Chapter Eleven #2
Jenna took in a breath. “My uncle raked the back yard today. He does it every year, rakes up all the leaves, puts down winterizer and stuff to keep the lawn healthy when it gets cold.” She swallowed hard.
“I think he didn’t latch the gate when he finished.
I got home from work, let Arnie out back, then went upstairs to change.
While I was up there, I got a call from the shop, so I was on the phone for about half an hour.
I went to let him back in and he was just…
gone.” She waved a hand. “I ran up and down the street in my socks, calling him—which was silly because he can’t hear me.
I was just about to get in my car and drive around when you pulled in.
” They both glanced down at her feet. One sported a red sneaker.
The other wore a once-white-now-kinda-brown sock.
“Fashionable,” Sawyer said, and Jenna’s laugh was clearly one of relief.
“I am nothing if not trendy.” She blew out a huge breath. “God, I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.”
Sawyer found herself following Jenna into the kitchen and watching as she pulled a half-full bottle of white wine from the fridge.
Two glasses poured, she handed one to Sawyer.
They touched them together in a sweet little ping and sipped.
Arnold was at Jenna’s feet, and she squatted down to pet his head some more.
“Tell me what happened,” Jenna said.
Sawyer shrugged. “I mean, not much. I was driving home. I was over on Pine Street.”
Jenna gasped. “Oh my God, he got that far?”
“He was trotting along at a pretty good clip. I caught him out of the corner of my eye as I drove past, and I didn’t think it could be him. I mean, why would it be?”
Jenna nodded and took another slug of her wine.
“But I had a weird feeling, so I pulled over and had to run to catch up. The second he saw me, he came to me. I think he was scared and so relieved to see a familiar face.” She decided not to mention how close he was to that busy intersection.
Jenna didn’t need any more stress or worry around the situation.
“He let me pick him up and we got back in my car.”
“I can’t believe you stopped. I don’t know how to thank you, Sawyer.”
Jesus, the way her name sounded coming from Jenna’s lips did things to her, caused that familiar fluttering low in her body. “No thanks necessary. I’m just really glad I saw him.”
“I’m really glad you stopped. Not everybody would have.”
That was a fact, and they sat with it for a moment in silence, sipping their wine while Arnold sat on the floor between them, looking up at them, his head moving from one of them to the other. Jenna set her glass down and swooped him up in her arms, kissing all over his furry head again.
“Don’t ever worry your mommy like that again, mister. Understand?”
Sawyer watched as she kissed him some more, his tail sticking out from under her arm and wagging about a mile a minute, her brown eyes wet with unshed tears and an expression of such love and relief that Sawyer knew it was a picture that would live in her head rent free for a long time.
“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “I should go.”
“Wait.” The word seemed to shoot from Jenna’s mouth. “Stay.”
“Stay?”
“Have dinner with me.” Jenna stopped, and her eyes went just a little wide for a fraction of a second. Then she seemed to shake off whatever it was, straighten her spine, and smile softly. “I was going to make some pasta.”
There was zero comparison, and Sawyer knew it. Home alone with a bowl of cereal or here in Jenna’s warm and inviting house with her, eating pasta and talking about, well, anything, really. No contest.
“Okay. I’d like that. Let me run next door and change into something cozier.”
“Perfect.”
Sawyer could feel Jenna’s eyes on her as she set her glass down and headed down the hall to the front door.
Outside, she went back to her car and got her work bag out, then headed inside.
Ten minutes later, she was dressed in joggers and a hoodie, her hair clipped up in a messy pile, fresh coat of gloss sparkling on her lips, and a bottle of Cabernet under her arm.
Dinner and conversation with Jenna.
She couldn’t think of a more perfect evening.
What was it about having Sawyer in her kitchen while she cooked?
Jenna couldn’t put a finger on it exactly, but there was something that made her feel…warm. A little tingly in places. Nervous. Definitely nervous, but in that kind of fun way, where the butterflies flew lower in her body than usual.
She put a pot of water on the stove to boil and sautéed a little minced garlic in a deep skillet, along with a small bit of chopped onion.
A glass of wine sat on the counter next to her, and a beautiful woman sat in the chair behind her.
Arnold was curled up in his donut bed, probably exhausted from his own stress and excitement, and Wallace and Gromit were lounging in the living room.
It all painted a very domestic—and unnervingly comfortable—picture, and Jenna tried not to dwell on it as she stirred.
“How’s the blog lately?” she asked Sawyer.
“I’m a little behind, to be honest. I need to get a couple of reviews up soon. Plus, I need to schedule a couple of interviews…” Her voice drifted off, and Jenna turned to look at her. Sawyer gave her a half grin. “Been a little preoccupied.”
Guilt immediately flooded through her as she turned back to the stove. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been taking up some of your time. I just—”
“No.” The way Sawyer said that one small word, the emphasis she put on it, had Jenna spinning to look at her again.
When their eyes met, Sawyer smiled and softened her voice.
“No. You have no need to apologize. The time I’ve been spending with you has been much more fun than sitting at home alone, writing my snarky blog. ”
A laugh shot out of Jenna then. “It has been kinda snarky.”
“You’ve read it?” Sawyer’s blue eyes went wide behind her glasses.
“Of course I have. I wanted to make sure you took that ridiculous romance blog down.” She shot a sly grin at Sawyer and didn’t get into details of how she’d gotten sucked in, had spent an entire day at the shop reading Sawyer’s blog, going back months and then years.
It was the posts from the last eight to twelve months, though, that had signaled a change.
Sawyer sighed. “I guess my writing can reflect my life sometimes. When I was going through the shit with Amanda, I was kind of mad at everything.” Her small chuckle held a bitter edge.
“I get that.” A can of crushed tomatoes went into the pan.
“What about you?” Sawyer asked.
Jenna turned to meet her gaze, watched as Sawyer sipped her wine. “What about me?”
“Relationship-wise, I mean. Don’t take this the wrong way, but why is somebody like you single?”
“Somebody like me?” she teased.
“You know what I mean. You’re successful, smart, kind, hot…” Sawyer lifted one shoulder as if this was all common knowledge.
Jenna added some salt and pepper and then some freshly chopped basil to the sauce, and put the spaghetti into the boiling water, the whole time trying to hide the giddy grin at being called hot by somebody as hot as Sawyer Hall.
“I guess…” She made herself really think about the question and answer honestly.
“I guess I’m just waiting for the right person to come along. So far, she’s taking her time.”
“Do you date?”
“Sure. I date. Not terribly often, but I date.” She held up the wooden spoon she’d been using. “In fact, I went out two months ago with a pilot.”
“Ooh, sexy.”
“She was. She was also an egomaniac and hugely narcissistic. No, thanks.”
“Yeah, those are no good.”
“So, I’m just waiting until my princess comes along.” She gave the pasta a stir to keep it from clumping.
“Like your very own romance novel, yeah?” She could hear the teasing tone in Sawyer’s voice, and she turned to look at her.
“As a matter of fact.”
“And you think she’s just gonna walk into your life one day? Just show up out of the blue?”
Jenna held her gaze for a beat before lifting one shoulder and saying simply, “Maybe.”
The air felt charged. Electric. Like either one of them could get zapped at any moment.
Jenna wanted to feel that excitement forever, but at the same time, needed it to stop.
She wet her lips and made herself turn back to the stove, but her heart pounded and her palms sweat, and, goddamn it, her underwear was damp now, too.
She wondered if Sawyer was feeling something similar. She also didn’t want to know.
“So,” she said, her tone clearly indicating a change of subject, she hoped, “what’s the next review? What are you reading now?” She didn’t look at Sawyer, hoped she’d taken the hint and was collecting herself, too.
“The new Stephen King, actually. I’m about a third of the way in.”
“And?”
“I mean, it’s Stephen King. Some of his books are better than others, but there’s not a bad one in the bunch.”
“I read Children of the Corn when I was way too young,” Jenna said with a laugh. “I had nightmares for days. Can you grab the strainer out of that lower cupboard?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s not for kids.” Sawyer found the strainer and put it in the sink. Jenna poured the spaghetti in and let it drain. “So, you weren’t always a romance nut.”
“No, I pretty much was. My dad was a Stephen King fanatic, and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. I think the nightmares were karma for me stealing one of his books without asking.”
“You don’t talk about your family much,” Sawyer said. Her voice was curious, but softly so.
“I don’t. No.” For most people, that put an end to this line of questioning, but apparently, not for Sawyer.
“How come?”