Chapter Eleven
“T ommy! Dude! Open up!” A deep voice outside his apartment and loud pounding on the door yanked Sawyer out of a beautiful, but weird, dream where he and Anna were on a raft on the Ohio River. He was in ragged jeans and a T-shirt, and she was clad in a bikini that showed off a lot of glorious soft peachy skin. The raft was made of shaved logs tied together with multicolored nylon dog leashes—the kind that were retractable, so the logs kept separating just as he reached out for Anna. Disoriented, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and yanked a pair of sweats over his knit boxers.
The dream was so vivid, he was slightly off-balance as if he were still trying to steady the raft. He raked his fingers through his hair and blinked sleepily. “I’m coming,” he growled crossly. “Hold your horses!” Dream Anna, tall, lithe, and tanned and keeping her equilibrium perfectly on the makeshift boat stayed in the foggy part of his brain. “What do you think of that one, Sigmund?” he muttered as he unlocked the door to find Huck standing on the landing with Otis sitting behind him.
“’Bout time. Don’t you have to be at work this morning?” Huck yanked the wooden storm door open as soon as Sawyer unhooked it. He stepped inside and then jerked a thumb over his shoulder and commanded, “Otis, come.”
The basset hound rose stiffly and without so much as a glance at Sawyer, walked into the apartment and plopped down on the rug in the small entry area, looking around, almost as if to say, Okay, I’m here. Now what?
Sawyer stooped, taking Otis’s face in both hands to scratch his chin. “So glad to see you, too, buddy.” He stared into his dark eyes and scratched under his long floppy ears. “Did you miss me? I sure missed you.” The dog looked older. Had his muzzle gotten more white hair in the couple of weeks since he’d left?
Otis woofed, a deep gravelly sound.
“Yeah, you missed me, old man.” Sawyer continued to stroke and nuzzle the dog. Then he popped up and pulled Huck into a hug. “Good to see you, too, bro.”
Huck chuckled as he returned the embrace. “That is the laziest damn dog in the whole world. Got any coffee?”
Sawyer yawned and stretched. “Not yet, but I can make you a cup. Hungry?”
“Not if you’re cooking.” Huck wandered around the small apartment, peering into the bedroom with its en suite bathroom and opening closet doors. “Nice place, Tom. Compact.” Huck came back into the living room.
It warmed Sawyer’s heart to hear his brother use his nickname again—Tom. No one in River’s Edge called him Tom, which came naturally enough from his real name, Sawyer, but why would they? Only Huck called him Tom. Huck and Tom —it had been their thing since their mother had read Tom Sawyer aloud to them when they were boys.
“My landlord owns the local diner. Let me grab a shower and I’ll take you to breakfast.”
“What about the clinic?”
“John’s doing clinic this morning, so I’m off until Monday.” He headed for the kitchen to fill the Keurig tank and get a cup of coffee going. “Well, sort of. I’m on call this weekend.”
“Vets are on call?” Huck ambled back, pulled out a barstool, and plopped down. “Black, one sugar.”
“Animals have emergencies, too.” Huck dumped a spoonful of sugar in the cup and set it in front of Huck. “How are you? How are the folks? It’s been a few days since I’ve heard from them.”
“Everybody’s good. Mom and Dad are in DC at a conference—Dad’s doing the keynote. They’re meeting Pheebs and Kate there. Pheebs is testifying before Congress—something about kids and cancer. Mom and Dad plan to be in the gallery with Kate to cheer her on.”
Huck relayed all the information casually as if being the keynote speaker at an international psychiatry conference or testifying before Congress was just everyday stuff. For his family, Sawyer supposed it was. His parents, his oncologist sister and her wife, Kate, who was a pediatrician, were extraordinary people, and he was justifiably proud of them, but their vast accomplishments exhausted him. “How you doin’?”
“I’m good.” Huck sipped his coffee. “Random House wants my Tecumseh novel. Assigned me an editor this past week.”
Sawyer’s heart soared for his older brother, who had been working on the novel about the famous Indiana indigenous chief for at least two years. “Huck, that’s amazing! You should’ve led with that, dude!”
Huck shrugged and waved away the compliment. “Took me long enough to write the damn thing.” But his high color revealed how pleased he was to share his news.
“I’m so proud of you.” Sawyer meant it with all his heart. His big brother was a wonderful professor and a great writer. “I get the first autographed copy, right?” He rounded the end of the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room and practically tripped over Otis who’d gone from sitting to lying on his side. He stooped down again. “Okay, lazy, the party’s over. After Uncle Huck and I get back, you’re going for a walk.”
“He doesn’t do walks,” Huck said. “And don’t refer to me as Uncle Huck to that old fart. He and I barely tolerated each other for two and a half weeks. He’s as happy to be rid of me as I am to return him.”
“Did you take him on a walk at all, Huck?” Sawyer lifted Otis’s paws one by one and then checked his ears and eyes.
“I let him out in the backyard and told him to run.” Huck held both hands up in a what could I do gesture. “That grad student of yours, Myles whatever, came by and took him for a quick jaunt around campus a couple times. Otherwise”—he nodded toward Otis—“that was his position of choice. By the way, he hates those damn glucosamine treats.”
“You have to put them in cheese.”
Huck’s eyes widened. “Is that why you gave me that package of cheese? I thought you were cleaning out your fridge. I ate it.”
“It was for him , goofball. I wrote it on the instructions list. He has arthritis; he needs to move,” Sawyer scolded. “Don’t you, boy? Gotta move those old joints.” He stood up and pointed to Huck. “I’ll get changed and take you for the best blueberry pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”
“While you do that, I’ll go downstairs and get the dog paraphernalia out of my trunk.” He took another sip of coffee before sliding off the barstool. “But you can carry that hundred-pound bag of dog food, which smells like hell by the way.”
Sawyer laughed. “It’s only about forty pounds and it doesn’t smell bad at all.”
“Says you.” Huck let the storm door slam behind him as he left, his heavy tread thumping on the wooden steps.
Thirty minutes later, Sawyer led Huck into the Riverside Diner, where the heavenly scents of bacon and sausage and fresh-brewed coffee drifted to them as he opened the door.
Mac Mackenzie leaned into the service window between the diner and his kitchen. “Doc! Sit anywhere. Suz is running late. Her car wouldn’t start, so it’s me and Norma and Carly this morning.”
Sawyer scanned the open tables and selected a booth by the window, nodding to a tableful of older gentleman as they made their way. “Guys.”
“Morning, Doc,” they chorused.
He stopped and Huck nearly bumped into him. “Huck, this is the Breakfast Club—Noah, Clyde, Butch, and Harry. Guys, my brother Huck Braxton.”
Harry tilted his head, and a lock of snow-white hair fell over his forehead. “Huck? And Sawyer? Do you have a sister named Becky?”
Huck laughed. “Nope. Phoebe. But Mom’s a lit prof, so Pheebs is literary, too, just not Twain.”
Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Let me guess—Shakespeare?”
Sawyer grinned. “Salinger.”
“Ah, American literature then.”
Butch gave Harry’s bicep a gentle nudge and said in a twang that was nothing like his real voice, “Quit showin’ off yer book learnin’, Harry. Nobody likes a smart-aleck judge.”
Clyde and Noah guffawed and nodded in agreement.
Harry gave him a withering glance over the top of his wire-framed glasses. “It wouldn’t hurt you three to pick up a book once in a while.”
“I read,” Noah insisted.
Sawyer shook his head and continued on to their booth while the four older men continued to wrangle amiably. Norma came over to pour coffee and take their orders, and as he stirred a packet of sugar into his mug, Huck asked, “Okay, so tell me the truth. How are you doing down here in the back of beyond?”
Sawyer added half-and-half to his coffee and sighed. “It’s not the back of beyond—it’s a great town with plenty of amenities.”
“Oh, yeah, I passed a Target on my way in.”
“I like it here, Huck,” Sawyer said quietly. “The people are really nice, and I love working with John and the animals. It’s challenging—different every day. I’ve already done about five surgeries—one was a difficult bowel obstruction on a German shepherd who ate a rock.”
“Fun.” Huck smiled up at Norma as she set orange juice and a couple of syrups on the table. “Thank you.”
Sawyer tried again. “Did you know Aidan Flaherty lives here? He owns a showboat down on the river.”
Huck raised one brow; clearly he didn’t know who Aidan Flaherty was.
“ LA Detectives ?” Sawyer offered. “Won an Oscar for the remake of A Streetcar Named Desire ? Mom made us all watch it at Christmas, remember? Aidan was Stanley.”
Light dawned on Huck’s face. “Oh, yeah. That guy. Okay. Gotcha.” He downed the orange juice in one long gulp. “That was one depressing movie—but he sure did a good job. Nice deflection, by the way. What do I tell Mom when she asks how you are?”
“The truth. I’m good, Huck.” Sawyer gazed at his brother. “So, you can tell Mom and Dad and Pheebs and Kate that I’m doing fantastic down here and not missing academia one bit.”
Huck eyed him suspiciously. “This isn’t a case of thou dost protest too much ? Mom’s going to pump me when they get back next week.” He raised his voice an octave and gave a really great imitation of Gwendolyn Farmer-Braxton. “Is he eating? Is he thin? How were his eyes? What’s his apartment like? Has he unpacked his books?”
Sawyer burst out laughing. “You saw my books on the shelves, right? A caveat to that is if I decide to store my books in boxes for the next fifty years, that’s my business, not Mom’s.”
Huck raised both hands, palms out. “Hey, dude. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He dropped his hands. “Besides, you know Mom—hands-off unless she thinks you’re in danger of becoming a hermit.”
“I’m not. Not even close, plus, I eat—my landlord owns this place, for Pete’s sake.” He spread his arms out to encompass the diner and Mac back in the kitchen before pointing both index fingers toward his face. “See? My eyes are all bright and happy.” He dropped his hands in his lap as Norma approached with two plates of steaming blueberry pancakes and two sides of bacon. “I’m good, Huck. Truly.” He debated for a second before adding, “And there’s this woman…”
*
Anna shoved open the door to Mac’s Riverside Diner with her shoulder, while at the same time texting Jack, “What did you order?”
“Fried egg sandwich and oj.”
“Okay, CU in a few.”
Looking neither left nor right, she headed straight for the counter as she tucked her phone into her jacket pocket. She was meeting Jack and a client up at Orchard Hill, and she didn’t have time to stop and chat with anyone. She merely needed to grab their breakfast orders and zip out. She wanted to give Jack one more quick look at the prints before the Kimuras, one of the Japanese auto factory families who were moving to River’s Edge, arrived to walk the lot and talk about any design changes. It was a sunny day and warmish enough that being outside wouldn’t be bad. Her jacket would be enough, even on the breezy hill above Dykeman’s orchard. She lifted her chin to Mac when he looked up from his grill and raised his spatula.
“Two minutes,” he called. “Norma, coffee for the carryout. One with cream and two sugars, and a black with one sugar.”
“Anna!” Judge Harry Evans called from the center table he occupied with his usual morning cronies. “How ya doin’?”
“Great, Harry. How about—” She closed her lips over the rest of the greeting when she turned and saw Sawyer in a booth just behind the Breakfast Club. He was sitting across from a man who looked like he had to be related—they both had toast-brown hair and square jaws. When the guy smiled at something Sawyer said, there it was—one dimple. Sawyer had his back to the door, which was probably the only reason he hadn’t seen her yet.
Thanks a bunch, Harry.
Of course, Harry noticed her gaze go right to the booth. He glanced over his shoulder, then smirked and raised his voice. “Not so sure my life isn’t a little bit less interesting than yours right now, Annabelle.”
With that, Sawyer turned, looked up, and smiled that slow grin that made her stomach flutter and warmth flood through her.
She waved and he gave her a little salute, so when she finished paying and had a bag and a small drink carrier in hand, she walked purposefully to the table. “Hi, Sawyer.”
“Hel lo there.” The other man’s gaze raked her from head to toe and back again right before he glared at Sawyer. “Did you just kick me?”
Sawyer merely glowered back, then turned to Anna. “How are you?”
“Fine, you?”
“Good, good.” He inclined his head at his companion. “This is my brother, Huck. Huck, this is Anna Walker.”
Some sort of wordless communication passed swiftly between the two brothers as Huck rose partway, then fell back in the booth. “Nice to meet you, Anna.” Then he quirked a brow at Sawyer.
“Anna’s an architect for her family’s construction firm, and she’s going to foster a stray puppy that came into the clinic a couple weeks ago.” Sawyer’s explanation came out fast and in one breath, although why he thought he had to explain their relationship at all was beyond her. Was he supposed to say, This is the woman I’m attracted to and am trying to date, but she’s stubborn and won’t cooperate, so I convinced her to take this puppy in hopes it will help me in my cause.
Which, of course, assumed that was Sawyer’s prime motivation in forcing her into fostering Trixie. Kind of bigheaded of you, Anna … and he didn’t force you. She blinked and refocused on the two men in the booth.
“Are you now?” Huck continued to grin at Sawyer, whose ears had turned dull red. “That’s nice of you.”
“Sawyer assures me it’s only temporary.” She inclined her head, then turned to Sawyer. “I’ve got a meeting. Afterward, I’m going to go get some supplies for Trixie. Will you text me what kind of food I should buy? And anything else you think I might need?”
“Sure.” He hesitated for a moment. “I-I could go with you…”
She frowned. “No, your brother’s here. Show him around town. I’ll figure it out. I’ll come pick up Trixie on Monday after work.”
“Yeah,” his brother piped up. “Show me around, Sawyer. I want to see River’s Edge.”
Disappointment showing clearly on his face, he scowled at his brother. “Fine. I’ll show you the clinic, and we can take Otis down to the River Walk.”
Huck twirled his index finger around in a small circle. “Can’t wait.” He popped another bite of blueberry pancake into his mouth and gave Sawyer a squirrel-cheek grin.
Anna almost burst out laughing, but she knew only too well what a pain brothers could be. Besides, this guy was Sawyer’s problem, not hers. She needed to get up to Orchard Hill and wow the Kimuras, who were only in town for the weekend before flying back to Japan. “Nice to meet you, Huck. Enjoy your time in town. Sawyer, take him to Hutchins House for dinner—there’s live music tonight.” She headed for the exit but stopped when a hand appeared from behind her to push the door open for her.
“Hey.” Sawyer’s warm breath stirring the hair over her ear sent a shiver down her spine. “Will you be there? At the tavern? For the music?” His voice was soft, coaxing, tempting.
*
“I walked out.” Anna confessed to Maddie as they wandered Happy Pets, the pet store in town where Maddie had convinced her to shop instead of going up on the highway. “Didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t say anything ?” Maddie held up a soft pink collar and leash combination, but put it back when Anna wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“Nope, just left him in the open doorway, got in my truck, and drove away.” Anna nabbed a purple nylon harness from a peg. “No pink. She’s going to be bold. Look at this one. On the puppy website I read, it says it’s better to start little ones with a no-pull harness than a collar.”
“Okay.” Maddie handed her a purple leash. “Bold it is—purple says she’s stately and powerful.”
“Good. I don’t want a wimpy dog.”
“ Are you going to the tavern tonight?”
“I dunno. Should I? What kind of message would that send?”
Maddie picked up a set of purple to lavender gradient stoneware bowls and put them in the cart. She leaned her elbows on the cart handle. “That you have a crush. Sounds like he does, too, but at least he’s owning it.”
“I don’t have a crush. After Daniel, I’m crush-proof.” Anna stooped down and nabbed a purple-and-black plaid dog bed that looked cozy and held it up. “What do you think?”
“I think we have a theme going here.” Maddie gathered up a purple two-sided dog brush, and a purple waste bag dispenser shaped like a dog bone. “This will attach to your leash, so it’s always handy.” She dropped them in the cart on top of the dog bed. “No one is crush-proof, Anna. Not even you, especially when there’s hot new veterinarian in town.” She gave Anna a persuasive smile. “It’s time to get back out there.”
As they turned down the food aisle, Anna scrolled through her texts to find the message from Sawyer telling her what kind of food to buy.
“I’ve seen the new vet; he is pretty hot.” Bea Douglas, the owner of Happy Pets, was restocking treats when they got to the food. “Sorry, not eavesdropping, but it’s hard not to overhear in this place.”
Anna ignored Maddie and Bea’s conversation about the hot vet as she perused dog food labels, looking for the one Sawyer had texted her. “Ah, this one. Just a small bag because she might not be with me all that long.”
“She won’t?” Bea turned from the display she was filling. “Why not?”
“I’m only fostering her. She’s registered with a Papillon rescue group. Someone will want her, I’m sure.”
Bea raised one skeptical brow. “Sure.” She handed a bag of treats to Anna. “Use these for potty training, and be sure to give her lots of praise when she does her business outside.” She turned back to the job at hand, but then said, “Oh, and the vet—nice move fostering the dog. That’ll get you in good with him.”
“I’m not—” Anna stopped and sighed. What was the point? This damn town pursued matchmaking like it was an Olympic sport. She put the food and treats in the cart. “We’re ready to check out, Bea.”