she says. “He bought the biggest suite on the floor. Whether he zonks out is his problem. I intend to take advantage of my own personal king bed and a jetted bathtub.” She glares at Liam when he giggles stupidly again. “Alone time is looking better and better.”
She helps him stagger down to the room, leaving Sawyer and me trying to muffle our laughs.
“How come they got the suite?” I say in a pout.
“Because I thought Liam and I were going to have the romantic sleepover. I spare no expense when it comes to myself.”
I snort a laugh because it couldn’t be further from the truth. Sawyer rarely spends money on himself—at least he never used to—besides Xbox games, coding software, or the occasional vintage Star Wars action figure.
I’m still jealous he found an anniversary edition Lando Calrissian from 1987.
In the room, any laughter dies. My stomach clenches. Sawyer and I dance around, awkwardly trying not to touch each other in the doorway.
“Uh, want to take the shower first?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I hurry and gather my things from my nook, wishing I hadn’t gone for the flannel now. How is this supposed to go? We’ve spent our time together glaring and shooting snide comments at each other. Now we’re supposed to room it for the night.
My friends are no help, either. The lone response I received from my SOS text was from Olive: I’m speaking for everyone—have fun and we expect details.
They’re about as helpful as a rock.
I shower quickly, tie my hair in a messy top knot, brush my teeth, then practically leap into my bed as I watch through my doorway Sawyer shyly gather his things and disappear into the shower.
Alone in the dim light of the room, my head reels through memories, small talk we should make tonight. Sleep seems outlandish and impossible if I can’t get my head to quiet. I could close my door, give him a hint that I’ll hang out in my tiny casita nook without bother. Instead, I take out my laptop and try to rummage through some numbers on our billing from the clinic. It’s been two days since I’ve tried to find the problem. Maybe a fresh look will help see where our numbers go wrong.
By the time the bathroom door opens, I’ve deduced there must be a disconnect in a physician or nurse’s documentation. It’s the only explanation for the increase in payments for procedures we really don’t cover.
“You look like you ate something sour.”
I flick my eyes up at Sawyer’s voice. Mylanta, T-shirts, athletic shorts, damp, dark hair. He should’ve had the decency to shower tomorrow—after I’ve left the room. I have to fight every firing hormone to keep from licking my lips at the sight of his horribly handsome face.
“I, uh—” I clear my throat. “I’m trying to figure out some discrepancies in billing, is all.”
He flops back onto his bed and takes up the TV remote. “You know, I hear there are experts who can help with that?”
I grin and shake my head. “If I remember right, sounded like I hired said experts at dinner.”
The slightest dimple furrows in his right cheek as the corner of his mouth curls. “You really are good with it? Because I honestly feel we can help.”
I sigh and close my laptop, crossing my legs beneath me. “Come talk to the administrators, and we’ll see what we can all come up with, how about that for an answer?”
He leans his head against the headboard, smiling. “Sounds like a step in the right direction.”
I stuff my laptop back in its case, pull back the covers, and prepare to nestle into my blankets even though Sawyer is sprawled out, smelling like bottled masculinity, ten feet away.
“Hey, Dot,” Sawyer says a little cautiously. “Thanks for tonight. For what you said.”
I poke my head out of my door. “You know I mean it. You’re one of the most creative people I know, and I think you see things differently than others. Don’t let Liam do that to you, Sawyer.”
He scoffs. “You never cared much for Liam, did you?”
“I just think he tramples you sometimes.”
Sawyer hesitates, then says. “Well, I appreciate you saying that. Also, I, uh, I want to apologize for what happened the other night.”
I wave the notion away. “No, it’s fine. We got caught up in a moment, is all.”
“Still, I’m sorry for taking a tone with you, and . . . if I made you uncomfortable.”
Boy, please. If anything, the discomfort came when I broke away and lost the touch of those hands on my skin. “It’s fine. Really.”
With a cautious smile, he clicks on the TV. I take it as an end to our cordial tal
k. Funny enough, despite wanting a little more interaction, my body is calmer, head quieter. I turn to slip back to my bed until he whispers, “Hey, Dot.”
“Hmm.”
“What do you say?”
Sawyer uses the remote to point at the TV. When I look at the movie beginning, I laugh. “Sawyer Lanford, are you really asking me to stay up way too late watching The Empire Strikes Back?”
“I am, Miss Gardener.”
I wiggle my fingers a little maniacally, and grin. “Where is the popcorn, sir? I bet you a million dollars you fall asleep first.”
Sawyer smiles—his real, made-of-sugar smile—and settles on his bed like I’ve bestowed the greatest challenge one can give. “Woman—you’re on.”
***
The next morning Sawyer is gone before my alarm goes off. I laugh to myself because he fought tooth and nail to keep his eyes open last night, and now will be paying the price in his early meetings.
In the light of day, the dreaded overnighter takes on a new light. Sawyer and I can be civil, respectable. Maybe even friendly. I woke up with a grin and the knots in my stomach are gone, so that must count for something.
I hurry and dress in casual jeans and a nice blouse and head down to the lobby. Veronica is sipping a to-go coffee, a scowl on her face when I arrive.
“Hey, how’d you sleep?”
She rolls her eyes. “Remind me not be seduced by the hot boss again. Sawyer wasn’t lying—Liam passed out and snored. All. Night. Long. I see the man in an entirely new light right now.”
“Hey, that is a win, then,” I say with a grin. “No regrets now.”
She shrugs. “I haven’t done something totally out of character since I was sixteen. I sort of wanted to leave with at least one regret.”
The tone of her voice tells me she’s kidding, but in truth is a little disappointed. I take her coffee and link my arm with hers, so she stands. “Well, maybe we can dig up a few mistakes at the salon.”
I’d rather be working, or eating, but I’m not going to ditch the wives of lucrative investors. Plus, I enjoy a good manicure and I’m liking Veronica more and more. She’s that good mix of reckless with smarts.
The wives, as I’ve decided to coin them, are dull and remind me of my mother’s gossiping fillies at her country club. Going on about the stresses of their privileged lives. Look, I was raised with blessings, and the things they’re whining about aren’t stresses. Things like their gardeners misshaping the hedges, and feckless sons bringing home women from college who—gasp—have nose rings. All their blather makes me grateful Nic is there with me to talk about funny things, like work and dating faux pas.
“Maybe I should try Mr. Lanford at the next retreat,” she says lightly. “I know he’s single.”
“Is he?” I ask, playing aloof.
“Oh, yeah. The rumor is at cooperate that he was practically engaged, but it crashed and burned. I didn’t know him before, but I’m told he wasn’t the same. One of those life-altering breakups, you know.”
I hide my gurgled noise of surprise at the sudden U-turn in conversation behind a cough. “How, uh, how do people say he’s different?”
Nic checks the sheen of her index fingernail, gives a nod of approval, and the manicurist goes on. “A little more reserved, I guess. Harder to get a smile from. I don’t know all the details, but my officemate, Todd, he’s been with L & H since the beginning, he said the chick and her family made Sawyer back off.”
“Her family?” I say with a stupid gasp. Come on, Dot. Hold it together.
“I don’t know, I guess they interfered and told Sawyer to get lost. I doubt it’s true because he’s a catch. Who’d try to run him off? Todd told me, Sawyer was ready to propose, though. Even ready to leave L & H to be with this girl because Todd overheard Liam ranting about losing his partner before they could really get off the ground.” Veronica winks. “Maybe I should try to heal his broken heart.”
Skin from the tips of my fingers to my scalp is cold. I must look ridiculous because Veronica tilts her head and asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I blink myself back to the present. “Yeah, fine. I’ve never, uh, heard this story since I’ve known Mr. Lanford. The family side of it, I mean.”
She lifts a brow. “Do you know him that well to chat about his relationships?”
“Used to,” I whisper.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Nic’s mouth drops after a few seconds. “I should’ve realized by the . . .”
“What?”
“By the way you guys went off in the car.” She rips her hands away from the poor manicurist and faces me. “You’re her! You’re his ex, aren’t you?”
I pinch my lips together. I can’t really lie about it, can I? I guess my expression is enough to give her the answer she’s looking for because Veronica squeals with excitement.
“Girl! Tell me all about last night. Details! You guys have so much tension between you, I bet whatever happened—”
“Star Wars,” I blurt out.
“Excuse me?”
I chuckle. “We watched Star Wars. Nothing else.”
Veronica pouts her bottom lip. “You’re kidding me? Ugh, boring. Or—” She faces her manicurist again, wiggling her brows. “A perfectly nerdy match. Tell it to me straight, then. What broke you guys up?”
I don’t want to talk about this. At all, but my mouth won’t shut up. “I don’t know.” My voice is pathetic, like a whimpering, wounded puppy. “We were fine, making long-term plans, then . . . he just ended it all. Kept saying it was for the best.”
“And that’s where you left it? Wow. You need to get answers from that guy. Seriously, at the office it’s like something shady went down on your side. Did your folks not like him?”
“They did.” I pause. “Well, yes and no, I guess. I told my mama Sawyer was interested in pursuing software development, an obvious pay cut. After that, my parents started making these little comments—you know—jabs about him they’d never made before.”
Veronica frowns. “Hmm. Sounds weird. If I were you, I’d get to the bottom of it and then make up with a whole lot more than weird hairy aliens.”
Heat burns across my neck. “I’ll have you know, Chewbacca is iconic. I’d say even distinguished.”
“Sure. I still think you should take this new information and hash it all out.”
“What’s the point?” I say as my manicurist signals that I’m finished. “The way we’ve been together since he started negotiating with the clinic, clearly any feelings once had are gone.”
“On your part, too?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, chest tight. “I wish they were.”
Veronica stands abruptly at the protest of her manicurist. “Get out,” she commands. “Get out of here, now.”
“No. It’s not worth it to dredge it all up again.”
“You were going to marry the guy, right?” She has no idea how close I was to marrying that man. I nod and Veronica lifts me from under my elbow. “Then I’d say it’s worth it. They’ll be back by now. Get. Then, tell me everything.”
Not even Olive would be so aggressive, but Veronica practically shoves me out the door of the salon.
My heart is pounding. Maybe she’s right. I’d loved Sawyer with everything I had. That demands a little explanation, right? Even if the truth will hurt. With shaky hands, I check my phone. True, the guys should be back by now. We need to check out in an hour. I have time to ask.
I take a step toward the elevator. I’m really doing this.
A year later, I’m finally going to get answers from Sawyer Lanford.
Chapter 12
Sawyer
I hate golf.
Why is it a thing that business dealings are done in the boardroom or on the golf course? Whatever happened to poolside, or drinks, or something less sweaty and hot?
I guess it paid off since Willow and Greer are making plans to grow with Lanford & Hewitt. Already, talks of hiring new associates and trainers
to go around the country training medical staff on proper insurance documentation and billing are in the works. With Greer’s help, we might even qualify as official instructors for a nationally recognized continuing education course.
Good things are happening.
Yet, I’m not as excited as I should be.
One thing I lack when it comes to my business is passion. I enjoy the work, the challenge, but I hold little passion for insurance, medical billing codes. Lack of passion is partly why I put us in the market for trainings and insurance investigations. At least with those we get to interact with people and the day isn’t a monotonous jumble of paperwork.
I’d always promised myself I’d work for passion. I mean, I always wanted a good income, but call me crazy, all the money in the world can’t make up for a lackluster job. It’s true, I take pride in Lanford & Hewitt. Building something to such heights is an accomplishment, but I thought by now, I’d be out and building something I really wanted to do.
Dot was never afraid to go after what she wanted.
The clinic, it took her a solid year of market research and community outreach to convince her dad to invest. She never got frustrated or discouraged.
I scrub my face, trying not to think of her. Hard to do when I left this morning as she slept, casita door open, looking peaceful and perfect. It’s an image I’ve had a hard time getting out of my head all day. At least she’s not here now. I can take a breather before we meet up and get my head on straight.
The second the thought clears my head, the door opens.
Spoke too soon. Dot stomps into the room, her face pinched in a scowl. She tosses her purse onto the bed, eyes trained on the carpet, and paces.
“You okay?” I ask.
“No,” she snaps. Her paces quicken. She clenches and unclenches her fists.
“Dot—”
“It’s time you talked to me,” she interrupts.
Ice fills my veins. My skin prickles in goosebumps. If she means what I think she’s meaning, I need to mentally prepare. Practice hiding my anger, or it’ll go off the rails. I clear my throat and shove my hands in my pockets. “About what?”