Chapter Eighteen
Rory
It was pouring rain as they made their way down Fleet Street, headed for the sports bar the following afternoon. Sawyer had insisted she wanted to walk, so Rory had lugged out his big umbrella. She clung to his arm as he did his best to keep them dry, and he was forced to admit—with her glued to his side, the journey wasn’t half bad.
Manchester United was slated to play Arsenal, and their group had previously arranged to enjoy the match in a livelier environment than Rory’s flat. It wasn’t often he found himself in someone else’s pub—but The King’s Steed didn’t have any televisions, or a menu full of food, so out they went.
It would be Sawyer’s first time watching Manchester play in a bar full of people, and her anticipation was girlish and endearing.
They were the last to arrive, Graham, Maya, and Oscar already seated at a table in a prime spot. Rory noticed there was only one barstool left, but he didn’t mind the idea of standing. By the time the match started, half the pub would be on their feet anyway.
“You two walked?” asked Maya incredulously. “In this weather?”
“It wasn’t that bad. I kind of liked it, actually,” Sawyer replied with a shrug.
Rory pulled out the empty stool beside Oscar and nodded for Sawyer to sit.
“Thanks,” she murmured, offering him a smile.
It was a natural, easy facial expression, and one he’d seen often enough; but it pierced him straight through, knowing it was for him and him alone.
He hadn’t seen it coming, his denial absolute. Regardless of his attraction and his enjoyment of her company, he never allowed himself to indulge the idea of them —not until she’d kissed him.
Again .
Now, her smile had him resisting the urge to kiss her square on the mouth in front of all their friends.
It had been hardly more than thirty-six hours since he’d abandoned his resolve to keep her at arm’s length, and he’d never felt so liberated. It wasn’t until he had her that he realized just how hard he’d been fighting what he now believed was inevitable.
He didn’t know what the future held, but he felt quite certain Sawyer was a woman he would treasure for as long as they wanted each other. Having had a glimpse of her tender heart, and a taste of her unadulterated passion, there was no doubt she deserved that much.
And yet, he was still trying to wrap his head around it—his desire to be near her, to touch her, to remind her of their intimacy. It was a foreign feeling, but one he couldn’t shake. He felt it important, given her history, that she know their relationship—however new—was worth something.
She was worth something.
She was worth chasing .
Rory reached around her and hung his umbrella from its handle on the end of the table pushed against the wall. The others had draped their coats across the back of the table as well, so he reached for Sawyer’s and helped her shrug it off, setting it aside before he removed his.
It wasn’t until he felt settled that he caught Graham’s eye across the table.
His mate had been watching him. Now, a knowing smirk curled the corner of his mouth.
With no intention of satisfying his friend that easily, Rory quirked an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand.
Their silent exchange was interrupted when their server arrived. She’d brought the first order of drinks and was quick to take note of what Rory and Sawyer wanted. They both opted for beer.
“We already ordered a round of appetizers for the table. Hope you’re hungry,” said Maya.
“Oh, thank goodness. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything all day,” gushed Sawyer.
Rory shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and pretended to be interested in the pre-game coverage on the television as he fought to keep memories of their morning in bed locked away.
While he couldn’t deny he’d been working out his fair share of pent-up longing for the past couple of days, he was surprised to learn of Sawyer’s ravenous sexual appetite. He’d have been a liar if he said he didn’t appreciate the challenge of keeping up with her. She’d yet to disappoint. Quite the opposite.
His mind and body working in tandem, he felt himself almost at half-mast as he recalled the little noises she sang into his ear right before she lost all semblance of control, overtaken by immense pleasure.
He cleared his throat and stretched his neck, willing his thoughts into submission.
Fortunately, the match was soon underway.
By the time their food arrived, the pub was full, the hum of chatter competing with the sound of the match. Arsenal scored the first goal after twenty minutes, eliciting cheers and groans—both of which could be heard coming from their table. It was during the stoppage time added to the first half when Manchester tied the score.
Sawyer was less than impressed. As she voiced her opinion of the team’s lackluster performance, Rory was reminded once more why the woman had proven to be so irresistible.
“Okay, alright, time for another round,” insisted Graham as he stood from his seat. “It’s a madhouse in here. Haven’t seen our server in ages. I’m headed to the bar. Rory, a hand?”
Rory didn’t deny him, and as they made their way through the crowd, he wasn’t the least bit taken aback when Graham said, “I’m onto you, you know?”
“Onto what?” called Rory over his shoulder, still feigning ignorance.
“Oh, come off it! You and Sawyer. You shagged, didn’t you? Finally gave in to all that sexual tension that’s been building for weeks.”
Rory pictured Sawyer, naked, blonde hair everywhere, her eyes barely open as she lay next to him, half asleep and smiling. She was so much more than a shag.
Graham clasped hold of his shoulder and gave him a shake as he laughed, “You did! I knew it. About bloody time.”
As they stopped behind the queue formed at the bar, Rory looked at his friend and admitted, “She’s more than that, mate.”
“No, I know. She’s great. We all think it. Nothing like Clara. Not that we minded having her around, but Sawyer’s a breath of fresh air.”
A frown tugged at Rory’s brow at the mention of his ex.
Until recently, he hardly ever thought about her. Not anymore. But his feelings for Sawyer had unexpectedly resurrected the past. In part, because he feared history would repeat itself. Except, the more he thought about it, and the more time he spent with Sawyer, the more obvious it became that such a fate seemed almost entirely unlikely.
It was true, he’d never give up the pub. It was his life and his legacy. Getting over Clara had been a matter of focusing on the choice he’d made—the choice she’d forced him to make. Their split had been the catalyst to his dream of expanding the pub into a restaurant.
A dream he’d all but abandoned— for Sawyer .
He didn’t want to get ahead of himself.
What he and Sawyer had was new.
Except, while it seemed pre-mature to already be considering the implications of longevity with the woman, that belief was overshadowed by the fact that he’d already made his choice.
He’d chosen Sawyer over his ambition.
He’d prioritized her dream over his.
And he did it without the promise of anything other than her happiness.
He’d wanted her to stay long before he’d admitted to himself why.
“Wait…” Graham interrupted Rory’s thoughts, making a show of getting a good look at his face before he asked, “Are you already in love with her?”
His scowl deepened as he shook away the idea. “We haven’t even been on a date yet.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Graham pressed. “I fell in love with Maya the moment I saw her.”
Rory rolled his eyes. “That was you tripping over your own feet at the sight of her.”
“But I married her, didn’t I?”
The bartender waved, motioning for their attention and effectively saving Rory from a conversation that seemed too outlandish to finish.
He couldn’t possibly have been in love.
Not yet.