Chapter 18
Sawyer
To say this week has been strained would be an understatement. I crossed a line last weekend on the back deck. A line Honey instantly pushed me back over, reminding me we could never mean anything again. Even if she did ride my hand so willingly and cry my name as she came …
Fuck. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve never been so reckless.
Yet the opportunity to help her, to touch her and give her the pleasure she deserves that might finally stop her sighing was handed on a plate to me and my self-control unravelled immediately.
And what did it get me? A week of Honey hardly looking at or talking to me.
I had a visit from my agent, and my friend, Boone, this week, encouraging me to finally attend some of the Pbr events now the season has restarted.
Personally, I’d rather shovel horse shit for the rest of my life than let everyone see how weak I still am.
But with Noah having a sleepover at Honey’s mom’s this weekend too, getting the hell out of Willow Ridge so that me and Honey aren’t stuck in this house alone together is best for both of us.
I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, checking my phone as I wait for Wolfman’s text letting me know that he’s on his way to pick me up to spend our Friday night at Duke’s bar like usual.
Even if the rest of the gang isn’t around tonight.
Rory and Wyatt are still working hard on the retreat until just before Thanksgiving when they’ll close, and Duke’s visiting Cherry, his girlfriend and Wyatt’s younger sister, at college.
My phone pings with Wolfman’s message just as the clack of heels echoes towards the kitchen and I look up as Honey walks through the archway.
The last remnants of the amber sunset beam through the long windows, showering her in a faint golden light that glitters around her edges and her hair that she’s twisted into a braid and draped over one shoulder.
The floaty, layered white dress she’s wearing does nothing to dispel her angelic likeness in the sunset’s glow.
It also accentuates her curves in all the right places—her hips looking too damn grabbable right now.
This is why I need to be out tonight.
An adorable huff of frustration filters from her as she fails to fasten a golden chain around her neck while she walks, struggling because she can’t see where the clasp is going.
I kick into action immediately, and drop my phone on the counter as I limp over. ‘Here, let me.’
Her eyes flash at me, clearly so distracted she hadn’t even noticed me hovering in the kitchen. ‘Oh, um, thank you. The clasp is a bit broken.’
As she turns around, I can’t help my gaze from raking over her sweet body, heat pouring through me remembering how good she felt in my hands but quickly snap out of it when she checks over her shoulder.
I take the ends of the necklace from her fingers, trying to ignore the way my skin tingles at even the briefest touch between our fingertips.
Does she feel that electricity too?
A few wispy strands of hair that didn’t quite make the braid fall over the back of her neck, so I lean down and blow them out of the way to make sure they don’t get caught.
Honey’s soft gasp fills the silent kitchen as gooseflesh breaks out across her shoulders.
Memories of that last time she made that sweet sound while my hand was down her pyjama pants agonisingly weave their way into my mind.
I try to ignore her reaction and focus on opening the clasp of the necklace that keeps sticking. The cool metal is a stark contrast to the heat crawling over my skin, as I struggle to fight my gaze from admiring the curve of her neck. Where my lips had been.
Honey’s shoulders rise and fall with more laboured breaths as I finally get the clasp to stay open wide enough to loop it through the chain. I hold onto the necklace for longer than necessary once it’s clasped just because I’m selfish and I don’t want to let her go yet.
When I finally adjust the necklace so it falls neatly against her golden skin, I glance up, eyes catching on the large mirror above the fireplace opposite us where Honey’s piercing eyes reflect back at me.
Eyes locked for what feels like an eternity in this silent house, my fingertips still hovering on the back of her neck, I wonder how often she thinks about that night.
The last time I was behind her like this.
‘You never wear your hair down,’ I state, trying to find something to say.
Her lashes flutter as she frowns. ‘It thinned out a lot when I had Noah. Hormones and stress and all that. I … I can hide that more when I wear it up.’
I hate it—that she thinks there’s a possibility she could ever look bad. Because as far as I see it, it’s a goddess standing in the mirror opposite.
‘Don’t believe that,’ I declare, reaching for her braid and carefully easing off the clear band at the end.
Her silky hair instantly loosens from the braid, and I run my fingers through the strands to encourage it further, savouring the way it slips like satin against my touch.
I’m certain Honey leans her head back to give me more too.
I tuck her now loose hair behind her ears, just like she used to wear it in high school, and I catch her eyes again in the mirror when I can’t help but say, ‘I think you look beautiful, Blue.’
She swallows, then turns to face me fully, eyes sparkling as she catches the glittering slice of sunset casting through the room. ‘Thank you.’
I step back to lean against the counter, to ease the weight off my bad leg, and my tight chest. It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to find something to say under her gaze. ‘Off somewhere nice?’
‘Um …’ She plays with the ends of her hair, shyness rearing its head despite how phenomenal she looks. ‘Just some drinks that apparently a bunch of the teachers and school staff go to sometimes. Every other Friday or something like that.’
‘At Duke’s?’ I ask, certain I’ve never heard or seen anything like that. ‘I don’t think Wolfman’s ever gone to that.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah,’ I chuckle. ‘Although it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s just never been invited … I guess I’ll see you there?’
‘Right, of course, you always go on Fridays. I didn’t think …’
That I’d be there tonight. She almost looks disappointed. Maybe she wants to get away from me as much as I do her. Just for different reasons.
It’s fine. Duke’s is always packed on a Friday so we should be able to keep our distance. God knows I need it.
When Honey said bunch of teachers, I expected to find her with at least a few other people, not sat in a booth with just one guy.
And said guy is Parker fucking Brady to make things even worse.
He was the plainest guy I ever met in high school and hasn’t changed one bit.
Couldn’t throw a football to save his life either.
Did she lie to me?
For all I know she made up a story about going out with a group because she didn’t want to tell me she was on a goddamn date.
Not that it’s a problem. She’s allowed to date whoever she likes. We might live together, but that’s strictly it. She made that clear enough—we’re just friends. Co-habitation, nothing more. At a stretch, I’m a glorified babysitter for Noah some days.
So, it shouldn’t matter if either of us wanted to see someone tonight.
I’d usually be scouting the bar for girls, anyway—there’s been plenty of them batting their lashes and throwing smiles my way as soon as I walked in.
At the very least I’d be trying to chat up one of the waitresses.
But for some goddamn reason, none of that’s appealing to me.
Instead, there’s a sharp, burning sensation in my stomach that has me glancing over too often to Honey’s booth.
Given that my leg’s slowly getting better, and that we’ve got a Noah-free house, tonight of all nights would be the best opportunity to bring a girl home if I wanted to. But that’s the problem—if I wanted to, and I’m not sure I do. I haven’t felt the desire to in months now.
But what if Honey has? What if she’s taking tonight as her chance to bring a guy home?
I never told her she couldn’t—in fact, she was pretty open about not wanting to stop me from bringing girls home.
I didn’t consider that she might want the same for herself.
Even if she did say she wasn’t looking for anything …
Wolfman swigs his beer opposite me in our usual booth, so I nudge him with my now booted foot. ‘How come you never go for Friday drinks with all the other teachers?’
‘What do you mean?’ Wolfman asks, furrowing his brow.
I nod towards Honey’s booth, which is three down from ours, and he twists to get a better look, making no effort to peer over secretively. Wolfman waves and receives a rather confused wave back from Honey, before he turns back with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
‘I don’t go for Friday night drinks with the teachers, because the teachers don’t do Friday night drinks.’ He raises his brows at me. ‘If you’re asking me, I’d say Friday night drinks were an excuse to get Honey on a date. Parker’s been frothing at the mouth for her the second she started.’
I throw my hands in the air. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?’
Wolfman shrugs but his grin remains—too knowing. ‘Because according to you, Honey was just a choir girl who helped you study so you could stay on the team. That’s all.’
I scratch at the label on my beer bottle. ‘Yeah, but she lives with me now.’
‘And?’
‘And …’ I narrow my eyes knowing I have zero arguments for him—not unless I want to spill a decade’s worth of secrets. So, all I say is, ‘Fuck you.’
His grin doubles—too aware he’s cornered me. But he doesn’t press again until he’s had a long pull from his beer, watching me the whole time. Then he shrugs. ‘Parker kinda seems her type anyway.’
I can’t help it but the words fly out—‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t Parker’s name she was crying out the other night, so …’
Wolfman chokes on his drink, whacking his chest as he coughs. ‘Are you kidding me? You’re sleeping together?’
I dip my head, widening my eyes at his overly loud voice, then grit out, ‘No, it’s not—it’s not like that. We’re just friends.’
He shakes his head. ‘Just friends, my ass. You’re a terrible liar, you know that?’ Wolfman drinks down the last dregs of his beer. ‘I’m gonna need another beer before we get into this. Want one?’
‘Sure,’ I push out, leaning back in my seat with a sigh as he climbs out the booth. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut for once?
As soon as Wolfman’s gone, I’m left with the view of Honey and the back of Parker’s head again through the gaps in the groups filling the middle booths.
And I can’t rip my eyes away—at the coy smile she flashes as they speak, the occasional melody of her chuckle that I can hear over the music all this distance away, the fairy lights in the rafters twinkling in her eyes.
It reminds me of how alone I am—how usually I’d have picked up a girl at the bar by now, and she’d be sat here with me, pressed up against my side. It’s the only way I’m going to distract myself. Even if it’s not what I truly want.
Because what I want ran away from me nine years ago and doesn’t seem to have changed her mind.
I stand from the booth, letting my eyes wander the bar as I take in the groups of women clustered around the haunt.
Painted lips, low cut tops, and thighs wrapped in tight denim promise me plenty.
But nobody feels distracting enough to keep my head from turning back to where Honey giggles shyly with Parker.
That is until my gaze snags on a blonde woman I’m pretty sure was one of Holly Slade’s friends in high school. Tara is her name, I think.
Everyone knows that blondes aren’t my type—so much so that they rarely ever approach me anymore.
Even if they don’t realise that the reason why is the beautiful blonde sat a few booths down, most likely on a date with another man.
A man who would slot into that stable life she’s always going on about, I bet.
Much easier than a beaten down bull rider.
I might have hung up my horns trying to be a better man the second Honey came back into my life with pointless hope, but I think it’s time I fix them back on. Hopefully with Tara’s help.