by Debbie Mason
Her heart did a little flip when she saw Sawyer standing with his back to her looking out the window over the sink. All the sexy morning-after lines left her head at the sight of his damp hair, sweat from his run molding the black sleeveless T-shirt to his broad back, his black sweat shorts riding low on his narrow hips.
For maybe a second, she contemplated throwing herself into his arms and kissing him. Something Chloe would do, but she was no Chloe. Jill didn’t have a tenth of her confidence. Confidence that the man currently guzzling a glass of water with the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear felt anywhere near what she felt for him. Despite evidence to the contrary last night.
He put the glass on the counter, then massaged the back of his neck. “You know we’re good here, Jack. Seriously, there’s no reason to cut your holiday short.” He paused and listened to her brother. “Okay, I get it. I probably won’t be here when you get in. Jill’s off, and shit’s piling up on my plate. Yeah, she’s fine. Her usual, you know. Giving me grief.” He turned as though sensing her standing there, and his eyes swept over her before returning to her face. He grimaced. “Right, we’ll talk when you get home.”
She crossed her arms. “Is grief what they’re calling orgasms these days? You seemed to have enjoyed the two you had.” She did her best to keep the hurt from her voice. She should have known better than to expect that things had changed.
He looked surprised, then quickly recovered, his voice laced with frustration and maybe a hint of nerves. “So what? You would have preferred me to say ‘Yeah, me and your baby sister got it on last night, and she blew my mind?’”
“I blew more than your mind,” she muttered, despite the small flicker of hope that maybe she had. But she was too angry at the way he’d casually dismissed their night together to let it sink in.
He stared at her, the muscles in his corded neck moving as he swallowed hard. “Yeah, you did. But if you think I’m going to share any of this with your brother, you’re crazy. I don’t have a death wish. You have to give me a little time to—”
“To what, blow me off? You know what, let’s forget last night ever happened. It was a mistake.”
He came to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, dipping his head to look her in the eyes. “I couldn’t forget last night even if I wanted to. But babe, you gotta cut me some slack. For more than fifteen years I’ve been warning every guy I’ve ever met not to do what I did last night. Give me some time to get my head around it, okay?”
She lifted her shoulder and looked away. “Whatever. I’m a big girl. It was just sex. I’m not expecting you to put a ring on my finger if that’s what you’re worried about,” she lied, maybe not about the ring so much as what last night meant to her.
“It wasn’t just sex, and you know it.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I wish I could stick around today, but I’ve got a lot to do. You going to be okay on your own?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. His kiss said it all.
His smile looked strained as he walked away. He stopped on the bottom step and turned. “Until we figure this out, it’s probably best if you don’t share it with Grace and your girls.”
“Don’t worry, Sawyer. I’m not planning on taking out an ad in the Chronicle.”
He bent his head and gave it a slight, frustrated shake before looking at her. “You have no idea what’s going to go down when Jack finds out about us.”
And there it was—his friendship with her brother meant more to him than she did. “I’ll make it easy on you. Don’t say anything. There’s nothing to tell.” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth. “No, we had sex. And no matter how great it was, that’s all it was.”
She didn’t add all you want it to be. One of them had to be the realist in this non-relationship. It might as well be her. Along with the sheriff, she’d also remove Sawyer from her vision board when she got home. And then she remembered she’d already done that. Too bad she hadn’t thought about that last night. In her defense, once he’d had his mouth on her, he’d made it pretty hard to think.
Bells clanged upstairs and little Jack yelled at the top of his lungs. “Auntie J, Uncle Sawyer, I want out.”
Jill wasn’t sure if it was frustration or relief she saw in Sawyer’s hazel eyes.
* * *
Sawyer stared at the computer screen in his office at the Penalty Box. He wasn’t any further ahead on his paperwork than when he started it an hour ago. He kept seeing Jill standing there in his shirt looking like she’d taken a hit. That was tough, but what was worse was remembering the way she felt over him, under him, and beside him. Her low, sexy moans, her long, talented fingers, and that mouth, that amazing mouth. She was passionate and giving and she’d done what no other woman had done before her, she’d made him laugh and she’d made him smile and she’d made him…Jesus. He didn’t want it to end this way, no matter what she seemed to think.
He pulled out his phone and texted her: Why don’t you bring little Jack by for a root beer float? I’ll be here for another hour. They didn’t open until noon, and Jack and Grace wouldn’t be back until late tonight. Sawyer still had a crapload to do, including stopping by the hospital for a couple of hours before working at the bar until close. But he’d gotten at least one good piece of news today: the NHL was considering endorsing Gold Rush. Something he wanted to share with Jill. Who was he trying to kid? He wanted to see her. Wanted to convince her to give them a chance.
He checked his phone at the sound of an incoming text. He smiled at the emoticons filling up his screen, and then a blurry picture of little Jack with what looked to be Jill’s hand reaching out. The kid must have gotten hold of her phone.
Another text came through: Nix the float. He doesn’t need any more sugar. But if you’re up for a game of air hockey with him, we’re there.
Relieved that she wasn’t avoiding him, he responded with a smile: Always.
See you in fifteen.
Sawyer shut down the computer and pushed back his chair from the desk. He’d pick up a couple of blueberry scones at the bakery and put on a pot of coffee for Jill. It sounded like she might need one.
As he headed for the front of the bar, Brandi flung open the door. “Hey, what are you doing here this early… What’s wrong?” he asked, taking in the panic on her face.
She glanced behind her, clutching her purse to her chest. “Steve. I haven’t seen much of you the past couple of days so I thought we could catch up before it got busy. He followed me here.”
Now wasn’t the time to think about what her need to catch up meant. There was a more urgent matter to deal with. He couldn’t believe his warning hadn’t registered with the asshole. “He still out there?”
She gave him a quick nod. Her eyes were bloodshot. She looked tired and a little frantic. “He says we have to talk. I don’t want to talk to him, Sawyer. I can’t deal with him anymore.”
She had to deal with the situation, but she didn’t have to deal with her ex. “You don’t have to. I will. Stay here,” he said, helping her onto a stool before heading for the door.
Sure enough, Dawson was approaching the bar. He jerked to a stop when he saw Sawyer. “I wanna talk to Brandi,” he said with a belligerent thrust of his bearded chin. He looked like he’d walked off the set of Duck Dynasty wearing camo pants and an army-green T-shirt. He was an inch or two shorter than Sawyer, but he had him by a good fifty pounds.
Sawyer moved to stand in front of him and crossed his arms. “What part of she doesn’t want to talk to you did you not understand yesterday? You got questions, go through Brandi’s lawyer.”
“You got no business sticking your nose in this. They’re my wife and kid.”
“You got a problem with your hearing, Dawson? ’Cause I’m sure I told you this yesterday, but in case you didn’t quite get it the first time, I’ll repeat myself. Brandi and Trent are my business. I see or hear that you were within ten feet of them, I’ll have you charged with harassment.�
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“Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t get between a man and his family.”
“A man, Dawson? I don’t think so. A man doesn’t whale on his wife with his fists. And a man holds down a job, supports his family. He doesn’t drain their bank account and steal his wife’s tips to go get shit-faced with his pals.”
Dawson’s face flushed, his meaty fists curling at his sides. Do it. Give it your best shot, Sawyer thought, so he could give him one back. He needed to release the anger building inside him at the reminder of what this no-good asshole had put Brandi through.
“I did my time. Now I wanna do right by my—”
Several people on the sidewalk across the street glanced their way. Sawyer lowered his voice. “Twice, Dawson. You didn’t learn your lesson the first time. Why should Brandi believe you now? You stalking them sure as hell isn’t giving her reason to. Keep it up and you’ll end up back in jail. Now be smart and get in your truck and leave.”
He stabbed Sawyer’s chest with his finger. “This ain’t over, pretty boy. I’m getting my family back one way or another.”
Sawyer put his own threat in his smile as he wrapped his hand around Dawson’s and squeezed. “You’ll have to go through me to get to them.”
“Jesus, let me go.” The other man’s face contorted, his knees buckling. “I’ll have your ass for assault.”
Sawyer squeezed harder, lifting his chin at the security camera above the Penalty Box. “Won’t fly, I’ve got it on tape. Just protecting myself.” He released his grip on Dawson’s hand, shoving him back as he let go. The other man stumbled into the hood of his pickup. “Instead of stalking Trent and Brandi, why don’t you get a job? Start making up for all the child support you never paid.”
Holding his injured hand to his chest, Dawson fumbled with the door to his truck with his other hand. He stared at Sawyer as he got in the pickup. Sawyer couldn’t get a good read on the emotion swirling in the man’s dark eyes, but he got the feeling he hadn’t seen the last of him.
Sawyer pulled out his cell phone and left a detailed message on Ethan’s voicemail. He’d fill Jill in when she got here. No doubt she’d be ticked he’d confronted Dawson, but Sawyer wanted to ask her about filing a restraining order. And he wanted her to give the man’s probation officer a call.
When he walked into the bar, Brandi was still sitting where he left her. He didn’t like what he’d seen in her eyes. The same beaten-down look he’d once seen in his mother’s. It wasn’t easy being a single parent, especially on what a waitress brought in. It’s why he’d made Brandi his manager and put her on salary. He needed to do something more. If Gold Rush went as well as he suspected it would, he’d have plenty of coin. Not that he was hurting. He’d been paid extremely well by the Flurries and he didn’t play loose with his cash. He was saving for a house. But he’d bought his mother a nice place in Arizona that set him back some. And it wasn’t like he was raking it in at the bar.
He leaned on the back of the stool beside hers. “You need a holiday. Why don’t you take a couple of weeks off? You and Trent could—”
She shook her head. “No, I like working, and I need the money.”
“Paid holiday, Brandi. And I’ve got a friend who has a great resort outside of Aspen. Trent would have a blast…” He held up his hand when she went to protest. “My treat. You’ve earned it.”
“I can’t leave. Not until this thing with Steve is settled. I feel safer in town. We have you and our friends looking out for us. Besides, Trent has hockey camp.”
“Just think about it, okay? Hockey camp’s over at the end of July.”
She searched his face. “Is this because of something Steve said?”
“No, it’s because you deserve a break.”
“So you got through to him? He’s going to leave us alone?”
He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “He’ll back off for now, but only until he regroups. The best thing for you to do is get your case in front of a judge as soon as possible. He doesn’t have a hope in hell of getting visitation until he gets his act together. And I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“I can’t afford a lawyer, and I won’t be Ethan’s charity case.”
“No problem, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take it out of your check. Spread it over the next two or three years, whatever works. I was planning on giving you a raise anyway. Gold Rush is taking up more of my time, and I’ll need you to take over some of the paperwork.”
She bowed her head, and her shoulders began to shake.
“Hey now, come on. Don’t cry. It’s going to be all right. I promise,” he said, folding her into his arms.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re always there for me and Trent.” She sniffed into his neck, then pulled back, looking at him through tear-filled eyes.
Sawyer hadn’t been able to get a read on the emotion in Dawson’s eyes, but he knew exactly what he was seeing in Brandi’s. He was screwed. And he didn’t know how badly until she curved her hand around his neck and kissed him. It was not a grateful kiss or a kiss shared by friends. This was a wet kiss, filled with longing and heat.
“See, Uncle Sawyer’s kissing her yips.”
Chapter Seventeen
It’d been more than a month since Jill and little Jack had walked in on Brandi kissing him. They’d gone from considering a relationship to definitely not having one. At least in Sawyer’s mind they’d been thinking of taking their friendship to the next level. Jill had made it clear the morning after the best night of his life that it had been sex and only sex. A one-time aberration.
She didn’t seem to care that Sawyer wanted more. But after the “kissing on the yips” incident, he’d reluctantly come around to her way of thinking. Probably because, after he’d chased Jill down to try and explain, he’d returned to the bar to face Brandi, who, unlike Jill, was definitely on board with taking their friendship to the next level. No matter how carefully Sawyer had broken the news that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her, but was extremely interested in one with Jill, Brandi hadn’t exactly been jumping for joy.
She’d made a couple cracks about what a relationship with Jill would cost him, reminding him how close he’d come to losing Jack’s friendship in the past. And even though Sawyer understood where the comments were coming from, they’d reinforced his own concerns and guilt. Which was how he’d ended up on the same page as Jill.
But seeing her now in the hall outside Bill’s room at Mountainview, Sawyer felt a moment’s regret that they hadn’t given their relationship at least a shot. She wore her faded jean shorts, a long-sleeve gray T-shirt, and sandals. With one long, shapely leg bent at the knee and her foot pressed to the wall, she thumbed through her phone. Her hair was held back by her sunglasses. Longer now than the night those dark, silky locks had brushed across his bare chest. His regret intensified at the memory, as did his desire when she turned her head and those stunning blue eyes locked on him.
A flicker of emotion flashed across her face before she contained it, and he wondered if she shared his regret, his desire. But he pushed aside any more thoughts of what they were missing out on when he realized she must have a reason to be standing outside Bill’s room. He jogged down the hall. “What’s going on? Has something happened to Bill?”
She put out a hand, stopping him from entering the room. “Calm down. He’s fine,” she whispered. “His physiotherapist is with him.”
“Oh, okay.” He leaned against the wall beside her. “Why are you whispering?”
“Because he’s not improving like he should. So I’m listening in on their session. She’s not providing the full forty-five minutes. You’re getting ripped off.”
Like Jill, he hadn’t thought Bill’s recovery was progressing as it should, so he’d hired a physiotherapist a couple weeks ago. He supposed he should be happy Jill was keeping an eye on Bill, and he was. But there was a part of him that resented her
for giving him further proof that she was a woman worth fighting for. “Thanks, Shortstop. Appreciate you looking out for him, and me.”
She slanted him a look, and it wasn’t a happy one. He figured she didn’t appreciate him reverting back to her childhood nickname. And since he was slightly ticked at her, he said, “Sorry, I know you prefer ‘babe,’ but I reserve that for women I’m dating.”
“Probably smart since, according to my brother, you change them out on a weekly basis. At least you don’t have to worry about remembering their names,” she said, looking at her screen.
He would have laughed, enjoyed sparring with her, if she hadn’t mentioned that the information came from her brother. Then he reminded himself it was his own fault Jack thought he was a player. He’d been the one fueling the misconception for a couple years now. But she knew better. “And you know that’s bullshit because you wouldn’t have let me near you without a condom if you thought it was true,” he whispered in her ear.
Their heavy make-out session had nearly ended when he’d discovered there were no condoms in the house. It wasn’t as if he’d expected to get lucky and had come prepared. And since it was late and the stores were closed, it had looked like they’d end the night with a cold shower instead. Until Jill volunteered that she was on the Pill. And he’d admitted he was seven months and counting into a dry spell, which was the reason he didn’t have a supply at his place. Until Jill he’d never had sex without a condom before.
She responded with a noncommittal sound, a dark flush coloring her high cheekbones. Then she cleared her throat and without looking at him said, “If she holds true to form, she should be leaving anytime now.”
“Huh, I’m disappointed. I was expecting another smart-ass comeback.”
She opened her mouth to no doubt give him one when, just as she’d predicted, the physiotherapist walked out of the room. She stopped when she spotted them, looking from Jill to him. “Hi, session’s over for the day. You can go on in,” she said with a cheery smile.