Chapter Thirteen
Rory
The next morning, at his dining room table—with a fresh mug of coffee and the newspaper on his tablet—Rory found himself re-reading the same paragraph over and over again. After his third attempt, he abandoned the content and let his mind focus on what was distracting him.
Sawyer.
He wouldn’t soon forget the look on her face when he found her amidst the mess of the bookstore’s break-in.
He didn’t like to see her frightened.
The police hadn’t been much help, but he didn’t blame them. They had next to nothing to go on. The shop didn’t have any security cameras, and Sawyer couldn’t think of anyone who might have wanted to do her wrong. They took her statement, assured her they’d review CCTV footage, and would get back to her should they find anything remotely expository.
Rory wasn’t holding his breath.
When the police left, he had offered to stay and help clean up a bit. She declined, aware of his shift at the pub and insisting she had taken up enough of his time. He left her so as not to be a pest, helping to secure the door behind him—but even after walking away, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the matter.
Much like Sawyer, Rory couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would break-in to the bookshop simply to make a mess and leave. He still believed whoever had done it was looking for something in particular. Whether or not they’d found it remained to be seen. The only other explanation was one that left him quite unsettled.
It was possible Sawyer herself had been targeted—though what message was to be received was unknown.
He suspected Archie. He couldn’t exactly justify the accusation, so he hadn’t spoken it aloud, but the name reverberated in his thoughts.
As far as Rory knew, he and Sawyer hadn’t been in contact for weeks. None of the Blackstones seemed to want anything to do with her, a truth he knew bothered her even if she pretended it didn’t. Whether or not Archie’s silence could be accredited to indifference or mounting resentment Rory couldn’t say.
All in all, he was certain of nothing, and it irked him. He felt useless in a time of need.
It was after he’d drunk the dredges of his coffee that he got an idea. With The King’s Steed closed on Mondays, there was no reason why he couldn’t act on it immediately, so he got up, got showered, and prepared to leave the flat.
A couple of hours later, with his tool kit in one hand and his recent purchases in his other, Rory walked into Tattered Edges. The door was open, as it had been the day before, still in need of repair.
“Rory. Hello, there. I can’t remember the last time you stepped foot through that door. What brings you in?” greeted Victoria from behind the register.
He dipped his chin in silent greeting and was about to ask after Sawyer when he spotted her.
Like almost every time he saw her, she was wearing a jumper. This one was pale blue and had a pattern knit across her chest. It didn’t swallow her, like some she owned, but hinted at the feminine body it covered. It also brought out the tint of blue in her pale, gray eyes. Her hair was loose, and she raked her fingers through it as she looked up from her computer—perched in her lap as she sat with her legs folded beneath her on the couch. She glanced his way, and he couldn’t help but to notice the way her face seemed to soften at the sight of him.
“Hi,” she murmured as she set aside her laptop and began to stand. “What are you doing here?” she echoed.
“I wanted to check to see how you were.” Breaking eye contact with her, Rory gave the shop a cursory glance and continued, “Everything seems back in order, except for the door. Any word on that?”
“Yeah,” she said, crossing the room to shorten the distance between them. “We’ve got someone scheduled to come fix it, but it won’t be until tomorrow.” She came to a stop and slipped her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans. “It’s a bit drafty for now, but at least the rain let up a little.” She jerked her chin, her gaze dropping to the bag in his hand as she queried, “What have you got there?”
“Security cameras. Nothing terribly fancy, but they’ll do the job. You can download the app of the live stream on your phone. You’ll have to pay for the subscription, but it won’t break the bank.”
Her gaze shot up to meet his, her eyes round in awe. “You—you bought me security cameras?”
“And a sensor for the door,” he answered with a nod. “I’ve got the time now. I’ll install them if you don’t object.”
“Rory…”
The way she said his name tugged at his heartstrings. While the two hadn’t known each other long, he was quite familiar with her gratitude. Biscuits, wine, scotch—she was a thoughtful woman who expressed herself through gift giving. He found it unnecessary, but he couldn’t deny he appreciated the sentiment.
Except this—her tone, the expression on her face—it meant so much more. He didn’t want it to; he didn’t want to be moved by her words, her authenticity, or her tenderness, but he was. Not for the first time, he combatted what he feared were genuine feelings for the woman. He knew better. He knew himself. There was no point in pursuing someone who would probably come to want more from him than he was capable of giving.
She deserved better than that.
“I don’t even know what to say,” she practically gushed. “ Thank you. And yes, please. I would love for you to install them now.”
“Alright. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”
Rory set aside his tools and supplies before shrugging his way out of his jacket. He draped it over a nearby chair and then got to work. It wasn’t complicated and it didn’t take long. In less than an hour, he was finished. He helped Sawyer connect the devices to the app on her phone, and her excitement was nearly palpable.
Until that moment, he hadn’t really given much thought to how invested she was in the store. Sure, she’d been stubborn in her resolve to stay in London and claim ownership of the business the father she never knew had left her—but it was all so odd and convoluted, not to mention an inconvenience to him—that he hadn’t taken the time to recognize how important the store had become to her.
When she’d told him about the break-in, it was obvious she was frightened, and he understood her dismay at seeing the store in such a messy state—but he was beginning to realize it was more than that.
Rory remembered what it felt like the first time he stepped behind the bar at his grandfather’s pub. He hadn’t gotten stuck at The King’s Steed; he’d chosen to stay—because he loved it; because it meant something to him; because he believed the pub was part of the community and keeping it going was more of a public service than any other job he might have landed after university.
If Sawyer had found her purpose in Tattered Edges in the same way, he could respect her decision to stay on a whole new level. Moreover, any lingering thoughts of one day acquiring the building to move forward with his restaurant plans were unfair. If he really wanted to open a restaurant, he could do it someplace else.
He was packing up his tools when Sawyer asked, “Do you have plans tonight?”
Frowning, he glanced at her from over his shoulder as he replied, “Why?”
“Because if you don’t, I’d like to take you to dinner to say thank you. Seriously. You didn’t have to do this, but I’m so glad you did. I’ll pay you back, of course, for the equipment. As for your time—I owe you dinner.”
“I appreciate it, but you don’t owe me anything. You’ve said your thanks, and that’s enough.”
“Oh, but you know I can’t leave it at that,” she said as he slipped on his jacket. He turned to face her as she added, “If you don’t say yes, chances are good I’ll be forced to buy an obscene amount of chocolate biscuits instead.”
“God, please don’t,” he griped.
She grinned. “I won’t…if you’ll say yes to dinner. Come on. It’s the least I can do.”
There was something about her smile that made him say, “Fine. You win. Dinner.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, and for a moment he thought she might leap in her victory.
Thankfully, she didn’t.
He was relieved.
It would have been unbearably cute.
“Great. We’ll go wherever you want. I’m free after seven. We can go then, or later if you need.”
“Seven works. I’ll meet you here.” He grabbed his tools, indicating his intention to take his leave.
“Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”
He dipped his chin in acknowledgment, waved a silent goodbye to Victoria, and headed for the door. On his walk back to his flat, he considered what he had agreed to.
Sawyer treating him to a meal.
It had been more than a year since he’d sat down to dinner with a woman who wasn’t his mother. When he wanted someone in his bed, he found a drink or two would usually suffice for the brief interlude that would follow. Dinner wasn’t a promise of commitment, but it usually implied a level of interest he was smart enough to avoid.
Dinner with Sawyer wouldn’t be a date, but he had his pride. He wouldn’t allow her to pay for the meal, which meant he was going to have to convince her that her company was enough to cast off an obscene amount of chocolate biscuits.
It was, in fact, true. She’d proven to be more than tolerable company. Her laugh, alone, was enough to leave him wanting more. Add to that her intellect and her charm, and she was almost intolerably enjoyable to be around.
Not that this wasn’t information he could share with her. How he was going to be able to sway her to his way of thinking without insinuating more, he had no idea. But he’d need to figure it out. Soon.