I stared at him for a long moment, my head pointing out all the red flags: devastatingly handsome, at least ten years my junior, the musician thing he had going on, his dirty comments, which probably meant a dirty mind.
The last thought made me ache because he'd probably had many girls, and I'd only ever had one relationship before Logan.
My two-guy haul of sexual experiences made me a damn boring prospect for any man, never mind Sawyer. Yet, as I stood there facing him, my free will found the courage to egg me on and I relented. What harm could it do to have a coffee?
I nodded. "An hour, but only because I have to hear the story about your sudden change of career."
We walked another two hundred yards in silence then he reached down and took my hand. My gaze dropped to them and the flutter in my stomach made my heart soar. "I meant it when I said your hair suited you, Billie. You look sensational."
"It's just hair."
"No, it's a statement. It says look at me; I'm fucking hot. I'm in control. I am enough."
"Funny, it doesn't say that on the stylist's menu. The wording next to the picture says blow-dry."
"Anyone ever inform you that you're hard work when someone pays you a compliment? Do you know this?"
"Yep, especially hot rock musicians, because I'm highly suspicious as to why you're focusing so much attention on me. I don't know what you think you see, but I'm very boring. So you should back away."
"Oh, no, lady. Not likely. I love a challenge."
"Ah, so that's what I am?" I asked like this was a eureka moment.
"Kind of. That guard you have up this evening is about as welcoming as a pit bull that hasn't been fed for days, for starters." He sighed, looked down at the ground then back up to me. "Look, Billie, I don't know what agenda you think I have, but all I see is a very beautiful woman I'd like the chance to know better."
"Why?"
"Because I'm attracted to you, and the first time I met you I thought you were so fucking hot. Then when we talked a little and I knew what you were going through, I wanted to see you again."
"And throwing down an escort card was your way of guaranteeing I'd find you."
"Jeez, darlin', that card was a joke. I'm not a male escort, I'm a musician. Usually, I'm with my band," he advised me, chuckling. "The way I looked that day was down to my buddy David's crazy idea. He was the best man at our friend Brian's wedding. Two days before I met you, David had made all of us dress up in fancy suits for Brian's bachelor party. The days before that, the fucker tortured me for four hours straight at the beauty parlor. It took a good twelve hours for the redness to die down from all the waxing. He'd had us all hot shaved, gotten us manicures, haircuts, the works. He even had us dress to look the part in that fancy designer wear, right down to our expensive underwear."
Watching how animated he became as he pointed at various parts of his body made me laugh because when I saw the wisps of hair at the top of his chest and his beard, I figured having all that hair removed must have hurt. If his story was even true.
"Our themed night on the town was a scream. We'd all had to pass ourselves off as male escorts and had gone around handing out those cards to pretty girls and handsome guys we met in bars. David, my buddy, had the business cards printed for all of us, but his imagination didn't extend to making the phone numbers up. The cell numbers he put on the cards were our real ones."
"Good grief," I said, chuckling.
" I left the card for you because it had my real number on it. Given the circumstances we had met under, and what had subsequently happened between us, it hadn't felt the right time or the place to ask you for yours. Not knowing what else to do, I'd left that card with you hoping you may call and thank me again … or talk about what we'd done. If you'd called, I would have explained the card then. You can't fault me for not asking for your number that day. I mean, your husband had left the very same place barely five minutes before."
"And there was a girl?"
"Yep," he muttered and shook his head. "Beer goggles should be banned." He sighed and looked ashamed of himself. "I must have been blind drunk when I took her back to the hotel David had booked for us all. The morning after the bachelor party, I was polite toward my pickup but when I tried to walk away she wouldn't leave me alone." He sniggered. "I guess I must have given the performance of my life because she followed me everywhere the day we met. I dunno, maybe she was meant to chase me so that I met you."
"Fate," I scoffed.
"Could be. Something like that, anyway," he replied, sounding hopeful.
"I'm way too old for you, Sawyer."
"Wouldn't that be my call to make?"
"Thanks. I'm flattered but—"
"But what? Why can't we just be two people who are attracted to one another, without caring about silly things like age and what others would think? I mean, I didn't realize I had to be a certain age to be attracted to any woman. So come on, live a little. I swear I won't hurt you."
"Who says I'm attracted to you? Also, I remember another man using those very words and I believed him, so you'll forgive me if—"
"I may be a little younger than you are, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the same buzz when a woman is into me. By the way, I'm not your husband, so don't compare me to him. He's a grade-A asshole."
"At least there is something we agree on."
Sawyer sniggered and his shoulders visibly relaxed. Placing his hands together in prayer in front of him, he flashed me a winning smile.
"Come on, come with me," he whined. "I'm starving. Here, feel," he said, grabbing my hand before I could object and splaying it over the tightly stretched thin cotton T-shirt he wore. Heat radiated from his lean, hard abdominal muscles underneath and I felt his stomach rumble. "I'm not a liar. I skipped dinner when my buddy, Kevy, called in a favor. The band he had booked to play got a better offer with more money upstate and he called in the cavalry—me."
"You're a good friend," I remarked.
"Good at most things," he said cockily. Then he winked.
I blushed and chuckled. "Okay, but just so we're clear, all I'm agreeing to is coffee." A broad smile curved up his lips and his warm eyes creased in a genuine smile.
"I'll take it," he said, taking hold of my hand again and linking it under his arm. When I tried to slide it out again, he quickly squished it against his body with a chuckle. "Hey, what's the deal? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"
"A little," I admitted. "Like I said, you're a hot young guy. People will stare."
"Of course they will, and they'll be saying what's that scruffy-looking turd doing with a stunner like her?" His comment lifted my heart because it was impulsive and hadn't felt contrite. "Anyway, who gives a fuck? Do you know them? Do they know you? Even if they do," he dipped his head and looked up at me through his lashes at the same time, "would they care as much as you think they would?" I sighed, a small unsure smile on my lips and a warm feeling in my chest that Sawyer wanted people to see me on his arm.
It was late and I was enjoying the attention he paid me, so I agreed. "All right. Let's do this," I felt scared as hell, stepping out of my comfort zone.
Chapter Six
Sawyer did his best human trash can impression by demolishing a three-foot barbecue chicken pan pizza and a family-size portion of blueberry pie all on his own.
Meanwhile, I listened attentively as he filled me in between mouthfuls on the missing pieces of what I thought I knew about him.
"I'm a full-time musician and have been for almost nine years now. I disappointed my dad, who wanted me to follow in the family firm, but he's in finance and that's as boring as fuck."
"Where do you play?"
"All over. We finished a five-week tour of the West Coast the week before I met you last year, and we've done two more tours since then. We're headed out to hit up a few places again a week from Monday." My heart reacted oddly and sank the moment I heard he was leaving. I reminded myself nothing could come of us anyway.
>
"Which states?" I asked. I tried to shake the dull feeling that had settled in my gut.
"Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas. I'll be gone for about a month. Will you miss me?" he teased.
"Considering I've survived the last ten months, I think I'll live."
Reaching across the table, he lifted my hand and cupped it between both of his. His touch immediately warmed me from the inside out and tiny sparks of desire shot through me. "Ah, so you did miss me. You've been counting, huh?"
He'd been joking but I snickered because he had no idea how much I had clung to the memory of what had happened the last time I'd seen him.
"You wish," I offered as a throwaway denial. "You'll be plenty busy once you're on the road having fun," I said, gesturing my coffee cup toward him before taking a sip. The dull ache I mentioned deepened with the thought that he'd be out there in some other state, meeting girls.
"You should come," he replied, smiling. My coffee sprayed out of my mouth when I burst out laughing.
"Ha!" I chuckled. "I can't even envision that, me hanging around a rock band full of hot guys like a groupie."
"You wouldn't be. I'm the only good-looking one. The others get laid because they're with me,"I knew his cocky reply was a joke. "No, seriously, you shouldn't think like that. Not all musicians are groupie chasers."
"No?"
"I'm not. I have standards. And the stereotypical opinion of musicians in bands isn't always our reality. You wouldn't believe the shit I go through to bring our music to people. Being cooped up with three other guys you work with is downright hard. The shit I put up with is only tolerable because we're a good fit on the stage. It gets tiresome hearing people air their opinions about us when it's their attitudes they need to address."
"So the press has it all wrong with the stories they share about wrecked hotel rooms and a girl on each arm?"
"Mostly. I'm not saying I'm a saint, and sometimes we need to let off some steam."
"By wrecking hotel rooms and sleeping with a bunch of groupies?"
"As I said, that's not me. I'm not saying it never happens, but it doesn't happen to me."
"I'm sitting here looking at you. How…" I stopped talking because I found it hard to explain what I saw.
"How what?" he asked, frowning.
"Looking how you do and …"
"How do I look?" he asked, frowning. When I didn't reply he prompted me again, "Come on, you started this. Don't stop now."
"I was about to say you look so masculine, hot, sexy, charming and dangerous, dressed in your cool, casual clothing, with testosterone oozing from every pore," I finished, looking at him, blinking and not believing I'd said all of that out loud.
"Wow, good to know you like what you see. I turn you on?" he asked with a cheeky wink.
"You don't," I snapped quickly, and the speed of my delivery told him I'd lied.
Sawyer shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "You said, sexy. I heard you, but here's the deal. You need a little attitude adjustment, Billie. You're an amazingly attractive woman, but you've had a rough time and, because of that, you can only see the negatives of someone like me having an interest in you."
"Now, I didn't say I felt negative about you, I meant how what you do for a living looks from my perspective."
"Then let me fill you in on the positives of what I do a moment. When I see an audience sing, dance, and get lost in the words of a song that I wrote, I imagine their lives. Did they put their kids to bed before they came to see us? Did they have a hard day's work that day, be that physically or mentally? Or maybe they don't have a job at all, however, by some twist they'd made it to our gig on that particular night. Then, I think about how I feel when I sing to them and the feeling of freedom and privilege it gives me doing what I love and sharing it with them."
"I hadn't imagined a guy in a band would think all of that," I mused, not expecting such a profound answer.
"To some of our fans, our performance may only be an hour and a half of escapism, but for others, it might be a lifetime memory because of who they were with or what happened before or after. But for me, it's a spiritual connection with all of them through the lyrics of the song."
"Those are deep thoughts."
"They may be, or you can choose not to see the good in what you do and let life pass you by. Life is full of games of chance, fated meetings, or opportunities, but sometimes you need to be willing to step out of your comfort zone and be open to all of those situations."
"That's fine if you're carefree, but with responsibilities, it isn't easy to just make decisions like that. My life wouldn't fit with the chaos of chance," I snapped. I sounded a little more defensive than I'd been aiming for.
"Maybe that's how you think because of what happened to you. Your attitude is that of a victim right now, and I get that. Your husband fucked you over and left you for someone you regard as better than you."
"Better than me?"
"Yeah, I'm great at reading people and I saw how you looked at her in that wine bar. How your shoulders slumped like you thought you couldn't compete, how you immediately wished you were younger and how you hated her for taking your husband away from you. I knew very little about you then, but it didn't take a mastermind to read your body language or the hurt in your gorgeous blue eyes, despite the little bit you'd shared with me," he informed me gently, as he twirled his dessert spoon in a small circular motion at my face.
"I never knew I was so transparent," I mumbled, feeling naked and shocked at how intuitive he had been to have read all that in my eyes.
"Can I ask you something?" he probed, his face solemn, his serious eyes boring into mine.
"Sure," I replied. But I felt anything other than that.
"How can you readily accept your husband has run off with someone younger but can't fathom that someone younger, someone like me, could be attracted to you?"
I shrugged, like he had a point and dismissed it. "It's different for men."
"Is that so?" he asked. The question in his disappointed tone cut into me.
"Yes," I replied with more than a degree of determination in mine.
"Bullshit," he cursed in frustration and leaned closer across the table. Reaching out again, he smoothed my bangs from my suspicious eyes and stared intently into them again.
"You, Billie—and I am not lying or pulling a number on you when I say this—are a very beautiful woman. You have this … aura, for lack of a better word, and I can't stop looking at you. You have this draw, this magnetism, that pulls me in."
"Mm-hmm," I said. Heat rushed to my cheeks because I didn't dare believe his smooth, slick-talking. Having been married for as long as I was, it felt like a line to get into my pants.
Sawyer blew a long breath through his nose and his annoyance flitted over his face. Immediately after this, I watched his eyes lose their frustration and soften.
"I don't know what that guy did to rob you of your self-worth, but he did a number on you. Trust me, your ex-husband didn't deserve you. How we met and what happened between us was the weirdest event of my life so far, but I don't feel I'm wrong about the strong feelings or the definite chemistry that passed between us during that kiss."
"This is embarrassing …"
"No, it isn't, we were two consenting adults. When you gave yourself up to me like that, I'll admit I was shocked, but I hadn't been ready to stop when I did. Do you think I'd waste my time here with you if I didn't feel there was something worth exploring between us?"
"The same question had crossed my mind, about you wasting your time. I mean, there are millions of pretty girls out there waiting for you."
"Maybe. But right now, you're the one I'm with. And from my perspective, there's only one beautiful woman."
"There. That's my problem, right there."
"Excuse me? Did I miss something?"
"Right now."
"What are you looking for? What do you want me to say?"
"I'm
not a right now kind of person?" I told him.
"Poor choice of words. What I meant was I'm very attracted to you, we've got an amazing connection, and I'd like to see where this goes."
"I'm not looking for a relationship."
"So why are you worried? Why can't we just have some fun and see how this develops?"
"I don't want to be someone's bit of fun and I don't want something to develop. I'm much older than you."
"You're scared."
I scoffed, and my gaze drifted. "Of course I am. You have no idea what I went through." He placed his warm palm against my cheek. My eyes immediately met his again. He licked his lips and frowned, but his gaze held steady to mine.
"Love hurts, Billie. Whether we're with someone or not. Like you, I've been burned, and for a while, I was down on my fucking knees. Newsflash, betrayal fucked with my mind, but I survived. I've also had the benefit of a sneak peek at how your husband discarded your feelings. You've got to push the negatives you carry from that relationship away and let someone else step in. We're not all like him. I'm not like him."
"You don't know—"
"What it's like? That is what you were going to say, right?"
"I just told you I do. I was in a long-term relationship for … six years. I came home from a tour two days early, when the last gig was canceled, and found my live-in girlfriend in our bed, bouncing naked in my older brother's lap!" Hurt dimmed his usually bright hazel eyes at the memory and my heart squeezed tight for him.
"I'm sorry, I had no idea."
"Don't be, it is what it is. James and Charlotte deserve one another. This isn't about them. All I want is to help you to start living again," he said softly, taking my hand in his.
"Forget age and baggage. Forget everything. You're attracted to me. Otherwise, we wouldn't have gotten this far tonight, right?"
Fresh heat crept into my cheeks, stunned by how forthright he was. My heartbeat thudded rapidly as his thumb scored over my knuckles, and I knew I hadn't felt more emotionally connected to anyone in years. Still, there were flags, mostly red, frantically waving in front of my eyes.
DARE You, Dare Duet, Part One: Billie and Sawyer: Unchained Attraction Series Page 7