16. Confidence, Baby #2
I walk across the small stone path to the curb right as he pops out of his black electric car looking so very Sawyer. I swear the man never dresses down. He’s wearing burgundy slacks and a crisp white shirt, along with a dusty-blue patterned tie. “Admit it—you don’t own jeans.”
“Hmm. Wasn’t I wearing jeans the day I met you?” he asks, stroking his beard.
“Nope,” I say with a quick headshake. “Khaki shorts.”
A gotcha smile spreads on his too-handsome face. “That was a test. To see if you remembered.”
I groan. “You ass.”
“And you pretended you never wanted to see me again,” he says.
I gesture to the road. “I think I’ll walk.”
He pats the roof of the car. “Get in, woman,” he says—an order, and I hate that I like it. Especially when he leans in and says in a sexy whisper, even though it’s just us here, “And you wore the sexiest white dress I’d ever seen.”
A shiver races along my spine, then dashes down my legs too. I try to catch my breath, but it’s not easy since I’m also catching a hint of his scent—citrus and cedar and a bit of soap. It’s intoxicating, like it was the night we spent together.
But I don’t get in the car yet, since Captain goes first. Sawyer opens the back door for my pup. “Load up,” I tell the best boy in the world, grateful to focus on him.
Captain hops inside and lies down, his big brown eyes on me, asking if he did good. “You’re the best,” I tell him.
Sawyer reaches for the passenger door and opens it for me. “After you.”
Well, he’s an ass and a gentleman. Not the worst combo. “Thanks for the ride,” I say, smoothing a hand over my high-waisted slacks.
“I had a meeting, so it was no problem,” he says, and as I sit down he walks around the front of the car, and I can’t help but admire his strong frame, the way his clothes fit so well and hug his biceps just so.
How his shirt stretches neatly over his abs, then dips down into the waist of his pants.
Absently, I drag the corner of my lips along my teeth.
He slides into the front seat, then looks my way. “Admiring the view?”
Heat splashes across my cheeks, but I hold my head up high, denying it with, “Of the street, Sawyer. Of the street.”
He peers down the cute little lane, full of petite bungalows and well-kept lawns bursting with summer flowers. “It’s a nice street. That just makes sense,” he says dryly.
“Thanks. The Horny House is at the end of it.”
He whips his gaze to me. “No shit! I knew this place felt familiar.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You know The Horny House?”
“My sister and her husband—longtime friend of mine—own it. They were gifted it by a listener of their podcast, and they turned it into a place for—”
“Couples retreats!” I say excitedly, thrilled he knows some of the town lore. “I didn’t realize you were connected.”
“I even encouraged my friend to go after my sister. I knew he had it bad for her.”
“Aren’t you just Mister Enlightened.”
“I try. Sometimes,” he says. “Anyway, cool house. Juliet told me what they did with it.”
“A lady named Dottie is the caretaker now when the house isn’t being used for retreats. She’s amazing,” I say. “She looks out for everyone.”
“I can see now why you were checking out…the street,” he says, deliberately slow and seductive on those last words.
I remain steadfast though as I say, “I was.”
Sawyer gives me an approving nod. “You look great. Very professional. Not that you ever don’t. I’m just saying—this is a good look for the meeting.”
I glance down at the cap-sleeved blouse with illustrations of delicate wildflowers, then back up. “Thanks. I wanted to look…fashionable? Hollywood-ish?”
“It’s working,” he says. “You’re going to nail this.”
I hear my mom say confidence again. Sawyer has that for sure. I wish it weren’t so…appealing. “Let’s hope so,” I say.
“I have no doubt,” he says, but then he doesn’t move. He does not start the car. Just furrows his brow.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He pats the steering wheel. “Change of plans. Let’s take your car.”
“What?” I ask, but it’s not answered since he’s already pushed open his door and is striding over to my orange jalopy in the driveway.
What the hell is he up to? I burst out of the passenger door. “You really want to take my car?”
“Sure,” he says, but fear climbs up my spine when he walks right up to the driver’s side door.
“Sawyer, no!”
But it’s too late. His hand is grabbing the handle, and if he yanks that open through brute force, I’ll never be able to afford to get it fixed.
And…I cover my eyes when he pulls open the door. “Why? Why did you do that? I’ll never—”
But I stop since I’m peeking through my fingers and he’s…smiling. “Looks like it opens now?”
My stomach craters. I see dollar signs from the body shop. “What did you do? And why did you do it now?”
His smile never falters. “It’s fixed, Chloe.”
“What do you think, you’re magic? You touch it and it’s fixed? It might fall off.”
His gaze softens even more as he closes it with a thunk, making my heart slam, then opens it again. “It’s fixed. I fixed it,” he adds.
“You…fixed it?”
He nods. “Yesterday at work. When you were training the pittie.”
“H-how?”
He shrugs. “A screwdriver, a socket wrench, a couple other things. I had to remove the door panel. But it didn’t take too long.”
Is this real? I can barely move. Can hardly close the distance to him. But I manage. “How’d you…get in?”
He gives an apologetic wince. “Took your keys from your office. But I returned them right after. I was going to wait till you’d noticed it, but I figured it might take a while since you never use this door. But now, you can.”
I run my hand over the handle, then gingerly touch it, lift it, and…squeak. I squeak. I open it, I close it, I open it, I close it. “It really works,” I say softly, like if I speak any louder a spell will break.