Chapter Fourteen
W hen she pulled her door open, his heart damn near stopped. Her robe gapped open at the top revealing more of her than he was sure she meant for him to see. Her long legs below the hem were bare, which made him immediately wonder if she had anything at all on beneath the blue-and-white polka dot terrycloth robe. But what really stunned him was her tear-stained face and trembling full lips. Distressed Anna made his heart ache. Instinct took over and he tugged her into his arms.
“Shh,” he soothed. “It’s okay.”
She smelled like lilacs and was taut with frustration. Although she didn’t return the embrace, she did rest her forehead on his shoulder for a moment and took several deep breaths, clearly trying to pull herself together. “Listen to this,” she said as she stepped away.
A completely unnecessary command. He’d heard the dog whimpering before she’d even opened the door.
“What do I do?” Much to his disappointment, she suddenly became aware of her dishevelment and tugged the edges of the robe together, retying the sash and squaring her shoulders. Then she jerked her head toward the hallway. “Come on.”
She led the way to one of the most elegant bedrooms he’d ever seen. In all his fantasies about Anna Walker’s bedroom, this graceful room had never played a part. He’d always pictured bright colors and a modern design, but this room belonged on the pages of a decorating magazine. A big four-poster bed layered with cream and soft peachy covers, throws, and pillows centered the space, which was carpeted in a deep-pile white rug. White bedside tables held matching stained-glass lamps, and a giant cushy easy chair with an ottoman to match upholstered in cream and coral sat in an alcove by the window. In the corner by the closet, stood a tall mirror mounted on four feet. Prints of flowers decorated the walls, which were painted the palest shade of peach. Most interesting of all, an antique chandelier hung above the bed.
He was so taken aback by the room that Anna had to nudge him in the door. With a shake of his head, he turned toward the sound of the puppy whimpering. There in the corner was Trixie’s crate on top of an unsightly folded gray tarp that struck an incredibly discordant note.
“She hates me. She hates it here.” Anna sniffed and yanked a tissue out of her pocket. “I did everything it said to do in the videos. I introduced her to her space. She’s got her fuzzy blankie from the clinic. I petted her and talked to her”—she threw her hands up in clear despair—“I suck.”
Sawyer brought his whole attention around to the puppy. “This is perfectly normal. She cried the first few nights at the clinic. Less each night,” he added at her horrified expression. Reaching in, he pulled out both Trixie and her blanket. He couldn’t decide who looked more exhausted, the woman or the dog. He swaddled the puppy in the blanket and handed her to Anna. “Just hold her next to your heart for a few minutes and pet her. Reassure her.”
“I tried—” She closed her lips at his head shake, and with a sigh, cuddled the puppy close to her chest, the blanket wrapped around her little body.
He itched to take a picture of them as she swayed and murmured and rubbed her cheek on Trixie’s head. Anna looked beautiful, her mass of golden hair clipped up on her head, her eyes closed, her voice soft.
In a few minutes, the dog quieted, and Anna gave him a look of relief. “Maybe she’ll be okay now?” she whispered.
“I can’t promise you she won’t start crying again, but I imagine she’ll sleep for a while. She’s tired. Do you have a smart speaker?” Sawyer asked, looking around, but seeing nothing that looked like an Alexa.
“I’ve avoided that despite my brothers pushing.” Anna kept her voice low and crooning as she continued to stroke Trixie.
“An iPad?” He wanted a music app—something he could tune to soft quiet sounds.
“On the table in the kitchen. I’ll get it.” She started toward the door, but he put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, let me. You stay here with her. We want her to know this is her sleeping place. If you leave with her, she’ll get confused.”
He found the tablet right where she’d said it would be, noting as he went through to the kitchen that a second bedroom served as an office. There was another full bath, and a galley-style kitchen with white cabinets and stainless appliances that opened to an eating area leading directly to the main room of the condo in a circular layout. Her living room was huge with a soaring ceiling, and the furniture was the complete opposite of her bedroom—looking more like an English or French country house than an elegant New York apartment. He longed to stop and explore the myriad photographs that filled one wall in the hallway, but he needed to get back to Anna and Trixie.
He held the iPad up for her to open with face recognition and then found Pandora and searched for Lo-Fi . “This is what I listen to while I’m writing.” The soft music sounded like rain with a heartbeat underneath it. “Put her in her crate now.”
The tarp crinkled when they stepped on it, but Trixie didn’t react. Nor did she object to being put in the crate. No doubt the poor critter was just done. She turned around a couple of times and dug at the blanket and then dropped down and tucked her head under it. Sawyer put the iPad on a shelf in the nearby built-in bookcase, set the volume just loud enough to be heard, and held a hand out to Anna to lead her away. They stood together in the doorway, waiting. After a moment or two, they backed out but left the door open.
“Like I said, no guarantees,” Sawyer said as the reached the living room.
Anna closed her eyes and dropped her head back for a few seconds before blowing out a breath. “Thank you. I’m sorry for the distress call, but I just couldn’t bear her crying. It breaks my heart.”
“Yeah, don’t think she doesn’t know that.” He hoped she’d invite him to stay, maybe have a drink, but so far they merely stood a little bit awkwardly in the dim tiled foyer of her condo.
Anna drew the sides of her robe closer. “She’s going to try to play me, isn’t she?”
“Yup.” He grinned. “You just have to establish who the alpha is.”
She frowned, crossed her arms over her flat belly, and seemed to shrink into herself a bit—a surprise because as far as he knew, Annabelle Walker didn’t shrink from anything. She was bold and strong. “I don’t know about this, Sawyer. I’m not sure I’m meant to be an alpha to anyone or anything.”
Gently, he grasped her shoulders. “You kidding me? I know I don’t know you well, yet, but I think you’re likely all alpha in everything you do, including fostering three pounds of fur and ears. You got this.”
With an effort, he kept his eyes glued to her face, but the expanse of peachy throat and collarbone exposed in the V of her robe sent a frisson of heat through him. It would be so easy to take her in his arms, to use her vulnerability to show her what she did to him. And she might well respond with the same fervor she’d shown outside the tavern a couple of nights ago, but she’d hate him later for using her fragility, and he’d hate himself. He gave her shoulders a squeeze, dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, and opened the front door. “Get some rest. Call me if you need me.”
*
After he closed the door quietly behind him, Annabelle listened, hoping he’d turn around, but the hotel-quality carpet in the hallway muffled the sound of his footsteps. She didn’t hear the elevator ding, but she couldn’t see that far down the hall from her peephole. Maybe he took the stairs. She put her fingers to the place on her forehead where his lips had touched. Her skin was cool. Surprising. It should’ve been hot, because inside she burned with hunger for Sawyer Braxton.
She couldn’t even watch him leave—her condo faced the river, and he’d surely take the front door that was off Second Street. She clasped her hands together and paced the length of the living room before opening the sliding door and stepping out onto the balcony. Aidan Flaherty’s brightly lit showboat, the River Queen , chugged up the river. He must’ve been doing a trial run with the tugboat—the shows weren’t due to start until the end of May.
Call me if you need me.
She reached in the pocket of her robe and fingered her phone.
Call me if you need me.
Pulling it out, she scrolled to the text she’d sent him earlier, started to type, paused, typed a few more letters, then hit the Delete key until everything disappeared. Not a text—not a tacky booty-call kind of text. But oh, how she wanted him to come back. To take her in his arms again. To kiss her like he did on Saturday night. That night, they’d parted ways with a wave and smile after Hugh closed the double H. Not so much as a goodnight kiss. Almost as if neither of them was ready to take another step forward.
Clouds drifted across the moon that had risen over the river, but it wasn’t raining—not yet. He’d been out of breath when he arrived, which told her he’d walked, maybe even run, from…where? Mac’s maybe? He ate supper there almost every night according to Carly, who mentioned it when they’d run into each other at Barker’s Hardware. Anna was buying a tarp. Carly was looking for new sticky-back hooks for aprons in the diner.
Thunder rumbled, distant and deep, in the Kentucky hills across the river. Maybe the storm would pass them by. She tapped her dark phone screen to bring it back to life and hit the Phone link on the text thread she shared with Sawyer.
“Anna?” The breeze hissed in the phone as he answered.
She swallowed. Hard. “I need you.”
“Three minutes.” And he disconnected.
Anna’s heart rose to her throat. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ever initiated intimacy before. She was thirty-eight years old and had dated a lot of men. However, she’d slept with very few and never so quickly after meeting someone. But the look in his eye when he said goodnight told her quite clearly that he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her. That walking out the door was the last thing on earth he wanted to do.
It was less than three minutes when her buzzer sounded. She pressed the button by the door and waited for the knock, suddenly aware that she had on no makeup, her hair was clipped up, and she was wearing only her bathrobe. The stairway door banged. Too late now. She opened the door just a crack to keep him from knocking and waking up Trixie and watched as he stopped by the elevator long enough to run his fingers through his hair, straighten his shirt collar, and cup his hands around his mouth and nose.
She pushed the door open farther and leaned against the doorjamb, smiling when Sawyer looked up and saw her. He was beside her in just a few long strides. He stopped within a foot of her, and she reached out and grabbed his shirtfront. If it was possible to spark a fire just from the touch of one another’s lips, they should have spontaneously combusted.
Mouths fused, he backed her into the entryway and shoved the door shut with his butt. She leaned into him, wanting, needing to feel his entire length against her—every muscle, hard plane, and bone. He turned and suddenly the door was cold against her back, and he’d placed both hands on the door on either side of her head, his lips exploring her cheek, her ear, her neck, and with each touch she felt a desire she’d never felt before. Ever. Not just a physical hunger, but a heart longing.
He pulled away and framed her face with his hands, a signature move that turned her knees to jelly. His eyes gleamed dark brown with emotion. “You sure?”
Sure? Is he kidding? Desire pooled in her belly, and she turned her face to press a kiss into his hand. “I’m sure.”
He kissed her again, deep and hungry and then slower, easier—cherishing her with each touch of his lips. When he pulled away, his eyes were troubled. “I don’t… I don’t have any protection.”
Anna smiled. “Me either. We’ll figure it out.” She shoved away from the door, took his hand, and led him back to the bedroom, pressing one finger to her lips as they tiptoed in. “We have to be very, very quiet,” she murmured and dropped her robe on the floor.
*
Whimpering sounds from the corner brought Annabelle’s eyes wide open, and for a moment, she couldn’t fathom what the noise was and whose arm was wrapped around her. She glanced over her shoulder, and it all came back in a whoosh of heat and hunger.
Sawyer.
She blinked and turned her head away on the pillow, careful not to move too suddenly and wake him. Trixie stood at the door of her crate, her little face pressed against the grid and the blanket bunched up around her. When the puppy caught Anna’s eye, she gave a short sharp bark, and Sawyer started. “What the…” His voice was deep and husky with sleep.
Anna turned away from the dog and faced the tousled man lying next to her in a rumple of sheets. “Hi.”
“God, I fell asleep. I’m sorry.” He stroked her cheek. “What time is it?”
“Not six yet. My alarm hasn’t gone off.” Anna reached down for her robe, abandoned on the floor hours ago, and found her phone in the pocket. When she turned back to him, the sheet fell away. His heavy-lidded gaze made heat fill her cheeks as the memory of the night they’d shared came back with dizzying accuracy. Even though they hadn’t actually… Her cheeks burned even hotter. They’d explored every inch of each other’s bodies. Sawyer had found every place that made her suck in a breath or gasp with ecstasy, and she’d done the same for him. It was a little late to be blushing. “Five forty-five.”
He tugged the sheet down farther and stroked his fingers over the reddened skin of her collarbone and then her abdomen, then picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Beard burn,” he murmured and his lips on her skin made her shiver.
She slid down to press her body against his hard chest. “I’ll heal.”
“I don’t plan on giving you that opportunity.” He rose over her. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He mimicked Bogart and made her giggle.
“Where’d you get that scar, Bogey?” She traced the thin white line on his cheek.
He pressed into her, nuzzling her neck, and still in Bogey mode, said, “It was a knife fight, see? Coupla thugs came after me in an alley and—” He stopped at her laughter. “No?”
“Try again.” She tried to compose herself but couldn’t stop snickering at his impression.
“Huck and I were wrestling.” He confessed with a wry smile. “I bumped a table and brought an antique French vase down on our heads. Sixteen stitches for me, ten for him on the back of his head, and we had to give Mom all our summer mowing money, which I’m certain didn’t even begin to cover the value of the vase.” He went for another kiss. “Now where was I?”
But Trixie barked again. Anna sighed. “I think she might need to go outside.”
He rolled his eyes and kissed her quickly, started to sit up, then came back and kissed her again with intention, his lips hot and urgent.
She looped her arms around his neck and lay back, but the dog whimpered. “Sawyer, I don’t want her to mess up her crate.”
He kissed down her cheek to her neck and lower. “She won’t.”
She’d just dropped her head back to grant him access, when Trixie let out another bark. Anna groaned, took his face between her hands, and pulled him away from her. “Are you willing to clean it up if you’re wrong?”
He grinned. “Nope. Your dog, your mess.”
She put both hands on his chest and pushed. “I’m coming, Trixie. Hold on.” Slipping from his arms, she dashed into the closet, where she yanked on old sweatpants, a tank top, and a tattered Weaver’s Landing Marina hoodie. When she came out, Sawyer was out of bed and had taken Trixie from of her crate and harnessed and leashed her. Anna stopped short in the doorway to stare at him. He stood there in his tight knit boxers, masculine, and completely unselfconscious as he cuddled the little puppy. “Now there’s a picture for the next Year of Veterinarians calendar.”
Sawyer laughed and set the dog down. “There’s a calendar? Like the firefighters’ one?”
Anna dropped a kiss on his lips as she took Trixie’s leash from him. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
He reached for her hand, keeping her next to him. “Her crate is clean. She made it through the night.”
Anna bent down and petted the puppy. “What a good girl, Trixie.” Leading the little dog toward the door, she paused. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.” She raked her gaze over him. “Don’t change a thing.”
Suddenly, he blushed, dull red rising from his neck into his stubble-shadowed cheeks and he dipped his head almost shyly. “I’ve got to get home, shower, and check on Otis. He’ll need breakfast, plus I have surgery at seven.”
Her heart dropped; she’d hoped maybe they could spend a little more time together before she had to go up to the Yoshida mansion and help wherever she was needed most.
He came to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Will you have dinner with me tonight? A real date where I shave and come and pick you up and you get all dressed up and we go someplace where there’s dancing and wine?”
“So, we’re dating ?” Trixie was winding around her feet, but Anna needed to give what had happened the night before a name.
“That’s been my goal from the first moment I saw you up in the meadow.” He cupped her chin and kissed her. “If you’re okay with it, we’re dating.” Then he turned her around and gave her a gentle little push. “Get that poor creature outside before you have a mess to clean up.”
An unfamiliar wash of joy surged through her, and she smiled so big, her cheeks ached. It had been too long since she’d felt so free, so happy, so glad to be with a man. She started down the hallway.
“Hey?” He stood in the bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest, gloriously and sexily male. “Pick you up at seven?”
She pointed and winked. “Only if you promise to come dressed just like that.”