CHAPTER SEVENTEEN FALLON #5
Not even a little bit. I feel sad for Peter and for losing that relationship in my life. He was a solid confidant for a while, and his newfound absence from my life is sad. But I know breaking up with him was the right thing to do. I think we spent too long just pretending that it was working.
And then everything that happened with Sawyer, the confessions, the innocent touching...
I look up at him and shake my head gently. “No, I don’t regret a thing.”
“Good.” He lifts our clasped hands and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. “Then there’s nothing to be awkward about.” He releases my hand and goes back to the wall just as Jaz pops in with her box of pastries.
“Aww, the lovebirds. Have you kissed yet?”
“Jaz,” I say under my breath.
Sawyer glances at me. “You told her?”
“Of course she told me, Julia.” Jaz takes a seat on the floor, her back to the wall. “She tells me everything.”
“If she tells you everything, then why are you asking if we kissed yet?” Sawyer lifts a brow.
Jaz points at it. “You can lower that little quizzical brow of yours. I know you only held hands last night, and the mere touch made her pant—”
“Jazlyn,” I say sternly.
“But I wasn’t sure if this morning, while I took the long way to this cabin—on purpose—you finally made a move to mash lips.”
What is wrong with her?
“I’m sorry, Sawyer. Jaz clearly has no decorum.”
“No need to apologize.” After walking over to Jaz, he takes a seat next to her before reaching into the box and pulling out a fritter.
Without even an apologetic blink, he looks Jaz in the eyes and takes a bite.
“I understand how Jazlyn works,” he says, after swallowing.
“This is her way of telling me she approves. She couldn’t be happier that we. .. held hands last night.”
“I’m not mad about it,” Jaz admits, taking a fritter for herself and patting the floor in front of her for me to sit.
Uneasy, confused, and half believing the floor is about to split open and hell is about to boil over because Jaz and Sawyer seem to be.
.. friendly, I take a seat on the floor in front of them.
Sawyer shifts so he’s next to me now and hands me the box of pastries.
I reach in and grab myself a fritter as well.
I take a bite and look between the two of them. “So... this is happening? You two are getting along.”
Jaz moans into her fritter, then pauses. “As long as he doesn’t hurt you, we’re good.”
“Don’t plan on it,” Sawyer says just as his eyes connect with mine. “I know exactly what it means to be hurt.”
Nerves rumble through my chest as he inconspicuously moves his hand along the floor and softly grazes my leg.
A light touch, one you wouldn’t notice unless you’re the one being touched, and yet it evokes such a strong reaction in me it’s as if he’s just gripped my inner thigh.
I close my eyes, savoring his skin on mine.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sully’s voice booms from the doorway, startling all three of us. “I’m not paying you to sit around and eat doughnuts.” Fritters, technically. “Get your asses up and moving.” He stomps into the room.
“Well, good morning to you as well,” I say, gathering my wits as Tank trails in behind him.
“The boys are on their way,” he says, and his deep voice is so soothing, like a sensual James Earl Jones. “Oh, fritters? Is there one for me?”
“Always,” Jaz says as she pushes the box toward her grandpa, a loving look in her eye.
Tank picks up the box. “Slash any tires lately?” he asks her.
“Not yet,” Jaz answers as she looks directly at Sawyer. “But I’m prepared.”
Now that’s the kind of animosity I’m comfortable with.
Tank wasn’t kidding when he said his boys were going to work hard.
When their motorcycles rumbled into town, they didn’t play around with hellos or jolly banter.
Nope, they split into groups and attacked.
Sully took charge, with assistance from Sawyer, of course.
Watching them together just solidified exactly why I can’t seem to tear my gaze off Sawyer, why I feel like an innocent schoolgirl with a deathly crush.
Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if I started a Sawyer fan club and served as president, vice president, and treasurer.
He’s very soft spoken with Sully, asking him questions even though he knows the answers, and then helping him find those answers when he needs them.
But then, they also give each other crap, bantering back and forth like longtime friends.
Sully has a spark in his eye.
He looks more lively today than he has in weeks.
And the laugh I hear booming through the cabins, the laugh I grew up listening to, that turned into a source of comfort, I’ve heard it so many times today I’ve lost count.
Sully is in his element, surrounded by people he loves, working on improving his legacy as one big family.
It’s been an absolute perfect day. And all hands have been on deck.
The rest of the carpeted floors have been ripped out, and wood floors have been installed.
Walls are being painted at the same time—it’s like one large conveyor belt of work.
Not one cabin has gone untouched, and from the smile on Sully’s face, I not only feel like we’re accomplishing a dream I’ve had for over a year, but we’re also creating something special.
We’re building on the foundation Sully and Grandma Joan made, and we’re guaranteeing a future.
My dads arrived a few hours ago and have been working hard on preparing a large dinner for the crew.
When they first showed up, I greeted them and brought them to their newly renovated cabin.
The tears in my dads’ eyes had my heart beating even faster for the man who made this happen.
Sawyer has no idea the kind of present this was for my entire family.
When my dads asked me how I was able to get it all done, I told them about Sawyer and how he’s been helping around the Cove.
Apparently, I wasn’t able to hide my infatuation with the man, because my affection toward him was written all over my face.
So, I broke down and told them about Peter and then confessed my feelings for Sawyer, something I didn’t want to do this weekend because I wanted to keep everything focused on the cabins.
To my shock, they both said they’d seen it coming.
Not Sawyer, but the breakup with Peter. And then Papa tried to scope out Sawyer among the crew but didn’t get much of a chance because he’s been putting in so much work that I’ve barely even seen him.
But the dads are chomping at the bit, dying to meet Sawyer after all that I’ve told them.
And now that dinner is ready, the time has come.
I’ve rounded up all the men, but there’s one last cabin at the far end of the pathway that I have to check, and I know that’s where Sawyer has to be.
I walk up the two steps to the small porch and through the door, where I find Sawyer installing a black-finish light fixture. The muscles in his forearms fire off as he attempts to twist two wires together.
His shirt is off and tucked into the back of his shorts, which are riding low on his hips, showing off the elastic waistband of his black briefs.
His back is broad and chiseled, just like the front of his chest, and as my eyes travel the length of him, I notice the adorable dimples right above his backside.
“Hey,” I say gently, so as not to startle him. “Dinner is ready.”
He glances over his shoulder, and when his eyes meet mine, his lips curl into an arresting smile.
“Hey you,” he says before turning back to the fixture, where he caps off the wires and then twists.
When he’s done, he turns toward me, and I take in a shameless eyeful.
I can’t even count the number of times I’ve seen this man with his shirt off, but every time feels like the first. When my eyes return to his, I catch his pleased, almost devious expression. He’s satisfied with my once-over.
I clear my throat and take a step back toward the door. “Yeah, so... you know, dinner.” I gesture my thumb behind me. “My dads made what they’re calling a ‘summer soiree,’ because it isn’t a meal with them if it doesn’t have a name.”
“Sounds good.” He retrieves his shirt from his shorts and removes his hat—which he’s wearing backward—and dresses himself.
Once his shirt is situated, he puts his hat back on, but according to Sully: “the right way.” With Sawyer, it’s the small things that really get me, like how he wears his hat as a nod of respect to my grandpa.
When he’s ready to go, he walks toward me and gently places his hand on my lower back, guiding me out the door.
And it just about does me in.
Because it’s not the first discreet touch of the day; it’s one of many.
Every time he’s seen me, he’s either given me a soul-searing look that splits me right down the middle, or a roll of his teeth over his lips.
A once-over that tickles me to my core. A glance so palpable that it feels like his eyes are caressing me.
And when it wasn’t his eyes, it was his hand.
His fingers trailing over my skin as he walks by.
His hand smoothing over my lower back as he answers one of my questions.
A small bump of his shoulder, which is normally anything but sexy, and yet I felt a small moan bubble up in my throat.
It’s been like that all day, this constant awareness of my feelings for this man.
And I’m not sure if he realizes what he’s doing to me, but it’s making me crazy with need.
It’s making me stop what I’m doing, right in the middle of wielding a hammer, to look up and just gaze at him.
I’m distracted. I’m flustered. And I’m desperate for another fix.
“How are you doing?” he asks as we walk out of the cabin. Since we’re at the far cabin, we’re out of view of the picnic tables, which are just over the hill that slopes above us.
“Tired,” I admit. “But very, very grateful. After tomorrow, I’ll just have to set up the rooms. Jaz has already taken pictures and is working on uploading them to the website for me. We might be able to start booking on Monday.”
“That’s really great to hear.” His palm slides off my back when we make our way to the path. “I can take care of the landscaping this week. I’ve noticed a few overgrown areas that won’t take me long to fix.”
“Sawyer, you don’t have to do that. I can hire someone.”
“I got it,” he says with a wink just as his fingers brush against my hand. But before I can react and take his hand in mine, we’re climbing over the hill and in view of everyone sitting at the picnic tables... which of course are decorated to the nines.
Black tablecloths cover the freshly painted red tables.
Full eco-friendly place settings are at every seat, and in the middle for a centerpiece—of course—are an array of pine cones scattered in bowls.
The string lights are on despite the sun still shining above the crest of the mountain, and faint music plays in the background, creating the perfect ambiance.
Everyone is already seated at the tables, eating and chatting, while Papa strolls around, making sure everyone is set and comfortable.
There are two empty spots beside Dad, and I’m assuming that’s where Sawyer and I are supposed to sit. I lead the way to the picnic table and smile when my eyes connect with his. “Hey, Dad, did Jaz leave?”
He nods. “Yes, but we set aside a meal for her like we promised. We’ll bring it over to the bar after this.”
“I can do that,” I say, taking a seat.
Instead of sitting down, Sawyer walks up to my dad and lends out his hand. “I’m Sawyer—it’s very nice to meet you, Mr.Long.”
To my utter surprise, Dad’s cheeks flush. “Please call me Izaak. And it’s very lovely to meet you.”
Just then Papa joins us and places his hand on Dad’s shoulder. “This must be the Sawyer—or Phil—we’ve heard so much about.”
Sawyer smiles broadly and shakes Papa’s hand. “That would be me. It’s very nice to meet you... can I call you Kordell?”
“Please.” Papa waves his hand dismissively. “All that ‘mister’ stuff makes me feel like a seventy-year-old man, and I refuse to age.”
“It’s happening—we can see the laugh lines,” Dad teases.
Papa presses his hand to his chest in mock horror. “How dare you!”
We all chuckle and take our seats. To my surprise, Sawyer sits right next to me, close enough that the sides of our bodies skim against each other.
Normally I’d appreciate being this close to him, but I can feel my face heat up from the smell of his soap drifting so close to me.
I’m nervous I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of my dads.
You know, do something insane like leaning in and sniffing his neck, or heaving a heavy, dreamy sigh as I stare at him, or, even worse.
.. relentlessly licking my lips over and over as I moan loudly.
Not that I’d do that, ever, but there’s a first time for everything, and Sawyer may be the kind of man who’d lead a woman to embarrassing herself with chapped lips and feral sounds.
“So,” Dad says, a devious smile playing across his lips. I know that smile. It reeks of trouble. “You like our daughter.”
Oh God. Yup, I was right.
It’s going to be that kind of meal. The kind where I want to retreat halfway through and bury my head in the dirt.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I say, attempting to give my dads a warning glare.
But without skipping a beat, Sawyer looks toward me, his eyes blazing with promises. His expression is so sensual, so honest, that when he speaks, I hold my breath, waiting for his words to embrace me. “I do, Izaak. I like her a lot.”
Pardon me... I need to go faint now.