by T. L. Haddix
Sydney cleared her throat. “Yeah.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Because of Owen’s books?”
“That’s part of it,” she said, focusing on the salad prep. She’d never been able to lie worth a damn, and she hoped he didn’t come right out and ask her about shape-shifting. If he did, the gig was up.
“Makes sense, I suppose.” He reached around her, his arm brushing hers, to take a piece of cheese. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll have to mention it Lee. He does like to hunt on the rare occasion.”
Sydney was horrified. “Oh, boy. Then he and Rachel definitely wouldn’t make a good pair.” She glanced at him. “He’s really interested in her, too. Oh, I hate this.”
“She’s that opposed to hunting, that she’d not date someone who does? I knew she didn’t like it, but that’s all. Sounds like this goes a little deeper. Like maybe there’s another reason behind the dislike. I can’t imagine what that would be, though.”
His tone was too casual. Sydney felt hot and cold all over. She’d not been faced with revealing this particular secret since she was a teenager and had confided in Danny. Scooping the cheese up into a row, she put in on the small plate Sawyer had given her, then faced him.
He was watching her, anticipation written all over his face.
“You can’t imagine?” she asked dryly.
“Well, I could throw a couple of theories out there, but they might make me sound like a lunatic.”
“Spit it out.”
The timer beeped for the bread, causing her to jump. She cursed under her breath even as he chuckled and reached for the oven mitts.
“You can read people’s medical conditions. Noah can see the dead. Your uncles have some interesting, if not spectacular, abilities. And your entire family has this wall of privacy up that very few people get behind. Who’s the deer? Owen? Sarah?”
Sydney stared at him, biting her lip. “That isn’t my secret to tell.”
A wondrous grin spread across his face and he laughed. “Seriously? That’s the secret? I can’t believe it.”
She spread her hands, admitting nothing. “You’re right. You do sound like a lunatic.”
But he wasn’t deterred. “Son of a gun. I knew it was something like this. Ever since I found out about Noah, I’ve wondered.”
He was getting way too big a kick out of his suppositions. Sydney sighed. “You’re like a kid in a candy store.”
“It isn’t every day that you learn mythological creatures exist, and that you know some of them. Although maybe mythological isn’t the right word. Creatures of lore might be better.” He dipped the tortellini out into bowls, then covered it with sauce and handed it to Sydney to shower with shredded cheese.
“Grandpa’s going to want to have a long talk with you,” she told him. “Just so you know.”
“To make sure I’m worthy of knowing? Or rather, what I suspect I know?”
“Something like that.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. Grab the salad?” He picked up the plates and headed to the small table tucked into a nook of the kitchen.
With nothing else to do but go along, Sydney did. As they ate, she could tell he wanted to ask her more questions, but he held back. She was glad—part of her wanted to tell him about the family, to see the wonder in his eyes. But until Owen gave the all-clear, she couldn’t.
Her phone rang just as they were finishing up, the display showing Carter’s picture. “Hmm, okay. Hey. What’s up?” she greeted him.
“Gray doesn’t have your keys. I put them in your purse. He had his hands full of groceries. Where’re you stuck at?”
“They’re not in my purse, brat. And never mind where I’m stuck at.” She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want the family to know she was spending the day and evening at Sawyer’s. She wanted to keep it private, close to her heart, at least for a little while.
“Syd, I put ‘em in your purse. That ugly green bag hooked on the back of the seat? That’s where they are. If you can’t find ‘em, it’s not because of me.”
“You… Carter, that’s not my purse. That’s my emergency bag. You dolt.” She crossed her eyes and shook her head as Sawyer grinned from across the table. Standing, she nodded in the direction of the driveway. “Let me see if they’re there. If they aren’t, the cost for the locksmith is coming out of your allowance.” She wasn’t about to tell him she had free roadside assistance.
“Oh, come on, sis. That’s not fair! I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“How could you think that backpack is a purse?”
“I dunno. I’m fifteen? What do I know about women’s purses?” His voice grew muted, and when the sound cleared, Archer was on the line.
“Syd? Did you find them?”
“I’m looking now.” She’d reached the car and was digging through the bag. When her hand closed around the spare key, she gave a relieved sigh. “Got ‘em.”
Her father laughed. “So I guess you don’t need me to call a locksmith? He’s pacing, you know. He has plans for that allowance.”
“I’m sure he does. No, I’m fine now.” She clicked a button to make sure the spare worked, and her lights flashed cheerily. “Lucky for him and Gray, I have a sympathetic friend who fed me and didn’t mind my staying later than anticipated.”
“Which friend, Danny?”
“Um, no. Not Danny. Just a friend. I’d better go. Thanks, Daddy. How’d Gray do?”
“They lost. But he did well. Not well enough to pull the fat out of the fire, but I’m proud of him.”
Sydney laughed. “You’d be proud of him regardless.”
“True. Why don’t you want me to know who your friend is?”
“I never said that. Gotta go. Love you guys! Be careful coming home.” She hung up on him before he could respond, turning to meet Sawyer’s speculative amusement.
“You don’t want him to know you’re here. Why?” He was leaning against the car, arms crossed. The late afternoon sunlight painted him with a gilded brush, highlighting the light-brown flecks in his eyes. The T-shirt he wore did nothing to disguise the muscles in his chest, his arms, his abdomen. If she’d had one of her mother’s cameras, Sydney would have been clicking away.
“Partly because I like torturing my family, and speculation about where I am will definitely torture them. Painless torture, mind you. And partly because I’m a rebellious imp who doesn’t like answering to authority.” She reached into her purse and grabbed a hair tie, then did her hair up in a ponytail.
The other, unmentioned part was because she didn’t want to set up any suspicion about her relationship with Sawyer and risk someone saying something to him.
“So are you going to rush off now, or do you want dessert?” he asked.
“Depends on whether you’re tired of me or not,” she quipped.
His expression sent chills down her spine, but not from fear. There was a lot of heat in that look, and every butterfly in her stomach took flight.
“I think I can put up with you a while longer. Let’s go get some cheesecake. It might have to defrost, though.”
Implying she’d be here for some time still. She didn’t know if she could stand the anticipation.
Chapter Thirty-Six
In the kitchen, Sawyer got two servings of cheesecake from the freezer and set them out on plates to thaw. When he saw the quirky smile Sydney was watching him with, he shrugged. “What? You know how it is when you’re single—either get single-sized portions or eat the whole thing in a sitting.”
She snickered. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would sit down and eat a whole cheesecake at one time.”
“No?” He grinned as he rinsed off some fresh strawberries and started slicing them to use as a topping. “I could do it without blinking. Same thing for ice cream. That’s why
I don’t keep it in the house. What’s your weakness?”
“You mean besides strawberry cupcakes? I have a deep-seated fondness for potato chips. Sour cream and cheddar, sour cream and onion… Mmm. Have you ever had crumbled potato chips on ice cream?” When he made a face, she laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Why would you do that to ice cream?” Sawyer shook his head and tickled the end of her nose. “That’s cruel.”
“Don’t say that until you’ve tried it.”
There was a little wine left in the bottle and he divided it between their glasses. “So what are we going to do while we wait for this to thaw?”
She glanced at the cheesecake, then at him, her eyes full of mischief. “Now that I’m not awestruck by the sheer magnitude of being allowed in the sanctuary, I’m going to be nosy.” With a sassy flip of her ponytail, she headed for the living room.
Sawyer trailed behind, giving her room to explore as she ambled along, wineglass in hand, examining his belongings. While she was distracted, he took the opportunity to look his fill of her legs. For someone so short, they were a mile long. The image of those legs wrapped around him had him discreetly adjusting the fit of his pants.
“No music or books?” she said as she studied the painting hanging beside the entertainment center.
“They’re in the office.”
“Ahh… next!” She headed for the hall eagerly, leaving him to follow. “Nice TV, by the way.”
He looked at the fifty-two inch flat screen over his shoulder. “It does the job.”
“Ever watch any movies on it?” she asked, her head tilted to the side as she looked at the framed pictures on one of his bookshelves.
Sawyer bypassed her to sit on the edge of his desk. “Some. Usually in winter. I try to stay busy outside the rest of the year. There’s always something that needs doing on a property this size.” He finished off his wine and set the glass behind him.
“Oh, look at this,” Sydney said. She’d gotten to the picture of him and Nan the day he’d graduated from Kentucky’s trooper academy. “God, Sawyer, you were a baby. And she’s so proud of you. You can see it. I’ll bet she pinched your cheeks and everything.”
He smiled as he remembered the day. “She was pretty excited for me. It was a big deal. New chapter and all that.”
“I’m glad you were able to get a fresh start,” she told him seriously. “After what you went through, you needed one.”
“I can’t argue.”
She sighed, looking at the picture again. “Do you have any idea how handsome you were in that uniform? Not that you aren’t just as handsome now,” she assured him cheekily, “but there’s something about the uniform…”
Sawyer laughed, incredulous. “Sydney Gibson, you’re a closet badge bunny.”
Her cheeks were pink when she looked at him. “No. Aside from that one mortifying event when I was nineteen, I would never throw myself at you. I’d just admire you from afar. I still can’t believe I did that. Did I ever apologize?”
“No, but none was necessary. I knew you regretted it as soon as it happened.”
“That child was so impulsive… It’s a miracle she didn’t mess up her life more than she did.”
She was close enough now that he could touch her and unable to resist the urge, he did. Reaching out, he tugged on her right hand, the hand that wasn’t holding the wineglass, and pulled her to him.
“That girl had a lot going for her. She was just young and green. She also had more sense than you’re giving her credit for.”
“You remember her more fondly than I do, then.” She set her glass down next to his, the move bringing them in full contact for a few seconds. “And that wine has loosened my tongue and my inhibitions.”
“You’ve not had that much of it.”
She scowled and nudged her glasses up her nose. “Of course I have. There’s no other reason for my being so candid.”
He grinned. “Have it your way, then. But I wouldn’t be giving you a Breathalyzer based on how much you’ve put away tonight.”
When she put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, laughing, he was shocked. But he wasn’t going to complain. Indeed, he brought his own hands up to her waist, drawing her closer to stand between his legs.
“Do you know what Neala calls a Breathalyzer?” she asked, snorting. “It has nothing to do with a device, everything to do with sucking instead of blowing, and from what she’s said, it’s gotten her out of several tickets. Oh, my God. I can’t believe I told you that.” She covered her mouth with her hand, but the mirth still leaked out from her eyes and through her laugh.
Sawyer drew in a sharp breath, every cell in his body becoming electrified as realization dawned. “I—I don’t have words.”
To his astonishment, instead of lowering her hand back to his chest, she brought it up and traced his lips with soft fingers. “So you’ve never let a girl out of a ticket by giving her a Breathalyzer?”
“No.” He knew cops who had, though. “I’m not surprised Neala would employ that tactic. She’s not my favorite person.”
“I know.”
When they were nineteen, Neala and Danny had gone to a party during summer break. Sydney, who’d had a job at the time and was working, hadn’t been invited. Neala’d gotten Danny drunk with the intention of having sex with him despite knowing he was gay. Suffice it to say things hadn’t gone well. Danny’d gotten his hands on a gun her step-father had left in his truck, and Neala’d barely managed to keep him from killing himself. She’d called Sydney, who’d rushed to the scene and talked him down.
As Danny hadn’t been in any shape to go to his own home, Sydney’d taken him with her. Sawyer’d pulled her over just as a precaution, since it was close to three in the morning when he spotted her driving along. He hadn’t expected to find a drunk, suicidal Danny in the car with her. He’d confiscated the gun, then escorted her home and stayed the rest of the night to help Archer and Emma sort through the mess.
“If it had been anyone else that night, we would have been in a world of hurt. Did I ever say thank you?” she asked him now.
“A few times. I’m just glad it was me that night, not someone else. You would have been in real trouble.”
Her smile carried a bit of sadness. “I know. Daddy actually put his foot down at that point, forbade me from having anything to do with her, even though I was an adult. I was happy to comply. I’ve still not forgiven her for that, even though Danny has. She has issues. Her childhood was rough, and she never has figured out that she has to let it go, that she has to choose not to be a victim any longer. I heard from her last week.”
“What’d she want?”
“To reconnect, she said,” her voice distracted as she followed the line of his jaw with her fingers. “You know, you kissed me in Tennessee.”
“I did.”
“When I kissed you all those years ago, it was terribly awkward. Tennessee… wasn’t.”
“No. I wouldn’t use awkward to describe that kiss,” he told her huskily.
“How would you describe it?” she asked boldly, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she’d stepped into his arms.
Sawyer reached up and removed her glasses, folding them carefully. He put them on the desk, then slid one hand into her hair, the other going back to her waist. “Tempting. Taunting, maybe. Entirely too short. And something that most definitely bears repeating.” With that, he kissed her.
Unlike in Tennessee, where he’d had to be mindful of their audience, his only concern here was going too far, too fast for Sydney’s taste. But as she met him more than halfway, immediately taking the kiss into the red-hot territory, he knew that wasn’t an issue. Instead, they might burn the damned place down if they weren’t careful.
T
he kiss went on and on, interrupted only when they had to come up for air. Even then, his mouth only left her skin long enough to draw in a breath. Before long, it wasn’t enough. When he felt her hands on the bare skin of his back, her nails lightly raking as she nibbled her way along his jaw, he groaned.
“This probably isn’t a good idea. I’m your boss,” he said.
She bit down harder, just a little, then soothed the sting with her tongue. “We aren’t at work.”
“I’m old enough to be your father.”
“But you aren’t. That role is more than filled, thank you very much.” She pulled her face back, her hands coming to his chest to trail down past his abdomen to his waistband. “Any other objections?”
“Um… This won’t turn into anything permanent?” His own hands were busy running over the smooth skin of her back, and he nuzzled the sensitive area beneath her ear with his mouth before sucking lightly.
Sydney’s hands curled around the belt loops on his shorts, and she lifted onto her toes into his touch. “I know that,” she finally gasped. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other for a while, does it?”
It was Sawyer’s turn to pull back, to study her flushed face. “No. It doesn’t. I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a big girl. I’m responsible for my own feelings, just like you’re responsible for yours. Maybe I’ll be the one who hurts you.”
“Maybe. Do you have any idea how much I want you in my bed?”
She gave a small whimper. “Some idea, yes. That desire thing works both ways.”
He kissed her lightly as he brought his hands around, sliding up her ribcage to tease the undersides of her breasts. The warmth and soft fullness of her was beyond tempting, and he cupped her, his thumbs going to circle her nipples, which were already stiff and tight with longing.
“Oh, God, Sawyer. That’s dangerous,” she told him on a moan, rubbing her cheek against his. Her hands came up to cover his, pressing him closer. “I think now’s probably a good time for you to show me your bedroom.”