Chapter
Forty-Four
Sawyer
Talia:
Can you come to dinner next Friday?
Sawyer:
Sure, that should be good! Soren is busy, but I’ll be there. Can’t wait to see my Ava girl and her parents, of course. *winky face*
All I could smell was Soren as I shut his bedroom door. It was masculine with a touch of spearmint. His room mirrored the rest of his house, tidy and minimal, but his bedroom had a darker vibe. A California king-size, four-poster bed in dark wood sat in the middle of the room. On either side were framed antique maps, and his bed had a navy comforter. I wondered absentmindedly if Landry, Jonah’s sister, had designed this room as well. Soren had said that she enjoyed interior design and had helped with his remodel. She certainly had a knack for creating beautiful spaces.
Soren had laid out clothes on the bed, along with a towel. I collected those and went toward his bathroom to shower. I noted the spearmint toothpaste and spearmint body wash, which explained everything. After washing the grime from helping all day with sorting cattle, I dried off and folded the sweat pants multiple times over to get them to stay up. I typically spent Sundays with Soren, but after our first kiss last Sunday, I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I wanted to be around him. I had come a day early and helped him sort cattle, which fundamentally meant I watched Soren and six ranch hands sort cattle. I didn’t know what I was doing yet, but I was willing to learn. The guys could call out markings on a particular calf or cow, and it was as if they moved as a unit until it was separated to where it needed to be. I had gotten filthy after shadowing Soren on the ranch all day. The t-shirt he gave me hit me mid-thigh, but I loved wearing his clothes. My hairbrush was in my bag in the family room. I towel-dried my hair as much as I could. When I walked back through the bedroom, that was when I noticed it. On his dresser sat a large aquamarine-tinted glass mason jar and inside were small slips of folded paper. I knew I shouldn’t be snooping, and it was none of my business, but there was something about it that pulled at me like a moth to a flame. As I walked closer, I realized these were exactly the same as the slip of paper I had pulled out of his hoodie pocket the first day we met. I tipped my head to peer closer. They were all written in the same pattern as before but the numbers were different on each one.
2954 1
2987 1
“Everyone knows that 2987 is greater than 1,” I whispered to myself. What did this mean? I reached to touch the jar when a voice came through the door.
“Hey, Pretty Girl. I’m making grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with pasta salad. Is that okay with you?” My heart raced in fear that I was almost caught, caught doing what, I wasn’t sure.
“Sounds good,” I called as I walked to open the door.
Soren had his arms braced above his head on the door frame and my heart caught in my throat. He was the most attractive man I had ever seen, and I had butterflies in my belly. His hazel eyes slowly trailed down my body before coming back up to reach my eyes. Heat ignited in all the places his eyes touched. There was something about the way that he looked at me that I never wanted him to look away. His white tee was taut over his chest, with his arms raised. There was a tiny sliver of his taut lower abdomen showing, and I wanted to run my finger across that skin. My face flushed at the thought.
“I like the way you look in my shirt,” He says, biting the corner of his lip. A grin tugged at his mouth. I blushed and rolled the hem of his shirt between my fingers.
“Come on, Pretty Girl.”
He reached for my hand and tugged me toward the kitchen where I sat on the counter while he made our grilled ham and cheese. No matter how distracted I got in the ease of conversation, I couldn’t forget about the jar all throughout dinner. After eating the best grilled ham and cheese I’ve ever had, we settled on the couch where Soren said he’d brush out my hair for me. I sat in front of him on the ottoman while he sat on the edge of the couch, brushing out the tangles in my hair. I knew I had to ask him about the jar and what it meant if I wanted to sleep tonight.
“Soren.”
“Hmm.” He was thoroughly distracted, running his hand through my hair as he brushed it out.
“When I was in your room earlier, I saw a jar with papers in it. What is that?”
He immediately stopped brushing my hair, and his hands landed on his thighs with a thud. I felt uneasy, but he had always made me feel comfortable talking to him about hard things and I was committed to being as straightforward with him as I could be. He’d given me space to be me. He sat quietly, and when I turned, his eyes were tortured. I wanted to give him an out, but I equally wanted to know what was going on.