The Cannon (Swift Book 3)

by Leslie Pike

  “Sawyer, take these to the table, please.”

  I know what he’s doing. Boone Swift is transparent when it comes to his children’s welfare. There’s no hidden meanings or agendas. And no line he won’t cross to see us happy. He likes the kind of man Sawyer presents as. Genuine and modest. Thinks we’d be a good match. The entire family seems to have reached that conclusion. I stand alone in my hesitation which is attempting to push me over.

  “Oh good! Grandma’s pecan pie.” Mallory looks up as I pass behind her.

  Placing servings in front of my mother and January as Sawyer serves my grandparents.

  “Looks delicious, Birdie,” Grandpa lands a kiss on her cheek.

  “Honey,” she says touching Sawyer’s arm, “have you ever tried Tennessee pecan pie?”

  “No ma’am. It looks good though.”

  “Sit. Sit back down. Let’s talk,” Grandpa orders.

  Uh oh. It’s always been my brothers who’ve felt the sting of Grandpa’s unfiltered comments. Think Sawyer’s about to get the Davis inquisition.

  Sawyer takes his seat and I mine. I’m not going to let this get too out of hand. Lord knows what he’s going to be asked.

  “So, tell an old man. What kind of girls do you like? Sassy like my girl, or do you prefer the quiet type?”

  “Oh God,” I mutter before I realize the words have left my lips.

  Mallory chuckles under her breath and my mother joins her. Good thing Atticus and Brick aren’t in here. They’d be encouraging him to ask more. Egging him on.

  “I like sassy quiet girls. You know, like Bristol.”

  Ohhhhh no he didn’t. I’m about to respond when the men return. Right in time to hear the laughter coming from Grandpa.

  “What did we miss? Anything good?” Atticus says, unaware of how spot-on the question is.

  Grandpa opens his mouth to spill the beans when Grandma lightly touches his hand. That’s all it takes. Her silent signal for Grandpa to stop talking is known to all the Swifts. It’s kind of an inside family joke between my brothers and me.

  Every time we wanted to say shut up when we were kids, we’d slap each other’s hands, exaggerating our grandparents’ ability to have a wordless conversation.

  “I take it you had to cook for yourself after you were on your own, Sawyer,” Charlotte says. “I sort of had to early on too.”

  “For me, I grew to like cooking. I finally could eat whatever I wanted, and as much as I wanted.”

  “What was your specialty?” I say taking too big a bite.

  Turning his shoulders towards my chair, the corners of his mouth lift.

  “At the beginning it was Corney dogs. Ever heard of them?”

  “Corney dogs! I want one,” says Mallory.

  “It’s a Texas State Fair food.”

  Our faces are a mix of amusement and disgust. This is the polar opposite of Tennessee cooking.

  “A man can’t live on fair food. Did you expand your menu?” my mother asks.

  “Yes. I’ve become a pretty good cook.”

  “Birdie, give the boy your pie recipe,” Grandpa says. “It stays sweet on your lips like a woman’s kiss.”

  Then Sawyer looks at me. Oh God! Stop it! Well, maybe just a beat longer.

  A text message on my cell breaks the spell.

  Olivia Castro hospitalized.

  “I’ve got to take this. Excuse me,” I say getting up from the table.

  As I move into the kitchen, I hear Sawyer asking which way to the bathroom. Grabbing my purse off the club chair I start digging for my keys. Then I turn.

  Sawyer. He comes up behind me. Strong hands lift to my face. There’s no asking permission. I’m not at all mad at that.

  Soft full lips lightly touch mine. Hands find skin. A current races between us. Then, unable to resist any longer, I give in to the kiss. The room falls away. He cups the back of my head in his hand. Our tongues find each other, and I feel him take a fistful of my hair. His gentleness contradicting the passion it stirs.

  More. More. Take it all.

  We part, and he looks at me like he’s seeing my soul. Never felt this before.

  “That kiss is either going to kill me or set me free,” he whispers.

  Chapter 5

  Sawyer

  The front door closes behind Bristol. I’m left standing in the kitchen with a hard on and lingering memories of tender lips. Hers against mine. What now?

  The Swifts watched me walk right past the door to the bathroom when I followed Bristol. They must have noticed I didn’t go inside. A bathroom visit now should buy me time to get this thing to go down.

  Eyeing my jacket over the chair, I grab it and position it in front of The Cannon and make a dash for the bathroom. Don’t make eye contact!

  I sweep into the small room and shut the door. Was it my imagination or were there absolutely no conversations going on in there? Crap. I know they were watching and listening.

  A glance in the mirror turns into a long stare. Pink lipstick. It’s all over my mouth. Makes me smile at my own laughable image staring back. How do I get this off without leaving proof all over these nice towels? Fancy towels made for admiring, not using.

  Shit. There’s nothing else here. Toilet paper? I give it a shot. Too flimsy, and it doesn’t remove the stain. An idea emerges. I start stripping my pants off. This is genius. Sitting on the toilet, I remove my shoes. The pants drop, I step out and peel off my boxer briefs.

  Now I see what needs to be tamed. A half hard on. Okay. That’s better. The water’s turned on and I flush the toilet just so they all think I’m using the bathroom. I wet a corner of my jumbled briefs and work to remove the pink proof of our kissing session.

  Works great. Inspired really.

  As I redress, Bristol’s face is on my mind. Face, fingers, the way her body curved into mine. My dick takes a leap. Down boy. With one final glance in the mirror I see a man somehow changed. It’s a look both new and yet mysteriously recognizable. It’s fact. I’m different than when I arrived here today.

  Walking back into the dining room, I’m greeted by friendly faces and the all-seeing eyes of the Swifts. What else can I do but try to hold back the wide grin that wants to escape? It just confirms what they’ve already figured out. Something happened in the kitchen between their Bristol and me.

  “Did you kiss her?” Grandpa gets to the heart of things.

  No one stops his question or remarks on its bluntness. I don’t mind. Let every one of them know I’m interested.

  “We kissed each other.”

  A sound rises from the table. One I wasn’t expecting. Laughter and applause.

  Only Brick and Atticus refrain from joining the celebration. But their expressions tell me they’re not opposed. It releases any hold I had on my smile. Now it’s uncontainable.

  “Don’t tell her we did that!” Charlotte says chuckling.

  “Lord, no. We’d all be in trouble,” Lucinda adds. “And she’d redouble her efforts to avoid you.”

  I turn the imaginary lip lock and throw the key to the ground. “It’s in the circle of trust.”

  Taking my seat among the Swifts, I feel a new kind of comfort. A shared secret, which is warmth on another level.

  “You’re probably wondering why that deserved an applause,” Lucinda says.

  My nod and grin answer her question.

  “It’s simple,” Boone says. “Out of all of us Swifts, it's Bristol who’s the most independent. That’s saying a lot in this family.”

  “We value independence. It’s an admirable trait, no question. But it becomes a negative when you don’t leave room for the fun things in life,” says Lucinda.

  “I agree,” I say chuckling.

  “It’s rare to see my sister letting go a little. That’s all,” Brick says.

  “Listen, we want to invite you to one of our parties. The season starts in a couple of weeks, we’re going to celebrate even though we weren’t in the playoffs this year,” Boone add
s.

  “The team got their invitations a few days ago,” says Atticus.

  “Sounds like fun. I was thinking of asking Bristol to be my date. I’m just trying to pick the right time.”

  “Tick tock, man. You’re not the only one that’s going to ask. You need to beat the wrong man to the punch.” Brick brings the last bite of pie to his mouth.

  “I’ll ask tonight when I call her.”

  “You got her number? That’s a good sign.”

  “She gave it to me at the bowling alley when I got injured. Said I could call if I had any questions, so technically I’m following instructions.”

  “That’s very unlike Bristol. Think you made an impression,” says January.

  “So honey, tell us how you see yourself in five years. What does your life look like then?” asks Grandma Birdie.

  Grandpa isn’t the only one who gets to the point. His wife holds her own in that department.

  “Hopefully I’ll still be playing ball. And a family. I’d have a few kids by then. Just to start.”

  What’s this look I’m getting? Something I said hit a roadblock. But the expressions quickly change. No one holds their initial reaction. It fades behind their eyes as quickly as it came.

  “That’s wonderful, Sawyer,” Charlotte says. “I can tell you from experience it’s one of the most fulfilling experiences in life.”

  Boone angles his chair and stretches his legs out in front of him. “Funny thing about life. Sometimes the road less traveled leads to your greatest happiness.”

  He takes his Lucinda’s hand and looks in her eyes.

  “She was my secret path.”

  My condo looks like a fourteen-year-old boy’s wet dream. For the first time I’m aware of that. A man’s toys don’t differ much from what he wished for in his youth. Mine are everywhere. Making big money for the first time has made a spender of me.

  My minor shoulder injury ended up working in my favor. Not being able to finish my season made it possible for me to make my move to Tennessee a little earlier. Ahead of the start of my new contract.

  But the free time had its mixed blessings. I was able to watch up close the dynamics of the Mavericks and get to know the men. That’s in the plus column. Not having control over my buying impulses are in the negative.

  Just this first few months in Memphis I’ve spent thousands. Appliances, furniture. But I had to get a bed and the minimum amount of house staples to be able to live comfortably. That morphed into the more entertaining purchases. Workout equipment . . . a double-wide recliner to nap and play games and the holy mother of all toys, the one-hundred-inch flatscreens hung in the living room and bedroom.

  Caps are tossed on most surfaces. And half the time I don’t make it to the bedroom before my shoes are kicked off. Now that I look at it, I’m kind of a slob. No. Correction. Clean but messy.

  When I picture bringing Bristol here the place fails miserably. For a million-dollar property it should at least be presentable. It wouldn’t be smart to bring a woman like her to a boy’s playground.

  Maybe the housekeeper needs to come more often. It pained me to hire Blanca in the first place. I don’t like people touching my shit. I like to know I can find it where I left it. But this is out of hand. I’ll call her tomorrow and book her once a week.

  As I pass the coffee table, I toss the keys and they slide across and hit the pile of mail stacked haphazardly. It shivers but stays upright. Call her.

  The words play in my head. I’ll just grab a Coke. Call her.

  Maybe when I get in the bedroom. Naked me would be primed for the sound of her voice. Call her.

  Just to shut myself up, I grab my cell from my pocket. Scrolling through my contacts, I tap her name.

  I need to use the bathroom. My roommate in Fort Worth used to call the phenomenon “the instants.”

  “Hello?” she says softly.

  “Hi. It’s me.”

  “Who’s me?”

  “The guy that just kissed you an hour ago.”

  “Oh, that guy.”

  I’m smiling like a teenager. Think she is too. I head for the bedroom.

  “How come you’re not at the hospital?”

  “I’ve been and gone. So how did the rest of the meal go? Did you get the Swift treatment?”

  “Don’t know what you mean. We had dessert and then I left.”

  “Uh huh. Sure. Just so you know, my parents, my grandparents, my siblings and their wives, all busybodies. They don’t speak for me.”

  I flop down on top of my bed.

  “Maybe they just care.”

  She’s silent for a moment. So am I.

  “I was thinking about the way you kissed me and I wondered if you’d like to do it again?” I say breaking the quiet.

  “I kissed you? Think you’ve got that twisted. Pretty sure it was your advance.”

  “Maybe. But you kissed back. I’m certain of that.”

  A little giggle escapes her lips. Remember that sound when I get to heaven, God. I’d like to be greeted by it.

  “Your parents’ Spring Nights Party. I’d love for you to be my date. Proper like. We wear something fancy, I pick you up and we get to know each other a little better. What do you think? Shall we begin?”

  There are a few moments of silence before she speaks.

  “I do like the way you talk. I like what I see. And yes Sawyer, you’re fine. But I want you to know I’d mostly be doing this to get my family off my case. If you’re agreeable to that then my answer is yes.”

  “I’m agreeable. But I have a request too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Tell me about the other reason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said mostly. You’re mostly doing this because of your family. What’s the other reason? That’s the only one I’m interested in.”

  “I recognize a kindred spirit. Our conversation flows and there’s not been a moment where I’m searching for something to say. Think we could become friends.”

  “That’s a good place to start. But I’m not really aiming for friendship. I see you in a different light. In fact, there’s light all around you.”

  A tiny intake of her breath is all I hear. I’m not going to speak until she does. Silence sits between us for a good five seconds.

  “Light?”

  “Yes. It got my attention the first time I saw you.”

  “Oh my,” she sighs.

  “You can think your way around this, Bristol. Or you can feel your way through.”

  Her voice softens. “That’s not my way.”

  I feel the intimacy of her words.

  “I can tell. But I think it’s because you’re so intelligent. You like to dissect everything. From a guy with a high school education, I admire that.”

  “You could have fooled me. Your vocabulary alone.”

  “I’m a voracious reader. My mom liked to read. At least that’s how I’ve imagined her. I remember one thick book in our house used to balance a table. It was Gone with the Wind.”

  “Oh. That’s the connection.”

  We talk for another two-and-a-half hours. Time passes out of normal confines. I’m only conscious of the hour because of the position of the moon which I can see from the bed. And as the moon rises and night falls so do our defenses. They all come down. Neither of us pretending to be anything other than our authentic selves.

  Naturally and with ease, we have our first real conversation. The kind where information flows back and forth between two people in a kind of slow dance. I talk and she listens. She talks and I listen.

  The woman charms the pants off me. Literally and figuratively.

  An hour ago I shed my clothes and climbed in my big empty bed. Her company on the phone filled the space next to me. It almost felt like we were facing each other whispering some of the stories of our lives.

  Soft sounds good on her. And the fact she never leads with it makes it more appealing. It feels great that she’s s
howing it to me tonight.

  “I guess I need to get to sleep,” she says. “I’ve got to get up at five to go running.”

  “What if you skip it so we can talk a little longer now?”

  “As lovely as that sounds, it’s my schedule. I never veer from it. But I admit you tempt me.”

  “That’s all a man can hope for. And Bristol?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re my temptation too.”

  Chapter 6

  Bristol

  Plot twist. That’s how I feel about Sawyer and his effect. In a matter of weeks he’s changed the direction of my well-planned story. I haven’t told him that. But hiding it from myself is an impossibility. And the entire thing has happened because of our phone conversations. He hasn’t pushed and I like that.

  Daily, nightly and sometimes through into the next day. We are talkers. I’m sure he’s always been, but for me it’s new. Never have I revealed so much about myself. For some reason it’s felt right.

  Walking toward the elevator to the Swift suite it strikes me this is my first trip to the ballpark since game four of the series last year. The family joke was that my presence lost the series for the Mavericks. The baseball god was so shocked to see me he looked away for a moment.

  My cell rings.

  “Hello, Sawyer.”

  “I’m sneaking a minute to talk to you. Are you here?”

  “I’m getting in the elevator now.”

  “Okay, good. I’m a little nervous for some reason. Think I want to impress the girl I like.”

  My stomach does a flip. I feel fourteen.

  “Just want to confirm tonight,” he adds. “It’s our first official date. Oh! Got to go. We’ll talk after the game.”

  He disconnects as I enter the elevator.

  All the way up I’m trying to guess where he’ll take me. I need to find out how to dress. If it’s a dinner at that restaurant he told me about, I’m going to wear my new black heels with the sexy cut outs.

  The door opens to game day Swift style. Spreads of delicious food, a well-stacked bar, binoculars for everyone.