CHAPTER FIFTEEN SAWYER #3
Since I stayed up late last night cleaning up the cabin we were working on—a clean workplace is important to me—I slept in a little longer than I should have this morning, given the workload we have on the docket for the day.
But hell, even after waking up a half hour later than I should have, I’m still struggling.
Every muscle in my body is sore, my eyes are blurry with sleep, and my groin.
.. yeah, it freaking hurts. I know I told Fallon I was fine, but after I finished cleaning up, I realized that was not the case.
I attempted to ice it in the confines of my own cabin last night, but I knew there was no chance I didn’t hurt it while trying to make Fallon laugh.
And I was right.
It’s sore.
Everything is sore.
Even my fingernails.
And yet I’m dressed, baseball hat on my head, deodorant applied, and I’m ready to make something of this day. I take one last deep breath and gaze out my window, savoring the view—the placid lake, the soaring rocks. Despite the text burning a hole in my phone, my mind is clear, peaceful.
If I’ve learned anything during this time away from the hustle and bustle of the movie industry, it’s how to appreciate the small things, like the chirp of a bird, the rustling of leaves, and the importance of a small community of unconditional love—even if that community contains a diner full of nightmare trolls.
Hoping Fallon has coffee ready, I exit my cabin and make the short walk along the pathway to the first three cabins.
The sprinklers were on this morning, leaving a moistened glow to the grass that has led to the accumulation of water along the path.
The sun is already cresting through the trees, blinding anyone who attempts to be awake at this hour.
And even though I know it’s going to be a scorching day, it’s cool this morning, calm before the heat storm.
I stroll up to the second cabin, and voices filter outside from the open door.
When I come into view, I’m greeted by Fallon and Jaz, sitting on the floor, baked goods sitting in the middle, with three cups of coffee, steam drifting from the tops.
I’m drawn to the sweet nectar of caffeine, and my body propels itself forward.
Uncomfortably—thank you, groin—I take a seat with them on the floor and reach for my coffee.
“Is everything okay?” I ask when they don’t say a word.
“Everything’s fine,” Fallon says.
But Jaz must have had an extra shot of espresso this morning, because she shoots me a smirk. “Glad you were able to grace us with your presence, Julia Dripping Balls .”
My eyes shoot to Fallon, who’s covering her face, a light chuckle shaking her shoulders.
“I can’t believe you told her,” I hiss. I knew there was no way in hell Fallon wasn’t going to tell Jaz about our conversation last night, but it’s fun to pretend to be mad.
I’m just hoping she skipped over the part where I pushed her hair behind her ear. Possibly skimmed over the hug; definitely didn’t mention how I stared down at her adoringly.
“How’s the groin this morning?” Jaz asks, bringing her coffee up to her lips.
I sit up tall. “Could use a massage—you willing?”
The smallest of smirks passes over Jaz’s lips. “I’m quite good at massaging groins.”
“Given your temper, I’d assume you could really work out some knots.”
“I can work a lot more out of a man than some knots.”
“Good God,” Fallon whispers.
“Well then, what better way to start the day than with a groin massage from my least favorite person in town.”
“Least favorite?” Jaz quirks her brow. “You’re telling me you like Faye, the troll collector, more than me?”
Seeing how far she’ll take this, I set my coffee on the ground next to the pastry box and lie down on the floor.
I spread my legs and fold my hands behind my head, getting into position.
“You and Faye are technically tied, but you might be able to sneak past her with these expert fingers you claim to have.”
I’ve never been someone to back down. I actually enjoy pushing people to see how far they’ll take a joke. It’s the comedian—and I use that term loosely—in me.
I glance back at an unmoving Jaz. “Well...?”
Her devious eyes narrow, and she sets her coffee down before cracking her fingers and shaking her hands out.
“I’m warning you, I’m not gentle.”
“Do I look like a man who wants it gentle?” I ask.
“Given the way you moaned and groaned over eating ‘the usual’ at the diner, I’m going to say you won’t be able to handle me if you could barely handle that.”
“I handled it. I just wasn’t mentally prepared for that entire morning. Trust me, I can handle you.”
“Says the man who shivers in his skivvies when I’m in the same room as him,” Jaz says to Fallon, rolling her eyes. And then Jaz crawls over to me and sits at my side. I stare up at her, challenging; she stares down at me, accepting.
She flexes her fingers one more time, just for good show, and then wiggles them in front of my face.
“Are you ready for the massage of your life?”
“I’ve been waiting. You’re just stalling.”
“I’m not stalling,” she says, that temper igniting in her eyes.
“I’m letting you mentally prepare, you know, so you don’t have another Strawberry Fields moment.
Last thing I need is for you to tell people around town that my massages didn’t meet your standards because you weren’t mentally prepared. ”
“I’m prepared. Have at it.” I spread my legs a little farther apart and smile up at her. I’m calling her bluff.
“Okay, but just know, you’ll probably fall in love with me after this, and I can guarantee the feeling won’t be reciprocated. Especially since I have eyes for your brother.”
“Try me,” I say.
Her nostrils flare, and she brings her fingers up to her mouth, curled into her palm, and gives them a gentle blow before lowering them down to my—
“Enough,” Fallon says, pushing Jaz away. “Good Lord, you two are acting like children.”
“He started it.” Jaz points to me.
Did I? I honestly can’t remember... oh yeah, she was giving me sass for showing up late.
“No, you did by calling me Julia Dripping Balls.”
Hands up in defense, Jaz scoots away. “I just state the facts.”
Fallon rubs her temples. “We have a big workload today—”
“And no thanks to Julia, we’re behind,” Jaz says.
“He worked hard last night.” Fallon comes to my defense, but I notice she doesn’t look at me. Actually, has she really looked at me much since I arrived? I haven’t caught a good glimpse of her eyes, nor have I really seen her smile.
Fear and embarrassment drive through me as I think about my bold touch last night. Is she mad? Is she regretting talking to me? Does she think I went too far?
“It’s okay that he slept in,” Fallon continues, “and arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.
” She rubs her eye, and that’s when I notice just how tired she looks.
Dark circles rest under her eyes, making me wonder if her obvious lack of sleep was from me.
“Let’s just get started on electrical work for the cabins and reattaching the moldings.
Bathtub fitters are coming this weekend, as well as Tank’s group.
If we can prep these three cabins, we can give them a good idea what the others are supposed to look like.
My dads are coming this weekend as well.
It’s all hands on deck to get the job done.
” She turns to Jaz. “Can you grab the new lights from the front office? I’ll start with the moldings. ”
“Sure,” Jaz says with a huff, but she stands and heads out of the cabin.
“What would you like me to do?” I ask.
“Eat something,” Fallon says, standing as well.
My eyes fall to her cutoff jean shorts that ride higher in the front than in the back.
Frayed around her legs, there’s a hole on the front left side that if any higher could be considered indecent.
She paired the jeans with a red tank top, and her hair is pinned back, a red bandana rolled and tied around her hairline.
She’s wearing her work boots, which look hot on her, especially in those shorts.
“Something wrong with the food?” Fallon asks, and I realize I’ve been staring at her instead of eating.
“No,” I answer, smoothing my sweaty palms over my shorts. You’d think I’ve never been around a woman before with the way my body is reacting to a simple pair of cutoff shorts. “Is everything okay?” I ask. “You don’t seem to be looking at me... at all.”
“Everything is fine,” she says, still evading my gaze. “Just trying to get it all done.”
“Okay.” I pick up a muffin but don’t bite into it right away. “I’m sorry if I overstepped last night.”
“You didn’t overstep,” she retorts, striding around in a flurry as she places the moldings against the correct walls.
“Are you sure, because things feel different—”
“Because they are different.” Finally turning to face me, she leans against the wall, her hands behind her as she stares at me, still seated on the brand-new floors. “Last night made things different.”
Oh.
What does she mean by that?
“Different in a bad way?” I ask, nerves filling me.
She lets out a deep sigh, and her eyes flit up to the window.
“This is, God, this is so embarrassing.” She presses her hand to her forehead.
“But last night, when you pushed my hair behind my ear, I felt something.” Her gaze connects with me.
“I felt my heart beat faster, when I know it shouldn’t.
I felt my breath catch in my throat when your fingers grazed my skin.
” Her teeth tug at her lip. “And when you hugged me, I felt safe, protected, like I wanted to stay there longer than I should.”
I...
Hell, I don’t know what to say.
“So, I’m just trying to keep my distance, okay?” she says.
“Yeah... sure.” I have no idea how to handle her honesty. I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman tell me the problem right off the bat. Frankly, I’m shocked.