Drift

Chapter 17

Patchy drizzle until an important conversation

The Sunday morning rain matches my mood. I’m misery stuck in a camel-colored trench coat and slightly too small knee-high boots.

I can’t go home. When I shut my front door and escaped down the stairs, the apartment walls rattled under the thump of incessant hammering and the goofing around of two teenage boys.

I can’t go to the beach. Not that I want to. Stopping outside the cafe, I peer around the corner. The sky is a swirl of black cotton on steel wool. Today’s bleak weather is nothing like yesterday, when everywhere I looked was sunny and blue, and the world was blissful.

What went wrong?

Sawyer and I were having so much fun. And those kisses… My knees wobble just as my hand lands on the cafe door. I will never forget his soft but demanding lips or the greedy way his hands wanted to be everywhere.

I thought our day at the beach was the start of some incredible journey.

Wrong.

I shake the rain from my umbrella, lean it against the wall, and skulk inside.

Tea and cake are the answer to my problems, and apparently, for everyone else in town.

People cram inside the cafe like it’s the Turkish Grand Bazaar on a Saturday afternoon.

It’s stuffy and claustrophobic, and if I weren’t desperate for any kind of distraction, I’d find a new escape.

I trudge to the waiting line for a table.

A hand taps my arm.

The woman beside me has a cloud of red curls speckled with raindrops. “I absolutely adore your coat,” she says. “It’s vintage, am I right?”

Finally, someone who appreciates old-world style. “Yes. It’s a London Fog.” I unknot the belt to show her the spectacular geometric lining. “It’s from the fifties.”

“It’s gorgeous.” The woman’s smile is wider than the Cheshire Cat’s. “Where did you find it? The thrift shop here in town?”

I shake my head. “There’s this terrific little vintage store in Melbourne—”

“You’re not from around here?”

I study her face—properly this time. There’s something not quite right about the way she’s watching me. She smiles, but her eyes slightly narrow, as if she’s filing and analyzing every detail that pops out of my mouth.

“I…live here…” I reply cautiously.

“You look so familiar to me. Are you sure we haven’t met somewhere before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe I saw you at a party?”

I snort a laugh. “I do my best to avoid parties.”

“What’s your name again?”

I flick a look at the door. “Oh, um…” I don’t really need tea and cake.

“Elsie, isn’t it?”

“Um…”

“Elsie Hoskins? I think someone mentioned to me you’re dating a very eligible bachelor.”

Her wink clicks all the pieces into place.

I frown. “You’re the journalist from Now Weekly, aren’t you?”

“I’m, um…”

“Mallory Something-or-Other.” I can’t remember her surname. Not that it matters. It won’t change anything even if her name is Babington or Froud. I won’t be speaking to her if she’s a reporter.

She bites down on her lip.

Confirmation.

Shaking my head, I step out of the line and edge around the customers scrambling for a coffee. I refuse to hang around to see if she admits the truth, but I’m not alone when I head for the door. The frantic clip of chic boots follows me.

“Elsie! Tell me how you first met Luke Gallo!”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

I try to push past, but Mallory flings her arms out to block the doorway.

Tapping my foot, I raise my eyebrows as a bead of sweat slides down my spine.

She’d better get out of my way. I’m cooking in this overstuffed cafe, and my mood has been sour since Sawyer rejected me.

Today is not the day for the antics of a tabloid journalist.

“Elsie,” she says. “I’ve seen you two—”

“Please move.”

“Luke asked me to print that he was seeing you in the issue the other week.”

He…what?

My fingertips retreat before I can grab my umbrella. Luke is the exclusive insider? I frown at her huffing breaths as she barricades my escape. She’s lying. He’d never admit to our arrangement. That was the whole point of “no strings attached”—plausible deniability.

Mallory shoves a business card at me. “My number at the motel is on the back. Call me. We pay for information, and we pay well. You can buy a hundred of those coats if you offer me an exclusive about Luke Gallo.”

My heart thuds in my chest. Mallory Something-or-Other is offering me the chance to get even for the hurtful things Luke said, to lash out, and to hurt him the way he hurt me. My revenge on a silver platter. But…

Revealing the secrets of my arrangement with one of the country’s most eligible bachelors will do more damage to my reputation than his.

I love this tiny town. I never want to leave.

I don’t want whispers of how easy I was to coax into his bed following me until people eventually find some other story to gossip about.

And Luke’s trying. His apologies aren’t exactly softening my heart, but he is trying.

Mallory stands in front of me, her rictus grin taut and the business card shaking in her outstretched hand.

I square my shoulders and hold my head high. “I will never have anything to say to you.”

I push her hand out of my way, grab my umbrella, and leave.

A lone lobsterman sits with his head in his hands on my bottom step. Hazel eyes lift to find me as my steps echo down the alleyway.

“Hey,” Sawyer says, dusting off his jeans as he stands. “I dropped in to check on you, but Cain said you’d gone out.”

“I picked up a few groceries for lunch.” I lift my left hand, my bag and umbrella tangled together. “I was going to make chicken salad for the guys.”

“You’ve got a kind heart, Elsie Hoskins.”

“Oh, don’t canonize me as a saint just yet. I was driven by purely selfish motives.”

“Aw, yeah?”

“I didn’t want that noisy trio disappearing on a long lunch and leaving a bunch of jobs unfinished. Think it’ll work?”

“You got booze?”

I hold up the bag in my other hand. “Beer. And for the teenagers…slightly more age-appropriate…Cokes.”

Sawyer chuckles. “Yeah, it’ll work.”

The frantic beat of my heart slows. This is…nice. I like it best when Sawyer is comfortable around me. All the weathered crinkles bunch around his eyes when he smiles, and his effortless warmth never fails to snare me into smiling back.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me,” he says. “I acted like a royal ass at the beach, but I didn’t want to leave things unsaid between us.” He sighs. “I’m sorry I shut you down yesterday. Can we talk about what happened?”

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

He flicks a wary look to the front door. Is he worried about having an audience? The apartment is overflowing with people, and the hammering echoes even in the alleyway. But my question wasn’t really optional. I head up.

“If you’re going to let me down gently,” I call out when he doesn’t follow. “I’d prefer we don’t do this in the alley.”

The stairs groan under his weight. “I guess Cain hasn’t fixed these yet,” he mutters.

The front door is already wide open. I drop my groceries at my feet, prop my umbrella against the wall, and turn to Sawyer as I unknot the belt around my coat.

“Do you want me to put the kettle on?” I ask.

“Ah, no… Could we…?” He points to the bedroom door.

My pulse flutters. Sawyer. In my bedroom. Did I make the bed? The entire apartment is a construction zone, but I’m sure I tidied up in there.

“Y-yeah…” I stumble in the opposite direction. “I’ll just drop this in the kitchen…”

I unceremoniously dump the grocery bags on the countertop—and get raised brows from Cain—and suck in a few breaths.

One conversation. I can handle one conversation.

Repeating the lie to myself, I head to my doom.

The heads of two teenagers pop around the corner.

“Sawyer’s taking her into the bedroom,” one of them whispers.

“Are they going to screw?”

“Boys,” Sawyer growls.

They smile sheepishly and disappear.

Sawyer’s fingers grip the edge of the door. “I’m going to close this, if that’s okay?”

I nod and lower myself onto the edge of the bed. When the door bumps shut, I smooth the comforter beside me and look over at Sawyer with hopeful eyes, but he shakes his head. He stands stiffly by the door.

“Elsie, I wanted to talk to you about…” He swallows. “About…when we kissed…”

“You regret it?”

“No.”

“You…enjoyed it?”

Please say yes.

He drags a hand through his hair. “Elsie, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

Oh.

“It takes a lot for me to open up…and…” He blows out a slow breath. “Trust is somethin’ I’m always workin’ on. You know I’ve had a couple of relationships that taught me how important it is to be honest.”

“I…do…”

“But I don’t think you’ve been completely honest with me, and I haven’t exactly put you on the spot because… Well, shit… Until yesterday, I only let myself dream you might be interested in a dumb bastard like me.”

“You’re not dumb. At all. I’ve never ever thought that. I think…” I bite back a smile as I fiddle nervously with a button on my skirt. “I think you’re sort of wonderful, actually.”

“Aw, Elsie.” He ducks his head to hide the color flooding his cheeks. “Don’t be sayin’ things like that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Give me a bit more truth then.”

I drop my eyes to my lap.

Sawyer’s right. I haven’t been completely honest. My past life on the mainland is a secret I locked away, hoping to visit it again only on my loneliest days. I haven’t had many of those since I met him. Well, officially met him. I wish we had talked before that terrible day at the wharf.

When I don’t answer, Sawyer adds, “You’ve got somethin’ going on with Luke.”

“No.”

“You did, though?”

“Not exactly.”

He frowns. My evasive answers aren’t meeting his criteria for honesty. I hesitate out of fear—if I admit I agreed to “just sex” and “no strings attached,” what will he think of me? People judge for less—and I care about his opinion most of all.

“I saw you two together,” he says.

Apparently, the whole town did. So much for being discreet. “What happened between Luke and me was nothing serious.”

“He’s tryin’ to smooth things over. He wants you.”

“Has he said something?”

“To me? Nah. He’s been keepin’ it strictly business since the cookout.”

“Why would that make a difference?”

“Because I acted like a jealous fuckin’ ass.” He sighs. “Forget about me. Where’s your head at? You want him?”

“I…”

“That’s my answer.”

He reaches for the doorknob. He’s going. That’s it.

“Now wait one second!” I fly off the bed. “That wasn’t any kind of answer at all! You’ve never jumped on me like that before. You always wait for me to get my bearings.”

He loosens his grip on the knob, but his head drops and his shoulders hike up on a deep breath in. “Give me somethin’ solid, Elsie.”

“What happened between Luke and me was…complicated.”

“You’re still avoidin’ the damn question!” Regret flashes across his face almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. He holds up his palm. “I’m not tryin’ to pressure you. Honestly, I’m not. Let me give you somethin’ solid to think about, okay?”

I sink back to the edge of the bed. “Please,” I whisper.

“Straight up. I’m not a placeholder until you figure out how you feel about Luke. Despite what those blockheads said out in your livin’ room, I’m not interested in screwin’ around for the hell of it.”

“I… I… understand.”

“But a woman like you?” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“Elsie, you’re a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman.

A part of me is goin’ to regret not takin’ any little bit of you that you’re willin’ to give me, but…

” He takes a deep breath. “Anythin’ less than exclusive and committed doesn’t work for me. ”

Exclusive.

I was with one man through most of my twenties. I’m great at exclusive. Luke was the first—and only—man I’ve slept with since the ink dried on my divorce papers. And for Sawyer, this isn’t about sex. Well, not just sex, anyway. He said it himself. He wants a commitment.

But how can I promise him that?

The tremor in my fingers betrays the fear coiling tight around my chest. I quickly wedge my hand between my thigh and the comforter before Sawyer catches sight of my weakness. He’s always watching. He’ll notice.

I don’t want to explain to him I was only the good wife for the bad times and not worth the effort once the money rolled in.

I don’t want to admit that I accepted Luke’s offer because I was just so lonely.

Any affection, any sign that another person cared about bringing me joy, even if it was just two nights a week—I was desperate for it.

I was terrified of being on my own. I still am.

But, somehow, what Sawyer is asking for is so much scarier.

He’s wonderful. He’s also my only friend. There is every possibility that I’ll ruin what we have, and I’ll end up even more alone. I won’t risk it.

“I can’t promise you a relationship right now,” I admit.

Sawyer’s gaze drops to his feet, but he nods. He tightens his hand around the doorknob, and the hinges creak open enough for the hammering to invade the room again.

I leap up from the bed. “Why don’t you stay for lunch?”

He keeps his eyes low. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” His voice is so gruff.

He’s going to walk out, and that’s it. He’ll be gone.

“I’m…” Oh God. Not the tears. Not now. “I’m…sorry,” I hiccup.

“What are you apologizin’ for?” He’s right there beside me. I didn’t even hear him cross the carpet, but he’s there, bending in front of me, his hand reaching for my cheek. “I asked you to be honest, and you were.”

“But…” I swipe under my nose with the back of my hand. “We have so much fun together. The road trip…and that awful CD I picked…the beach…and the… and the…” I sniffle.

“I never said we couldn’t be friends, Hosko.”

He wraps me in a hug. I want to dig my fingers into his shirt and keep him right here, close to me, where I can push my nose into his chest and breathe in the smell of the ocean that clings to him. But I don’t. His arms fall away, and then there’s only empty space.

He’s gone.