Chapter 14
I pace past the front windows of the cabin, checking with each pass for Sawyer’s truck. I’ve looked out for his arrival so many times over the last few days, but this time, a sense of expectation hangs in the air, too. I’m not just hoping he’ll show up. He will be coming here, as planned. That excitement is enough to keep me on edge, but it’s what follows that really riles me up. We’ll be spending time together—alone—in his truck, then in Denver. And it seems like nothing more than a series of tests.
He is off-limits. Or he should be. I have too many reasons for avoiding a fling or hookup, but he’s quickly appealing to me as just that. Sawyer represents a chance for me to feel something other than being trapped by my mother and the holds on my career. He’s a new person, a new experience, and I can’t deny my basic attraction to him. I have no way to talk myself out of being curious about him either. So putting myself in the position of being tempted by him sounds like a lousy idea.
If I want to stay sane.
Not only is this not the right time for me to try anything with anyone, he’s also not the right person. Sawyer is not the kind of man my mother would ever approve of, and for so long, she’s modified my thoughts. She’s indoctrinated it into me that I shouldn’t hope to meet someone I could one day love but someone she could parade as her influential son-in-law. She’s trained me to think of marriage as a transaction, not a partnership, especially not with a common blue-collar worker like him.
And Colorado? This isn’t where I belong. Even though every minute I spend here is a breather that I need after the hustle and bustle of studying in Paris, it’s far from my ideal location for a dress shop.
Too many things stand against a future with Sawyer, but as I lean toward the window and smile at the approach of his truck as he pulls into the driveway, I can’t deny the racing patter of my heart.
I open the door and wheel my suitcase out onto the porch, hoping he won’t give me too much crap about my attire. Denver is a bigger city. It won’t feel like such a backwoods place as this small town rural area of trees and quiet mountainsides. And being in a different environment, yeah, I plan to dress to impress. Sawyer’s approval matters the most, if I’m being honest, but it seems like I already have that in spades.
He stalks up the drive and then climbs the steps, striding confidently in a way that reminds me how strong and masculine he is. His eyes stay locked on me, roving from my toes that show in my strappy sandals, up my bare legs, over my skirt and blouse, and all the way up to my short curls. At the sight of my smirking lips, he grins. It’s a cocky smile that teases me, making me wonder what filthy thoughts he’s got brewing in his mind with that smoldering look. The way he stares has me wishing he would act on that clear need to devour me, but he holds back.
Stopping at the other side of the porch, he gives me one last up-and-down look and grips the handle of my suitcase. He gives it a slight pull, and as the wheels roll across the wooden planks, his brows rise.
“We’re staying for one night, right?” he asks with too much humor lacing his tone.
I roll my eyes as he pulls and pushes the suitcase back and forth, testing its density.
“One night,” I agree. It sounds like so long, yet too short at the same time.
“One night?” He lowers the handle to pick up the luggage. “And you need all of this?” He pats the side of the suitcase.
“Yes.” I tip my chin up. “Yes, I do.” I don’t. I doubt I’ll even touch half the stuff in there, but because he’s got me so worked up and nervous and excited, I feel vulnerable and unsure of what to do or wear. Hence, the obvious loophole of simply bringing too much and having more than enough options.
“You packing bricks in here?” he teases as he heads down the steps. “A dead body?”
“Oh, shut up.”
He chuckles. “But what all is in here that you need for one night away?”
“Things.” I shoot him a look, trying to take his teasing in stride. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I wanna understand. I know you’re high-maintenance and all…” He sets the suitcase in the back of the truck and then opens the passenger door for me. “But, damn, Claire. If you pack that much for one night away, I shudder to think of what you’d bring for a real vacation.”
I enter his truck, pausing long enough to swat at his chest. It’s a mistake I regret instantly. Brushing my hand against the rock-hard wall of muscles makes me want to rub up alongside him in a slower drag of torture.
As he steps back, I slam the door shut. I counted on his criticism and joking. Still, it annoys me. He isn’t angering me, and as I sit there and watch him round the truck for the driver’s door, I bite back a smile. If this isn’t a case of a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails for attention, I don’t know what to make of his attraction.
“This isn’t a vacation,” I remind him as hotly as I can when he gets in and buckles up.
“Not for me, it isn’t.”
I frown as he reverses. Does he mean it’s work to deal with me? Or does he mean he’s seeing this trip as a business necessity for himself?
“I’m working,” I tell him again. I don’t care if he calls me high-maintenance. I am. It would be a lie to suggest otherwise. But it does matter to me that he understands I’m heading to Denver for a job.
“I need to find the fabrics for Lauren’s dress.”
“Hmm-mmm.” He nods as he speeds up on the road. “Which is why you had to pack all your equipment in that case?”
I smirk, losing my fight with a smile. “No.”
“Then what the hell did you put in that suitcase?”
“Options.”
“For you? If this is a work trip, how many wardrobe changes do you need?”
I tilt my head, eyeing him closely as he drives. “Sawyer?”
He glances at me.
“Why are you obsessing about what I wear?”
The barest hint of a blush shows on his cheeks, and he shakes his head.
“It’s more like I’m trying to stop thinking about what you’re not wearing.”
Oh, boy. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. I didn’t think he’d take the bait like that and play right along with me. I can handle flirting as well as any other woman, but that comment has me feeling too warm. Too turned-on.
The most obvious reply is none. We sit there in silence for a few awkward moments until he clears his throat and asks about what Lauren’s dress will look like. It’s such a vague and open-ended question, and I have fun answering it the best I can. He might have overreached with that blunt flirtation, but as he sticks with small talk and asking about the dress design, we fall into a more comfortable companionship. Despite our mutual urge to poke fun at each other, he is easy to get along with. We smile and bicker in equal measures, and as we enter Denver, I can’t believe how fast the drive passed us. It’s nice to be around people who don’t have expectations of me for a change, and that’s just how Sawyer treats me—like I’m just a woman in his truck along for a ride, with no expectations or obligations to meet.
He doesn’t stop there. Once we’re in the city, he’s patient to type in each fabric shop’s address and drive me to every single location. I thought he’d bring me here and ditch me while he went off to handle picking up the trailer, but it’s clear that isn’t his intention at all.
“Where to next?” he asks after the second stop.
I smile at him as we return to his truck. He’s insisted on carrying the fabric samples from both of the places we stopped at so far, and it charms me. Maybe it’s a simple gesture, him offering to carry my things and hold doors open for me, but I admire him all the more for it. He can be quick to tease me, but he is a gentleman, too. It’s a nice balance I want to get used to.
“Are you sure? I know you’ve got your stuff to do.”
He nods with a goofy grin. “Yeah. I’m sure. I’m…curious.”
“About fabric?” I smile as we get into the truck together.
“About you and what you’re doing.”
I lean forward to tap in the next place on his navigation screen.
“But I don’t get why you can’t just buy the fabric now. Instead of collecting samples.”
Once the address is in, I buckle up and face him. “Because this is very important to Lauren.”
He laughs. “Well, I imagine every bride will think her dress is important.”
More so for her. I can’t tell him about her past. It’s her story to tell him, not mine. “The details and approval of her dress matter, and I want to make sure every step of the way is meeting her needs. I want her full approval first. Then I can order it and have it delivered.” I look out the window, watching the scenery. “I hope the shipping process is quick, though.” Once I have Lauren’s approval, I’ll be more impatient to get going on it.
Sawyer shrugs. “I drive over here often enough for supplies. I can just pick it up for you.”
I blink at him, stunned by his easy reply. “That’s, um, that’s really nice of you.” Even as I say it and mean those words, I can’t wrap my head around his genuine offer to be helpful. I’m not used to people doing things for me without expecting anything in return.
For the next couple of hours, we stop for a quick lunch and collect the samples and fabric I need to start framing the dress. I can at least get started on the actual creation of the gown, but I’ll still wait for Lauren’s approval to purchase anything more.
It has already been a long day, but I know it’s far from over.
Sawyer still needs to get his trailer, and with my stops done, he heads toward the hotel we’ll be staying at for the night instead of driving back so late.
“I appreciate your patience and offering to take me around,” I tell him honestly. It may not seem like a lot to him, but it does to me.
“No problem.”
“I took up your whole day,” I protest. I feel like a problem.
“Then finish it off by sticking with me while I get the trailer.” He winks. “Return the favor and keep me company at the store so I can grab my supplies, too.”
I shrug and smile. “Okay, but now I’ll feel overdressed.”
He chuckles and changes directions to get the trailer.
Once there, I wait alongside the truck bed as he hooks up the trailer, and I struggle with the view. Seeing his arms flex reminds me of the muscles in his rugged physique. And later, when witnessing him in the hardware store as he grabs his supplies, I notice his confidence and knowledge of what to get and what to pass on.
It’s a whole new world and a shopping experience that’s far different from my line of work. But we’re not so different. We’re both in our own lines of services, and I take the moment to daydream further.
I run my hand down the smooth, polished surface of the long workspace of a counter as we wait to pay for Sawyer’s things. This surface hosts the transactions for nuts and bolts, tools, and wood. If I had my shop, my counter space would let me measure and cut fabrics with multiple drawers and bins for fasteners and tools of my trade.
“What’s that smile for?” he asks with a gentle nudge at my side.
I sigh. “Thinking about having a shop like this one day.”
“To sell hardware?”
I giggle. “No. My own dress shop. It would be really neat to have someone build it just like this. Ample counter space, customized for my needs.” I shrug, feeling silly to talk about my dreams that feel so far away.
“I know the feeling.”
I tease him right back. “Of wanting to open a dress shop?”
“No. When my dad passed away and gave the company to me and Jason, I knew how I wanted to change it and make it better. Being the boss of your own company and having that executive decision-making never gets old.” Before he steps forward to be cashed out, he smiles softly. “You’ll find out what I mean.”
Assuming I ever get there at all. It feels like I only grow further from making my shop happen but hearing him so freely support me like this makes me feel lighter. He’ll never know how much his words matter, and they only endear him to me that much more.
I sigh and nod. I hope so.