Chapter 27 Another Log on the Fire
Another Log on the Fire
Wes
Iget the fire started while Sawyer runs inside to grab whatever snacks and drinks she has on hand.
The flames lick up the stone, bathing her small patio in an eerie glow that shows the weeds growing through the cracks in the cement.
Sparks jump and the wood crackles as a gust of wind blows through, making me shiver.
The slam of the screen door and the crunch of gravel pull my gaze from the fire. Sawyer’s arms are overflowing while Dixie follows close at her heels. I rush over to grab the blanket and bottles of pop out of her hands.
The smell of kettle corn makes my mouth water. Did she remember it was always my favorite, or is it just a coincidence that she brought it out with her?
I motion for her to sit down on the wicker loveseat with the bowl of kettle corn and cover her with the blanket before plopping down next to her, twisting the lid off a pop and passing it to her.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
I nod, drawing a deep breath, inhaling the smoky scent of the fire mingling with lavender, sage, and hay—the unmistakable mixture I’ve come to recognize as uniquely Sawyer.
I feel lighter with her. It’s a relief to breathe easy for once. The shackles I’ve always felt bound with have disintegrated. I lean back and enjoy the weightlessness of being in her presence.
She must sense my feeling of ease because as soon as I take a drink she says, “Can I ask you something?”
I let my hand rest on her thigh, wanting that contact. Hoping she feels the same connection tonight as I do. “You can ask me anything. As long as I can ask you something in return.”
She weighs her options a moment before agreeing with a nod. “Did you ever miss it out here when you were gone?”
Her eyes are fixed on the flames dancing in the fire pit. I can make out the orange of the flame reflecting in her eyes as I consider her question. It lights up the coppery tones of her hair, giving her an ethereal glow that makes her look like a fire sprite.
“I think I missed it for a long time, but then I forgot what it felt like to be here. To get my hands dirty and to do something that felt fun. It was hard work, sure. But being out here never felt like a job.”
“Why didn’t you ever come back then?” Her brows are pulled together like I'm a puzzle she's trying to solve.
“That’s a second question. You have to answer one of mine first.”
She gives me an irritated glower but doesn’t object.
“Why didn’t you ever get married again?”
Her reaction isn’t what I’m expecting. She bursts into a fit of loud laughter.
“That’s the question you decide to ask? My God. You could have asked me anything.”
My eyes narrow. “I want to know the answer.”
Her laughter fades into a small smirk as she considers me. Then, her expression shifts, something heavier settling in her features.
“Because I don’t ever want to be stifled the way I was in my first marriage. Landon was like”—her brows knit together as she searches for the right words—“a weighted chain wrapped around my waist, dragging me into the depths of the sea.”
“How so?”
She clicks her tongue at me. “Ah-Ah. My question first." Her gaze sharpens as she leans back to study me. "Why didn’t you come back?”
I shrug, though the answer sits heavy in my chest. “I wasn’t supposed to want to be out here. Dad always made it clear he wanted me to take over the accounting firm one day. I guess I just did what was expected of me. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”
She surveys me solemnly. “I guess I can understand that. Disappointing the people you love is always a hard pill to swallow.”
I nod grimly. "Now answer mine. What made you feel chained?"
She glances away, exhaling a shaky breath.
“Landon always tried to tame me, to make me more palatable for mass consumption. You know how important his family is around here." She presses her lips into a thin line. "I tried to rein myself in, to be smaller for him, to be less. But eventually, I realized I wasn’t happy. I’d become a ghost of myself.”
“You blame marriage in general and not the man?” I press even though I know it’s my turn to answer a question.
She huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
“I always thought he loved me for who I was until we got married and then everything changed." Her eyes meet mine, her expression unreadable. "We were so young, and I think we both had a lot of growing up to do. I’m not against the construct of marriage, but it’s not something I would ever take so lightly again. I’d need to know that the next man could handle all the wild in me. ”
I can’t remember the last time I sat by a fire with a woman late at night, eager to just listen to her talk. Not waiting for my turn to speak, not thinking about what comes next—just listening.
But here I am, hanging on every word she says.
I could sit out here with her all night and never get bored.
She cocks her head to the side. “What about you, cowboy?”
“What about me?”
“You’re older than I am. I’ve been married and divorced. I have every reason to be wary of marriage. But you?" Her eyes hold mine, curious and unguarded. "Why haven’t you ever entered into holy matrimony?”
“My fiancée dumped me,” I remind her, looking up at the navy sky.
She rolls her eyes. “That’s a cop-out. You already told me about how it ended with Hannah.”
My lips curve into a crooked smile. She’s got me there.
I would have married Hannah simply because it’s what my mother wanted, despite there being no real spark between us. Before that, I’d never found someone who interested me.
I exhale on a self-deprecating laugh. “Never found someone who didn’t bore me to tears, I guess.”
“You’re an accountant," she says it like it's a dirty word. "Of course, the women you attracted were boring."
I snort. “You’re not boring.”
“And I wasn’t the least bit attracted when you got here,” she points out.
I think back and realize every encounter we had in the beginning was tinged with her obvious distaste, right up until the day I got back in the saddle to rope again. The day I dusted off my old lucky hat.
“So, what you’re saying is you only like me for my Stetson?” I tease.
She smiles, and it makes her face nearly as bright as the flames swirling against the stone. “Something like that.”
I nudge her with my knee, and her eyes find mine. My hand slides up her thigh, and I lean in, a hairsbreadth away from her mouth. “I’ll take whatever I can get from you, Red.” And then my lips brush against hers.
This kiss isn’t hurried. It’s slow and soft and sweet.
I tunnel my fingers through her hair, and my heart takes off in my chest as her tongue slides past my lips.
She hums in delight when I angle her head so I can kiss her deeper.
The sound sends my blood coursing through my veins and my heart pounding erratically against my ribs.
I didn't know a kiss could make me feel so much. This is more than just the flood of heat and desire. It's something deeper, something I don't have the words for yet. I could sit out here all night kissing Sawyer under the star-filled sky, breathing her in and savoring the taste of her lips.
The fire crackles, and a log falls, sending sparks into the surrounding air. When we break apart, my heart is beating strong and steady, and the way Sawyer looks at me—it's like it's the first time she's truly seeing me.
This night is just another log on the fire that’s been burning inside me ever since she handed me my ass at Pops’ kitchen table. She’s headstrong, and she’s fierce, but this gentle side that shows her softness, her vulnerability—this is the part of her that brings me to my knees.
There are a million different sides to Sawyer Addams, and I think I’m falling for every single one of them.
A twig snaps and Dixie’s head follows the sound, her hackles raising as she lets out a low growl.
I glance toward the area Dixie is staring at. I don’t see anything, but my night vision isn’t great.
“It’s probably that coyote I’ve seen wandering around lately. Makes me glad I had the smaller barn put in for the goats.”
“You should probably head inside,” I say, immediately regretting it. I didn’t want to leave, but I also didn’t want Pops to know I was gone all night. He’d likely guess who I was with, and I wasn’t about to open that can of worms.
The screen of her phone lights up, and her eyes widen when she glimpses the time. “It’s three in the morning?”
“Time flies.”
“I have to be up in two hours,” she groans.
“I’ll put the fire out.”
She gathers the blankets, puts the empty pop bottles in the bowl that the popcorn was in and trudges up to the house. I dowse the flames and watch the fire die down, turning to nothing but burnt logs and ash.
I hear her screen door slam and turn to find her watching me from her porch with her arms crossed and her hair in a messy pile on her head. I stroll over to her, stepping up onto the porch.
“I suppose,” I say at the same time as she mutters, “I guess I should—” We both break off, laughing awkwardly.
“Thanks for the drink.”
“I owed you one for the orgasms,” she replies.
Another laugh rumbles in my chest. “You gonna have some free time tomorrow?”
"For orgasms?" she asks, her lips tipping up in a teasing smile. "Always."
“For God’s sake, woman. It’s not all about sex, you know? Maybe I wanted to romance you a bit.”
She licks her lips, her eyes scanning my face. “When?”
I glance up at the stars. “Six?”
She nods. “Okay. Yeah.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” I crowd her against her front door and her chin tips up as her eyes hold mine. “G‘night, Sawyer.”
“Goodnight, Wes.”
I close the gap and kiss her senseless, until her fingers are hungrily gripping my jacket, and her teeth are biting into my lower lip and I’m hardening again in my jeans. I pull away and am gratified when she makes a small, disappointed groan when I do.
We both need our rest, but especially Sawyer, who’s still recovering from that last flare-up.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper against her mouth.
She nods with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and I brush her lips with mine one more time. I turn on my heel and walk away before I can change my mind and take her back to her bed to devour her properly.
I dig into my pockets for my keys and realize something's missing. The panties I stole when she dropped them on the floor are no longer in my coat pocket. Sawyer Addams kissed me stupid and stole back her panties while she was at it. I can't say I'm surprised.
When I climb into my bed less than ten minutes later, I’m still buzzing from my evening with Sawyer. My mind is reeling, and I can’t help but consider how different everything feels now than when I first stepped foot on Dawson Ranch a month ago.
Cottonwood Creek is something special. I’ve only been back here for a month, but it already feels like I belong here.
This tight-knit little community feels like home in a way the city never has.
And I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m meant to be someone different from the person I’ve been most of my adult life.