Chapter 25
Sawyer
In my whole two weekends of experience, I’ve already decided I dislike condoms.
They’re messy and a pain in the ass.
But worth the hassle to get to bury myself in her tight little pussy as often as I want.
Huh. Hardly. Fridays and Saturdays.
That’s it. That’s the rule.
Except lying here with her cuddled against my chest, feeling her even breathing as she sleeps, I don’t want it to be only two days at a time.
I just have no idea how to change her mind.
And there’s moments later in the day, as we’re hustling around each other in the kitchen, I want to be able to just grab her and kiss her.
Knowing I only get her for these brief interludes makes it bittersweet.
I really shouldn’t bitch. I have a hot older woman who wants tons of sex.
Any guy in my position would be jealous as shit of me.
Until Sunday morning hits.
“Are you sure I can’t take you out for lunch or something?” I almost feel guilty asking the questions, like I’m crossing some sort of invisible line.
“I appreciate the offer.” Her mouth droops in the corner in a partial frown. “But I have plans this afternoon. Then tomorrow is just shopping to restock, nothing exciting.” Her fingers trail through my hair before she presses her lips to my forehead. “It’ll make Friday all the better.”
A flair of jealousy rushes through me.
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” I choke out, digging for my underwear from the floor.
“Of course not. I just don’t want—” She waves her hand with a sigh. “—feelings to get in the way of us enjoying ourselves.”
My nose wrinkles at her dismissal. For some reason she has no problem screaming my name ten times in a night, but can’t admit she might even like me?
When all I want to do is worship her.
The whole drive home, all I can dwell on is how much I wish I was still there with her.
“Hi, honey. What’s the matter?” Grandma blinks at me through the thick lenses of her glasses from the couch.
Ben nuzzles her wrinkled neck in his sleep, making her pat his diapered butt gently.
“Nothing.” I slump next to her on the cushions and let out a long yawn.
Grandma reaches out and her palm bounces off my knee in the same soft touch she just soothed my baby brother. “I think I know. Girl problems?”
I’m really not sure if she’s being serious or teasing. But I sit back, letting my head fall to stare at the ceiling. “How did you know Grandpa was the one?”
Her low laugh tells me there’s a story there.
“He wanted nothing to do with me.” She tips her head to look over the rims of her glasses.
“He was quite handsome and fancied himself a playboy.” Her amber eyes roll with a bemused smirk.
“So I used a little reverse psychology and ignored him. Drove him wild.”
I find that so hard to believe. Grandpa dotes on her like she’s the center of the universe.
“How long did it take to convince him?” I’m curious now.
“Oh, a little while.” She readjusts the sleeping infant to turn more towards me. “At first he tried to act like it didn’t bother him. But I made sure he saw me having fun without him, and before I knew it, he was hooked.”
“That’s all it took?” I’m not sure this would work on Val.
It’s not like I see her outside of the bar anyway.
“And a good biscuit recipe,” she giggles quietly. “Fastest way to a man’s heart and all. In fact, I told your mom that trick when her and your father were dating.”
There’s no way I’ll woo Val with pizza. I know she almost gets sick of being around it most weeks.
“Great. Thanks for the advice, Grandma.” I push up off the couch and head to my room.
“Sawyer?” she calls after me, making me stop in the hall. “Be patient. She has a lot on her plate.”
With a reluctant sigh, I nod.
I can’t help but want to be in a hurry.
Val is everything I want, I just need a chance to show her I can be that for her, too.
It doesn’t take long to change clothes. I know Dad has a whole ass list of shit I need to do, he always does.
Oh man. The worst one, cleaning out stalls.
This is gonna take all week and it always makes me stink.
Not like it matters. I won’t see Val again until Friday.
I don’t think I’ll even bother texting. It makes my chest hurt knowing she won’t reply.
When shoveling shit, the only rule is to keep my mouth shut.
At least when it’s this cold, it doesn’t tend to splatter as much. The tractor gets the brunt of it, but I still have to pull everything out of the corners.
It’s hard not to feel a little salty about the fact that I’m cleaning up all of Char and Dixon’s horses too.
But the last time I complained about it to Dad, he made that face at me and told me they’re family.
That was it. End of discussion.
I understand, but it doesn’t make it pleasant.
“Sawyer?” Char appears near the main bay door as I’m backing up the John Deere.
Lurching to a stop, some of the straw tumbles from the lip of the bucket.
“I brought you a hot cocoa. I appreciate you doing this.” She hands me up a small thermos.
“Aww, thanks.” I reach over the giant back tire to grab it.
Maybe it’s not so bad doing some of these chores?
“I have some zucchini bread in the oven too, I’ll bring you a loaf later.
It’s out of the garden that you helped—” She points to the overflowing load of horse shit.
“—to make. I saw you out here all day yesterday, too. You work hard, it’s noticed.
” Giving me a broad smile, she turns in the snow and follows her tracks back up to her house.
Her and Lori have bonded over how many veggies that they can grow.
I know April is starting to get into it, too. Most of the summer they were out there with Libby, plucking and pruning, then hanging out in the kitchen to get everything processed.
The whole dynamic of the house sure has changed a lot the last couple of years.
It used to be so quiet, just me, Sophia, and Dad.
Now, I can hear Grandpa snoring through the walls, the babies crying from the living room, and the kitchen is always full of people tag-teaming to cook for everyone.
Sometimes I miss the silence.
No, I don’t mind listening to Val when she’s sleeping. Every once and while she gets restless though, like she’s having a bad dream.
I like that when I wrap my arms around her, it settles her down.
Why can’t I do that every night?
It almost makes me sick to my stomach to think about how badly I want that.
Or maybe I’m just hungry. Is it lunchtime yet?
Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I nearly drop it when I see a missed call from her.
With my heart in my throat, I immediately hit the redial.
I hope she’s okay.