Chapter 6
Anastasia
“Anastasia, open up!”
I sprint down the stairs, heart-pounding as my mind races through all the worst-case scenarios. Did something happen? Is he hurt? Sometimes he works late at night. What if a car fell on him? What if a tool slipped and got his hand?
I rip the door open as thunder crashes just outside. Sawyer, soaking wet from the raging storm, rushes into my coffee shop, his hands beneath his jacket.
After locking the door, I turn toward him, frantically looking for injuries. “What happened? Are you okay? Let me see your hands.”
“I’m fine.” He flashes me a grin. “And now, thanks to you, this little guy is, too.” He opens his jacket to reveal a shivering orange kitten. The thing is barely the size of a potato. All of the fear I had for Sawyer moments ago vanishes at the sight of the terrified animal.
“Who is this?” I squeal and reach out for him. Sawyer deposits the tiny kitten into my hands.
“This is little Axel.”
“Axel?” I look up at him. “Why is he all wet? Why did you bring him out here? You could have waited until tomorrow to show me that you got a cat! Or you could have called me! I would have come over!”
He laughs, not at all bothered by the fact that I’m talking a million miles a minute. “I just found him tucked away in the wheel well of a car that was towed in this morning.”
“You just found him? In this storm?” I’m horrified at the thought of this sweet baby being out there alone. He must have been terrified.
He nods. “He was meowing, and I heard him when I walked by. Poor guy, the storm terrified him.”
“He looks so little.” I take the kitten toward my apartment stairs and climb, with Sawyer following. I’d left the door open in my frantic dash down the steps, but Sawyer shuts it behind me and sheds his jacket.
I try to ignore the way my heart leaps when the muscles of his arms flex with each movement. The way the droplets of rainwater slide down the side of his face, falling from his dark hair.
Wow. Could he be any more perfect?
Time to shake it off. Friends, we’re just friends.
With the personal reminder to stop focusing too hard on what I wish could happen between us, I turn my attention to the little kitten.
“What do you think he needs?” I ask Sawyer. We didn’t have pets growing up because my dad was allergic. Does he need milk? Water? Food? Can he even eat food yet?
Sawyer shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s why I brought him here.”
Laughing, I gently wrap the kitten in a kitchen towel, then hand him back to Sawyer. “You are hopeless.”
“Without you—absolutely.” Sawyer flashes me a grin, and I stand right where I am for a moment, afraid to take my eyes from his, but also terrified of losing myself in them. In him.
“Well, let’s see what Google says.” After typing If you find a kitten in the middle of the night, what do you do? into the search bar, I wait as the results populate. Then I skim through them, picking the one that looks the most legitimate. “Okay, so we shouldn’t feed him.”
“What about milk?” Sawyer asks.
I glance back as he cuddles the helpless kitten to his chest. Oh, be still my racing heart. Seeing such a strong, masculine man tending to a little kitten as though it’s the most important thing in the world? Catnip for me.
Shifting my attention back to the article before my mind wanders into dangerous territory, I keep reading. “Cow milk is dangerous, apparently. This says we should keep him warm and safe. Then get him to a vet as soon as we can.”
“Check on the warm and safe. Right, little buddy?” Sawyer carries Axel into the living room and takes a seat on the couch.
“Want some tea?” I ask.
“That would be great, thanks.”
“You’ve got it.” I fill and start the kettle, then head back into the living room and take a seat on the couch next to Sawyer. I tuck both feet up under myself and lean in to run my finger over the little kitten’s head.
He’s purring softly, his eyes partially closed as he rests in Sawyer’s arms like they’re the safest place in the world.
“So, Axel, huh?” I ask.
“Seemed fitting,” Sawyer replies softly. “I thought maybe you could keep him.”
“Me?” I stare up at him. “Why me? You found him.”
“I don’t keep hours for a kitten,” he says. “Between the shop and whatever orders come in, he would be so lonely.” The way Sawyer looks at me gives me the impression he might be lonely, too.
Is he?
“I can take care of him for you.”
“I’d rather you keep him safe. You’re good at that.”
“Taking care of kittens?” I ask with a smile.
Sawyer’s gaze locks on mine. “Making someone feel safe.”
A cup of coffee in my hand, I stand near my kitchen window, staring out at Sawyer’s shop.
I hate that I can’t tear my attention away from it.
Hate that I’m sitting here, waiting for just a single look at the man who has had me up, tossing and turning for the last two nights.
The random midnight hang-up phone calls haven’t helped, either.
But that’s something I can confront him about later since I imagine they’re just some childish way to get my attention.
I even missed church on Sunday. And now I’m on day two of not working in my own coffee shop because I just need a break.
Katelyn and Garrison are both downstairs, running it for me.
Of course, they think it’s Jack leaving that has me in the dumps.
Little do they know it’s not the FBI Agent who has me tangled in knots.
Sawyer. As I watch, one of his bay doors opens, and he steps out.
My lips part, and I lean in as close as I can without coming into view of the window myself.
He’s folded his grey coveralls down around his waist. The white tank top he wears is streaked with motor oil, and his baseball cap is turned backward.
Oh boy.
His gorgeous, caramel eyes haunt me even from what should be a safe distance.
The desire I’d seen reflected in them Saturday night hasn’t left my mind since.
The need.
The restraint.
I’d wanted to push him into making a move. Wanted to prove Jack wrong, yet Sawyer didn’t do a single thing.
“You’re playing with a fuse that’s been lit a long time, Knox.”
For years, I thought that’s what was between us. A flame waiting for the slightest breath of oxygen to become a raging inferno. Now? I’m not so sure. There’s attraction there, sure. But is there really anything else?
The knock at my door has me turning quickly from the window and crossing toward the door. I pull it open to see my mom on the other side, a hot bag in her hand. “Hey, Mom, what’s that?”
“Soup,” she replies as she moves into my apartment. “Day two of not working, and I thought it was time.”
“Time for what?”
She sets the bag down then reaches out to cup my cheek. “To talk, sweetheart.”
“Mom, I’m fine.” I’ve purposely stayed away from her because I didn’t want to talk.
What is there to say? I self-sabotaged a perfectly good relationship because I have feelings for a man who clearly doesn’t see me as anything more than a prize to be won.
If he did, then why wouldn’t he have kissed me on Saturday?
Why wouldn’t he have leaned down and breathed life into that flame?
Lit that fuse?
Ignited that spark?
“Sit.” She moves through my kitchen easily, mainly because she’s the one who helped me unpack and organize everything. After retrieving two bowls, she sets them on the counter and hums as she unpacks the soup and ladles some into each bowl.
The scent of my mom’s chicken and orzo soup makes my stomach growl. I barely ate yesterday since most of it was spent curled up on the couch watching cheesy Hallmark movies where everything goes wrong before being fixed. They give me hope that maybe my life isn’t such a dumpster fire.
Maybe, eventually, I’ll find a happily ever after.
“Here.” She offers me a bowl, then starts to leave the kitchen before pausing near my window. After glancing outside, she turns toward me, brow raised.
Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “What?”
“Girl, I didn’t raise a fool, so don’t take me as one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
My mom finishes her walk to my small table, then sets her soup down and takes a seat. I do the same, sitting across from her, purposely putting my back to the window. “How long are you going to do this?”
“Do what?”
“Pretend that he doesn’t exist.”
“He doesn’t. Not in my world anymore. His decision, not mine.”
“You have always been stubborn, but you’ve never been cruel.”
“Cruel? Are you seriously taking his side? Sawyer walked away from me, Mom. Six months ago. He turned his back on me and went about his life like we were never anything more than acquaintances.”
“Because he didn’t want to watch you fall in love with someone else.”
I shake my head. “Sawyer’s a flirt. He always has been. Anything you think was directed at me wasn’t.” To keep from continuing this pointless conversation, I take a bite of my soup.
“Anastasia.”
“Mom.”
“Would you want a front-row seat to him finding someone else?”
“It would make me physically ill.” Did I say that out loud?
“Exactly.”
Fantastic job blurting it out, Anastasia. Why don’t you just add in there how you’ve been hopelessly in love with him since you first met?
“You can pretend all you want that you don’t have feelings for him, just like he can pretend all he wants that he hasn’t been head over heels for you since he moved to town. Neither of you fools me, though.”
“Attraction isn’t enough to build a relationship.
That’s all that’s between us. Tension. We’ll burn hot and fast, and then it’ll be over before it ever began.
” Taking what little hope we have of fixing our friendship.
But is that even possible at this point?
Or has too much damage already been done?
“Why do you think you said no to Jack?”
“Because I didn’t love him. Not the way he deserves.”
“And why is that?”
“I—the spark was missing,” I say.
“Does that spark exist with Sawyer?”
I think back to last night.
To the way he gripped my arm and held me close. To the fire burning in my veins while I silently begged him to snap.