CHAPTER ELEVEN FALLON
C HAPTER E LEVEN
FALLON
“Wow, it looks good in here,” Sawyer says, walking into the lobby. “I love the pops of red.”
“Thank you,” I say, still surveying the sitting area that I just finished decorating.
The furniture took much longer to build than I was expecting, but once I remembered that I could use the electric drill to make things easier, that sped up the process.
Jaz had to leave while I was building the last chair, but by then, we’d already hung a few pictures on the wall and some plaster taxidermy deer heads over the fireplace.
Two black ones, a white one, and a red—they look modern, but cute, and a bit rustic at the same time.
The pictures we hung are shots Jaz took of the property, in black and white to go with the aesthetic. There’s also a wedding picture of Sully and Grandma Joan sitting on their bench, looking out over the lake. I made sure to hang it so it’s the first picture guests see when they arrive.
The red rug brings a vibrant pop of color against the neutral furniture and beautiful new floors while brightening up the space and tying everything together.
When Sully walked in a half hour ago, he didn’t say a word—just wrapped his arms around me.
It brought tears to my eyes, knowing I was able to do this for him.
The sleepless nights and long days were all worth it for that one moment.
“I’m sure you must be exhausted,” Sawyer says.
I nod, acutely aware of my aching shoulders and sore back. “I’m going to eat and then pass out on my bed.”
“Seems fair.” He glances at me. “I, uh, I was headed to Beggar’s Hole for a bite myself. Do you want to walk over together? Clearly, you don’t have to eat dinner with me, but you know, if you want company walking over.”
I’m too tired to even put thought into my answer. “Sure. Let me just run upstairs to change my shirt. Be right back.”
“I’ll clean up these boxes for you,” he says.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can do it later.”
“Fallon, you’re exhausted. It’s no problem.” He starts breaking down the furniture boxes and piling them on top of each other. I have no energy to fight him. I let it happen as I head up the stairs and go straight to my bedroom, where I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Dear God.
I look like a wretched witch.
My hair is barely hanging on to the ponytail it’s in, my shirt is drenched, and there are pools of sweat under my arms.
Wow, Fallon, really attractive.
Not that I’m trying to look attractive in front of Sawyer, but I feel like there’s a basic human standard I like to maintain. Given the fact that he’s in a pair of khaki shorts and a clean white T-shirt, sporting a backward hat, I’d say he’s living up to the standard and I’m failing spectacularly.
I move around my bedroom and bathroom quickly.
I wet a towel—yup, that’s the level I’m at—and wipe at my face, chest, and armpits.
I fish out a clean shirt from my dresser, a simple Town of Canoodle shirt, and then I grab a baseball hat and slip it over my head, only to pull my hair through the back and tie it into a messy bun.
Feeling slightly more human, I apply some lip balm and deodorant, then slip on my Birkenstocks and call it a day.
I’m about to head down the stairs when my phone beeps in the back of my jean shorts. I pull it out and see a text from Peter.
Peter: Not sure I can make it up this weekend. They need me to cover Bill’s shift since his brother just passed away. I’m sorry, sweetie.
I feel a pang of regret as I take a seat on my bed.
Fallon: I understand. I can’t say that I’m not disappointed though. I really wanted to make last weekend up to you.
He types back right away.
Peter: Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to see you this weekend. Let me see what I can do, okay?
Fallon: Okay, but I understand if you can’t.
Peter: I guess it would be too much to see if you can come down here?
Fallon: I wish. I have twelve cabins to renovate. I promise though, soon. Once this is all over.
Peter: Holding you to that. I love you, Fallon.
I squeeze my lips together and type him back.
Fallon: Have a good night.
I pocket my phone and then head down the stairs to the lobby, where Sawyer is finishing up with the boxes and stacking them up against the wall near the door.
“Wasn’t sure where you wanted these.”
“That’s actually perfect, right there. Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” The deconstructed boxes start to fall, and we quickly push them against the wall, shimmying them in at a better angle. “That should do it.” He chuckles and then presses his hand to the top of his hat—that’s when I notice his hands.
“Jeez, what happened to you?” I point.
He brings his hand into view and takes a look at it. Scrapes and cuts line the backs of his hands and his knuckles. When he turns his hands over, I gasp at the multiple blisters along his fingers.
“Oh my God, Sawyer. Is that from last night?”
“Nah,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Just some work I’ve been doing.” He’s very evasive, avoiding eye contact. He nods toward the door. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” But I don’t move; instead I stare at him, curious at his reaction. “Do you want any Band-Aids or anything? We have a first aid kit.”
“I’m good. They’re just some nicks. I’ll be fine.
” He pushes the door and holds it open for me.
Deciding not to push him, I walk through, catching a whiff of his soap, which reminds me how he can be a sweaty mess to look at but still smell fresh.
I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that.
“So, are you happy with how the lobby turned out?” he asks as we make a right and head north toward Beggar’s Hole.
“Very happy. Sully, my grandfather, actually came up with how it should be decorated. He’s always loved red because it was the color my grandma Joan loved wearing. So, he wanted to make sure there were pops of red everywhere for her. He also loves plaid, so the wallpaper was his idea too.”
“Surprising, it’s very modern.”
“I thought the same thing, but he’s been watching shows on the DIY channel and told me that wallpaper is the new thing, so we worked on finding some that he thought would work.”
“I like the buffalo plaid,” Sawyer says, nodding thoughtfully. “It’s fresh but also has a mountain feel to it, like Paul Bunyan’s greeting you when you walk in.”
I chuckle. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. And of course, the floor came out so well—thanks again for the help on that.”
“Not a problem. Gave me something to do.”
“You keep saying that,” I say, “but aren’t you working right now? I thought I heard Jaz mention you had another movie under contract for Movieflix.”
“She did, did she?” He raises an eyebrow. “Is she reading up about me?”
“When I say you’re the most exciting thing to happen to Canoodle in a few years, I mean it.”
“Aren’t small towns supposed to be full of gossip and drama?”
“You’d think,” I say, “but the biggest drama around here is when the mayor is elected every four years.”
“Cat or dog, right?”
“Yup. It’s a bloodbath. Not only is it the highest praise you can receive, to have your animal elected the mayor of the town, but you and your animal also get to live in the mayor’s house. The best part is it has a pool, and it’s the only place in town with one.”
“A pool would feel pretty good right about now. I’m surprised the Cove doesn’t have a pool.”
“Sully planned on one.” I let out a sigh. “He actually wanted to put one in that looked over the lake but never had the money for it.”
“Shame, it would be a huge perk. There have been days where I’ve considered diving into the lake out of pure desperation.”
“Yeah, not allowed. It’s why the water is so clear—because we don’t let anyone in it. It’s just for the ducks and fish—and boats, twice a year, when we let them out on the water.”
“Only twice a year?” he asks.
“Yup. Beginning of spring and end of fall. Canoodle is very adamant about preserving the natural habitat.”
“I can tell,” he says, glancing up at the trees. “It’s why it’s so beautiful here. But the cutthroat fight for the mayor’s house makes sense. I’d adopt a pet just for a shot at the pool.”
“Jaz swears she’s going to do just that every time the election comes up because she wants to spend her summer days floating in the pool.” I shake my head, half-exasperated, half-amused.
“When’s the next election?”
“In a year. She has some time, but not too much. If she wants to make a name in the pet-owning community and make it seem like she adopted an animal out of the kindness of her heart and not just for the election, she needs to do it soon.”
“I’m guessing she’d be a cat person.”
I laugh. “Yup. She doesn’t want an obedient dog, willing to please the minute you walk through the door. She wants a cat with a mean scowl—and ideally a penchant for flipping people off as they walk by.”
He lets out a chuckle. “Sounds about right.”
Together we cross the main street that circles around the town and walk up to Beggar’s Hole. The parking lot is jam-packed, and as we head down the plank to the front door, the boisterous laughter from inside filters into the still night air.
“Wow, looks busy,” he says.
“Which means Jaz is probably ready to toss herself off the deck. She likes the business, but she doesn’t like to be run ragged.”
Sawyer holds the door open for me, and I step inside the dimly lit bar, music thumping from the jukebox. Lo and behold, the place is stuffed full of people. The only seats left are two stools at the corner of the bar.
Which means... we’ll have to sit next to each other.
And that knowledge shoots a bolt of anxiety through me. It seems so stupid, since we spent all last night laying down a floor and even sharing a pizza, but this feels different. This feels more... intimate.