Chapter Seven
Rory
As was usually the case on Friday night, the pub was packed, and Rory and his staff had their hands full. That night, he was grateful for the presence of his closest mate. Graham was always easy company—especially because the only thing he ever ordered from the bar was beer and a bowl of crisps.
The two men met more than twenty years ago, while they were attending university. Unlike Rory, Graham had gone on to pursue a career in economics. Even though he thought it tedious at times, it paid the bills, and that was enough. More than work, Graham found his happiness at home, with his wife and daughter—Maya and Daisy.
It wasn’t often Graham found himself at the bar on a Friday night, but Maya and their two-year-old had spent the day with his sister-in-law and niece, who was about the same age as Daisy. When Maya insisted he needn’t rush home from the office, he didn’t even think twice about it.
“More of the black stuff?” asked Rory when he finally got a moment to check on his friend.
“Cheers,” insisted Graham, finishing off the last of his first Guiness. As Rory began to fill a fresh glass, he asked, “By the way, are we still on for tomorrow? Your place?”
“Of course. Match starts at half past five. Try not to be late this time.”
“Hey, I’ve got a toddler, mate,” he replied, throwing his hands up in surrender. “We run on her time schedule, not mine.”
“Yeah, well, tell her Uncle Rory says don’t be late,” teased Rory as he delivered Graham’s fresh pour.
He was distracted from their exchange when he saw her out of the corner of his eye.
Sawyer.
His good mood soured a little. Hers was the last face he wanted to see.
When she was nothing more than a pretty tourist breezing through, she’d been a fleeting temptation.
Now, she was a complication he thought better to avoid.
He didn’t want to like her, let alone desire her. She was an obstacle in his way. Part of him hoped the American would get bored or homesick, change her mind about London and Tattered Edges, and sell him the building he’d been so close to acquiring.
But there was another part of him, the weakest part of him, that found her unbearably charming and irritatingly endearing. It didn’t help at all that she was beautiful.
Rory watched her as she approached, his brow furrowing when he noticed the wine and biscuits she carried.
“Hi,” she called over the noise of the room from where she stood behind Graham. “I wanted to say thanks again, for your help this morning. I wasn’t sure what you might like, but these are for you.”
Graham, who had turned to catch a glimpse of who was speaking, responded before Rory could.
“Those are for him? Are you telling me, this grouch did something nice enough to warrant a gift from the likes of you? Bullocks,” he laughed.
Rory shook his head slightly and fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Sawyer looked between the two men then settled her gaze on Graham and replied, “I woke him kind of aggressively this morning to help me find my fuse box. It would have been a disaster of a day without him.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Graham, sounding impressed. “And who are you?”
Again, Sawyer hesitated, shifting her gaze between the two men.
“Graham, my new neighbor—Sawyer. Sawyer, my best mate, Graham,” Rory interjected.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sawyer. Let me go ahead and take this wine off your hands. He’ll never drink it, but Maya will,” he said, plucking the bottle from her grasp. He examined the bottle then added, “Good choice. My wife loves a decent cab.”
“Oh, uh, okay.”
“Go on then, have a seat,” Graham insisted, gesturing toward the vacant space next to him. “You’ve piqued my interest. I didn’t know Rory had a new American neighbor named Sawyer.”
It was obvious she didn’t know what to make of his friend. Much as he wished he didn’t like her, he couldn’t help but to put her out of her misery.
“Would you like a martini?” Rory nodded toward Graham and declared, “He’s buying.”
This earned him a smile, the expression lighting up her pale gray eyes.
Rory ignored the satisfaction of being responsible for that look.
“Sure. I’d love one,” Sawyer agreed.
She placed the box of biscuits on the bar, shrugged her way out of her coat, then settled next to Graham.
“You’re an awfully long way from home. What brought you here, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Rory began to mix the ingredients of her dirty martini as she answered openly, “Uh, Reader’s Digest version? The man who owned the bookshop next door was my father. I found out a couple months ago, when I discovered I was named in his will. He left me the shop, I decided I wanted it, and here I am.”
“Damn. That sounds sorted. So, you never met the man?”
“Nope.”
“Blimey. And that’s it? You just packed up your whole life on the wishes of a dead man you never knew?”
Sawyer’s soft laughter caused Rory to look away from his task. Without stopping to think about the longing that triggered his action, he paused to capture the memory of the look on her face. Amused and carefree.
It only took him a second to realize he was on the verge of staring, and he frowned, shifting his focus back where it belonged.
“When you put it like that, it sounds crazy. It’s hard to explain, but it felt right, so I took the risk.”
Having poured all the proper ingredients, Rory shook them together, chilling the alcohol in the process. It was loud enough for him to miss Graham’s next question, but he was finished by the time Sawyer had an answer.
“I grew up in New York, but I went to college in California and never left. Until now, of course.”
“Oh, yeah? What’d you study?”
Rory poured the martini out of his shaker tin and into a chilled glass, not bothering to look up as he said, “She’s my neighbor, Graham, not some criminal under investigation.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” insisted Sawyer.
He speared a toothpick through three olives, dropped them into her drink, then placed it on the bar in front of her. As he did so, he grabbed the box of biscuits to stow behind the counter. They weren’t his favorite, but he wasn’t an arse. Graham had already commandeered the wine. The least he could do was pretend he intended to eat the sweet treat.
She was smiling at him again when she said, “Thanks.”
Rory responded with no more than a nod as she immediately reached for the toothpick and slid a single olive into her mouth. He’d seen her do that before. Twice. The olives were her favorite part.
Bloody hell , he thought to himself, all but infuriated by how sexy she was without even trying.
“To answer your question,” she began, returning the remaining olives to her drink and shifting to face Graham. “I studied Art History during my undergrad. Then a couple of years later, I went back to earn my PhD in English Lit.”
Rory hadn’t been expecting that answer. He couldn’t say he’d given a lot of thought to Sawyer’s life before she’d entered his on Sunday evening; and perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised—but he’d been raised by an academic. Much as he loved her, his mother wasn’t nearly as entertaining as the Sawyer he’d encountered.
Graham, as Rory would soon find out, was just as surprised.
“PhD? No offense, darling, but you look neither old enough nor stuffy enough to be that educated.”
“Um, thank you? I think?” Sawyer teased before taking a sip of her drink.
“I know it’s considered rude to ask a woman how old she is, but I’m too damn curious.”
Setting aside her drink, she replied, “I don’t mind. I’m thirty-one.”
“Ahh. Still but a babe.”
“Am I? How old are you?”
Oscar tapped Rory on the elbow, distracting him from the conversation across the bar. A new ticket had come in. Four cocktails. Each of them different. Thinking it all for the best he kept his distance from his neighbor, Rory got to work and tuned her out. This worked for ten minutes, until a break between orders broke his concentration.
“Wow, so this is your first time in London?” asked Graham.
Rory shook his head. Graham had always been the type who could talk to anyone. Usually, when they were together at a party or a social event of some kind, it worked in his favor. Rory was hardly ever tasked with carrying a conversation. But that night, his friend’s extroverted nature was beginning to grate on his nerves.
“Mmhmm. I haven’t had a chance to do a lot of exploring yet, but I plan to. ”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve got a list of all the tourists traps, but if you need any recommendations for things off the beaten path, just ask.”
“Actually, now that you mention it, where would be the best place for me to watch the Manchester United match this weekend? Seems wrong for me to move to England only to watch a soccer game by myself.”
Rory whispered a curse under his breath before his eyes shifted from Sawyer to Graham. Not surprisingly, Graham caught Rory’s eye and grinned.
“If you want to know the best place, it’s just upstairs, in the flat above this pub. You should definitely come over. I’ll be there. My wife and my daughter, too. I’m sure Maya would love to meet you. It’ll be great fun.”
“Upstairs?” Sawyer looked at Rory. “As in your place?”
“You won’t meet a more dedicated Man-U fan than Rory, here.”
Her gray eyes still aimed at his blue ones, she replied, “If it’s okay, I would love to come over.”
“Of course, it’s okay,” insisted Graham.
Sawyer smiled at his friend, but then looked back at Rory for final confirmation. Irritated as he was at Graham for backing him into a corner, the only answer he could offer was yes . It would have been rude otherwise.
“Match starts at half past five,” he muttered. “Don’t be late.”
As she began to smile, he walked to the opposite end of the bar to check on his other customers.
Twenty minutes later, when Rory noticed Sawyer’s glass was dry and her olives were gone, he finally made his return. When he asked if she wanted another and she declined, he was relieved.
“Are you sure?” Graham pressed. “I’m still buying.”
“No. Thank you. I should get going. I need to put something in my stomach other than gin. I’ll see you tomorrow, though. Five-thirty.” She paused and looked to Rory. “Promise I won’t be late.”
“Was very lovely to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
She stepped down from her chair and was slipping into her coat as she replied, “You, too, Graham. I hope Maya really does enjoy the wine.” With a wave at both of them, she bid them farewell and finally took her leave.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Rory glared at his friend and stated, “I can’t believe you invited her to my flat.”
Graham, not at all intimidated by his mate’s scowl, pulled a face himself. “I can’t believe you didn’t. Have you seen her?” he asked in utter disbelief.
“I’m not blind.”
“Right—so you’re just stupid. Seriously, man. She’s both gorgeous and brilliant. Not to mention a Manchester United fan. It’s like you ordered her custom or something.”
“Oh, sod off, mate. It doesn’t matter. Have you forgotten why she’s here? I don’t want her to stay. I hope the novelty of life in London wears off so she’ll sell the place next door, and I’ll finally have the chance to expand my business the way I want to.”
“Why? So you can spend even more time working?” Graham scoffed. “Come off it! You don’t need a reason to turn into a complete workaholic—you need to get laid. And I aim to help you with that. You’re welcome. ”
Rory waved the man off then reached for his empty glass in order to replace it with a full one.
He didn’t bother mentioning how he’d already had his opportunity to bed the American.
An opportunity he’d declined.