CHAPTER TWELVE SAWYER
C HAPTER T WELVE
SAWYER
The sidewalks are quiet around me, only the whisper of a breeze crossing through the pine trees as I glance over my shoulder.
Feeling nervous—probably because I’m trespassing—I casually grab the knob on the cabin’s front door, squeeze my eyes tight, and, on a hope and a prayer, I turn it.
To my delighted and grateful surprise, the door is unlocked, so I push through into a dusty, vacated cabin. Dust whooshes into the air, and I cough a few times as I reach for a light switch and flip it up, illuminating the space. Fallon was right—needs a bit more work, not much, though.
It took me a second to find the cabin meant for Fallon’s dad, since it’s truly tucked in the back in its own little grove of pines, but when I did find it, I knew it was meant for him.
I could already tell the door was wider, and there are the makings for a ramp, but the planks haven’t been nailed in yet.
Inside, the cabin is just like mine, but the walls are white on the inside rather than a natural oak.
The floors are a whitewashed gray color and are a little more than halfway installed, while the moldings and furniture are on the finished side.
I glance in the bathroom and notice that tiles and flooring have been installed—thank God—but plumbing fixtures are still in their packaging.
The cabin really is almost done. Timing is key, and I feel an ache of sympathy that Sully got sick when he did because I’m sure it pains him that he wasn’t able to finish this for his son.
Taking in the unfinished products and the supplies already there, I’d say it needs a day’s worth of work.
I can knock out the floor quickly and attach the baseboards and molding no problem.
Touch-up paint will take a second to dry.
Fixtures won’t take long. And it looks like the planks for the ramp are already cut—they just need to be nailed into place.
Yeah, I can easily get this done in a day.
I survey the rest of the space, making sure I don’t miss anything, and that’s when I come across design plans hung on the wall behind a mattress that’s leaning against it.
Since the windows are covered in sheets, blocking most of the early-morning light, I reach for my phone and turn on the flashlight to get a better look.
The bed will go in the middle of the room, with a red carpet underneath.
I glance around and spot a rolled-up rug in the closet, along with bags of bedding.
I gratefully check those off my mental list. Next to the rug are two lantern-style wall sconces.
Where do those go? I turn back to the design and notice they’re supposed to go on either side of the bed.
I adjust the king-size mattress some more and see that the wall has been prewired.
Thank God. I can work with electric, but it’s not my favorite thing.
Installing a sconce is not a big deal, but prewiring. .. yeah, no thank you.
I step away from the design plan and take in the space one more time as anticipation flutters through me.
This will be easy, even with how sore I am.
And it will be worth it. Hearing Fallon speak of the unfinished project last night nearly broke me.
Not only could I hear the disappointment, the embarrassment in her voice, but it was also written all over her face.
And the way she spoke of her dads, how much she missed them, and knowing this is blocking their ability to see each other more. .. I need to finish this.
But first things first: I need some water, and then I need to fetch my tools from the shed.
Water bottle in tow, I exit the cabin and walk along the pine-covered pathway toward the lobby. It’s early, so the sun is still cresting over the rock formations, adding a pink glow to the sky. I can see why Fallon loves it here so much—it’s absolutely breathtaking.
“What do you mean you have to leave?” I hear Jaz say as I step inside. “Are you lying to me?”
The door shuts behind me, and both Fallon and Jaz look up, eyes widening.
“Oh, there he is... the home-wrecker.”
“Jaz, stop,” Fallon moans.
But she doesn’t; she takes a step forward. “What were your intentions last night?”
Well, good morning to them as well. Christ. I wasn’t expecting to be interrogated this early.
“Uh, to eat dinner,” I say, frankly frightened by the crazed look in her eyes.
She closes the space between us and pokes me in the chest. The surprised look on her face from the impact of her nail against my muscles almost makes me smirk. But I’m not a dumb man—I know a smirk will only piss her off—so I hold back.
Jaz gathers herself, huffing and straightening up. “So, you mean to tell me that you had the purest of intentions last night?”
I glance over at Fallon, who’s massaging her brow with her fingers, clearly already bruised and battered from Jaz’s verbal onslaught.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I answer.
“So, you weren’t trying to hit on my friend?”
“Jaz, please,” Fallon says.
“You weren’t trying to take a second chance at love? Because let me tell you something, Julia , you had your shot with Fallon, and you blew it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Fallon says. “Please ignore her.”
I look between them, my confusion rising.
Uh, as far as I know, everything was innocent last night.
No one crossed the line. It was a night involving waffles, nonalcoholic beverages, and strictly platonic conversation.
So where is this coming from? I surely hope I didn’t do anything to make Fallon believe otherwise.
“I was hungry last night. I wanted a waffle, so I went to your bar. Fallon happened to be going at the same time. My plan was to sit alone and drum up ideas for my next script, but the place was packed, which forced me to sit next to Fallon. It would have been weird if we didn’t talk.
So, I talked to her. There were no other intentions involved.
I understand she has a boyfriend, a pretty chill guy, actually, so trust me when I say I don’t intend on doing anything to jeopardize that.
I know what it feels like to be cheated on—I wouldn’t do that to someone else. ”
Jaz straightens up, a dignified lift to her chin. “Checks out.” She turns back to Fallon. “So do you want apple-cinnamon or blueberry?” She walks over to a bakery box resting on a nearby table and flips it open.
“Seriously? You’re going to act like you didn’t just insult me?” Fallon asks. “Or insult Sawyer, for that matter?”
“You act as if I have any sort of ability to control my filter. You should know better by now.”
“Jaz, you owe us an apology. That was completely inappropriate.”
Jaz sighs and pulls a muffin out of the bakery box. “I’m sorry if I was rude, but I’m also concerned. I saw the way you were looking at him, the laughing... it made me think you were interested.”
Not the impression I got.
But I did enjoy her laugh.
I loved her smile.
And it was nearly impossible not to bump her playfully with my shoulder or even lean closer.
But I held it together, because like I said, she has a boyfriend.
“I wasn’t looking at him any certain way,” Fallon shoots back, her voice growing angry.
Jumping in, I add, “I, uh, I didn’t notice any certain looks. We even stated that we weren’t friends, just acquaintances.”
“Okay.” Jaz pulls the muffin wrapper down. “Just want to make sure nothing’s going on. You know, for Peter’s sake.”
“You don’t need to worry about Peter,” Fallon says. “I have that under control. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take Sully down to Palm Springs for the day.”
“You really are leaving?” Jaz asks.
“Yes, I told you, I forgot he had appointments today, so I have to take him down there, and then we’re having dinner with my dads. I won’t be home until late.”
“Are you meeting up with Peter?”
Fallon’s eyes flash down. From the droop in her shoulders and silence, it’s obvious she’s hiding something.
“Did you even tell him you were going to be in Palm Springs?” Jaz presses.
“I didn’t.” Ahh, there it is. “But I’ll text him and invite him to dinner.”
“Uh-huh.” Jaz moves toward the entrance of the lobby. “You do that, you text him.” She turns and points at me. “Your brother texted me—you’re lucky you did something right, Julia.” And without another word, she strides outside, muffin in hand, switchblade sticking out her back pocket.
Seriously... she’s terrifying.
And yeah, the minute I got back to my cabin, I sent Roarick her number and told him he’d better text her, at least to keep my balls intact. But he was grateful to get her number, so... something is going on there.
When the door shuts, Fallon lets out a deep sigh. “God, Sawyer, I’m so sorry about that. How embarrassing.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say. “It’s really fine. She’s just being a friend.”
“An annoying, obtrusive one.” Fallon flicks the top of the bakery box. “Do you want a muffin? There are three in here.”
“That’s okay, I don’t want to take your muffins.”
“I’m offering you one. It’s the least I can do after that embarrassing conversation.” She grabs the box and brings it over to me. “Blueberry or apple-cinnamon?”
“Which one is your favorite?” I ask her.
“Apple-cinnamon.”
“Blueberry it is,” I say, taking one out. “Thank you.”
“Thanks for putting up with Jaz.”
I set the muffin on top of the water jug. “You know, some people might think that offering a muffin would be a sign of friendship,” I tease.
“Some might think that, but that’s not the case here. Just a nice cabin owner, offering their guest a morning muffin. Nothing more.”
Fuck, she’s cute.
Just talking to her like this, going back and forth, brings a lightness to my life I forgot I was missing.
“Right.” I finish filling up my water bottle. “Because we couldn’t possibly have anyone thinking that we are friendly.”
“Precisely, but also because... we’re not friendly.”
“Nope, not even in the slightest.”
I smile.
She smiles.