CHAPTER FIFTEEN SAWYER #2
If I work hard, there will be sweat, but if I’m just sitting at the desk, writing, I’m not breaking out in a sweat, needing a fan to blow a breeze up my lower region, Marilyn Monroe–style, just to cool down.
Although no doubt it would feel good...
“For the love of God, close your legs.” Fallon laughs, but I just attempt to spread them wider.
The attempt falls short.
Very short.
And before I know it... I feel a snap.
“Oy, my groin,” I say, clutching my inner leg and rolling to the side.
Fallon’s laugh is even louder.
See? Self-deprecation.
Works like a charm. Just wish I wasn’t clutching my (sweaty) groin in front of her.
*It’s not really sweaty, I need you to understand that. But, you know... overexaggeration... *
“Call the medics... oh wait!” I sit up. “Nurse Fallon, report to the grass—your patient popped his groin out of its socket.”
“That’s not even a thing.” She pushes at me with her toe. “And there’s no way you’re my patient.”
“I don’t claim to be an expert on medical terms, but I do know good bedside manner when I see it, and nudging a patient with gnarly troll toes is not a proper way to conduct yourself.”
Her eyes widen with silent laughter, the corner of her lips curling up in shock. “I don’t have gnarly troll toes.”
I grip the spot on my leg where she pushed me with her foot. “Say that to the bruise forming on my thigh.” I snap my fingers over my head. “Proprietor, proprietor, there has been an obvious case of abuse on the property. I’d like to speak with management.”
Fallon’s feet drop to the grass, and she crosses her arms at her chest. “I’m the manager and proprietor. What is your complaint?”
I roll to face her. “Your medical staff is unhelpful, your management lackluster, and this grass needs to be mowed because the blades are making my legs itchy.”
Hands clasped together, she leans forward. “Your complaint has been received. Please give us seven to ten business days to respond.”
I fly off the grass and to my feet in mock protest. “Seven to ten business days? That’s outrageous.”
She leans back on the bench now, arms still crossed, her expression playful in the moonlight. “Your sweaty crotch is what’s outrageous.”
“Hey,” I say, pointing at her. “That was said in confidence. Don’t you dare throw it in my face like that.”
“I didn’t sign a confidentiality agreement. For all I know, your dripping balls are fair game.”
The guttural laugh that erupts out of me could possibly wake up the entire town of Canoodle. “They’re not dripping, Jesus.” I wipe at my eyes.
“How do I know what’s going on down there? You toss an idea in my head, and now my mind is whirling. Temper tantrums, sweaty balls, legs kicked up while lounging—”
“I told you they weren’t kicked up; I showed you with spread legs.”
“I prefer to envision them kicked up, but I have to say, you’re not painting a pretty picture for yourself.”
“What about all the relentless labor I’ve put into the Cove—does that not account for anything?”
“The pulled-groin antics eclipse the hard work, sorry.”
I slowly nod and take a seat next to her. “In an odd way, I accept this.”
She chuckles. “Is your groin really hurt?”
“Nah, I think I just spurred it alive.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I try to backtrack. “Not like... that kind of alive. You know. Not like a boner or anything like that.”
“Didn’t take it that way, but you should be very grateful Jaz hasn’t been here for this entire conversation.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to tell her?”
“Oh no, she’s going to know about every little detail of this interaction.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less at this point.”
Silence falls between us as the sound of the lake lightly lapping against the shore takes the place of our banter.
And as we sit here, in each other’s company, I feel my heart beat faster than it ever has.
The woman beside me is untouchable, and yet I feel my palms grow sweaty being this close.
I have a burning need to look over at her, stare into those eyes, push the wisp of hair that keeps crossing over her cheek behind her ear.
In the warm embrace of this moonlit night, I realize I made a huge mistake.
A giant one.
Probably a mistake I will regret for quite some time, if not ever.
Ignoring Fallon on our blind date will go down as the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
Not falling in love with Annalisa.
Not accepting the offer to be Simon’s best man.
And not flipping them off at the altar.
Nope, allowing Fallon to slip through my fingers—now that was a colossal mistake.
I’m realizing that with a force as strong as an attacking army invading enemy territory as she cocks her head to the side and lights up my world with the simplest of smiles.
A smile so small that if I wasn’t paying attention, I might have missed the shift of her lips.
But it’s there, and hell, it’s sweet. It’s beautiful. It’s intoxicating.
I feel the grip of that smile tighten around my chest, constricting, causing my pulse to pick up, my lungs to work harder.
“Thank you,” she says softly, and my breath trips over the beat of my own heart. Her eyes connect with mine. Getting lost in her gaze is so easy. “For helping me forget for a moment.”
“Does that thank-you possibly mean we’ve stepped closer to the label of friends?” I say, trying to keep the mood light.
“Why would you push your luck like that?”
“Desperation to make a friend?” I offer, the confession partially true.
She eyes me and then stands from the bench. “We’re possibly closing in on the friends thing.”
I stand as well. “You know, I woke up today thinking, today is going to be a good day.” I step in close, and even though I know I shouldn’t touch her, I reach out and push that wisp of hair behind her ear. “It was a good day.”
My finger trails over her skin longer than it should. I’m not a dumb man; I know she’s off limits. I know the way it feels to have someone step in on your relationship. But hell, I needed this moment with her. This calm, quiet, endearing moment.
Just the one touch.
Just one night where I can look her in the eyes and for a second forget that she has a boyfriend. Forget that I let a good thing slip past me when I should have held it tight.
Her eyes search mine. They’re not frantic, they’re not confused; they’re just trying to understand, and I don’t blame her, because I’m trying to understand as well, this pull that I feel toward her.
Does she feel it too? Does she feel like I’m the ground and she’s gravity, the irresistible force bringing us together?
I take a breath. No, I need to keep that pull at arm’s length. I can do that—it’s for the best.
“It was a good night,” she replies, and then, to my utter shock, she steps in close to me and wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight. “Thank you, Sawyer.”
Fuck ...
And here I thought I could keep my feelings for her close to my chest, locked away so she’ll have no idea that I want her in my life, more than just friends.
But with her arms wrapped around me, I’m not sure I can keep my feelings monitored. Not like this.
Not feeling how perfectly she fits into my hold.
How soft and warm she is.
Or the smell of her lavender shampoo filling my head with nonsense. The kind of nonsense that will get me in trouble.
But because I’m helpless, because I’m a pathetic man who has no will when it comes to this woman and her gentle touch, I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight. “Any time, Fallon.”
For a brief second, her hand travels up my spine and back down before she releases me.
If I wasn’t desperate to soak up every moment of this interaction, I would have missed it, but because I’m obsessed with her touch, I felt it.
The comfort. The warmth. And as she takes a step back, my body turns cold, empty.
With more distance between us, she says, “You can take tomorrow off if you want.”
Take some time off? How could I? Not after realizing how petite yet strong she was in my arms, not after savoring the way her laugh vibrated through my chest or feeling the sparkle of her smile to the very marrow of my bones.
No.
Like an addict, I need more. I want to be around her. I want to get to know her better.
Despite my bruised knees, my aching back, and my blistered hands, I’ll continue to work if it means getting to spend a portion of my day at her side.
With Fallon.
I stick my hands in my pockets. “Do you really think I’d do that, take a day off?”
“No,” she answers honestly as our gazes connect. And in a flash, something passes between us. I’m not quite sure what it is; understanding perhaps? She needs this just as much as I do. “But thought I’d offer anyway.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m here for the foreseeable future, so get used to me being around.”
Andy: It’s been just over two weeks, and you’ve sent me nothing. Do I need to be concerned?
I stare down at the text, my fingers poised to reply, but reply with what?
Instead of coming up with a screenplay idea, I’ve been renovating an array of cabins for free.
Rather than doing the job I’m paid for, I’ve been secretly catching glimpses of a girl I once went on a blind date with.
In lieu of acting like a professional, I’ve been following the direction of an old, grumpy man while covertly falling for his unattainable granddaughter.
The truth doesn’t read well for me, therefore no need to respond.
I toss my phone on my bed, because if I don’t see it, then it’s not a problem, right?
Denial is a beautiful thing.