Chapter 23
I wake to the glorious smell of coffee brewing in the cabin. The fragrance carries to me in bed, and as I smile at what this means, I stretch under the covers and luxuriate in the tenderness in my thighs from the “exercise” I gave myself on top of Sawyer last night.
If I’m sleeping in here, and someone is making coffee in the kitchen, it means he’s got to be here.
He didn’t run!
I sit up, waking up faster, and grin.
So maybe he won’t be weird and hide from me again!
I suspect the “adult” thing to do would be to approach him calmly and patiently. I should ask him what the heck was with his attitude after the first time we had sex. At the bare minimum, I deserve an explanation. No one should get the cold shoulder and indifference like that after such intimacy.
And the first step to seeing if Sawyer will react differently to this episode of hot sex requires me to get out of bed and go find him in the kitchen, presumably making coffee.
I slide out of bed and grab my robe before heading out there. When I pad into the kitchen, I slow down and take a seat at the bar. He’s still here, much to my delight. I was so convinced he would bolt again, but still, the chance of that happening hadn’t dissuaded me from sleeping with him last night.
While I’m glad he’s here, I didn’t count on him working. Coffee has been made, yes, but it seems his use of my coffeemaker has warranted a repair of said machine. Parts lie all over the counter. A bowl of brownish water suggests he’s drained and cleaned it. But as I sit, he’s so into his project that he doesn’t look up at first.
“Problem?” I guess.
He sighs, setting down the screwdriver. Then he looks at me and smiles, making my heart sing. It’s not an expression of indifference. I can tell he’s not plastering on a grin for the hell of it, either. He’s…happy. With me. With us.
Before I let my hopes get too high and become giddy, I remind myself to tread carefully. He’s proven a flight risk before, and until we talk about why that is, I need to be easy.
“Morning, baby.”
Ooooh. That endearment gives me hope, too. He really is in a good mood.
“Why didn’t you mention this thing leaks?”
I mock a wince. “Whoops.” I can’t say that I didn’t warn him because I hadn’t counted on him staying the night and then taking the initiative to make coffee for us.
“You didn’t put it on the list,” he adds. “Of things for me to fix or update.”
Oh. That’s what he meant. “Well, it does make coffee.” I frown at the mess of parts. “Or it did. And I wasn’t aware you could update a coffeemaker. I planned to get a new one and just replace it.”
He nods, chuckling as he leaves the clutter of his disassembled parts on the counter to face me across it. Pushing a mug of steaming liquid toward me, he winks. “Yeah, replacing it might be smarter than trying to fix it.”
When he slides my almond milk over, he smiles. “Don’t forget your fancy creamer.”
If he’s not trying to get me to fall in love with him, I’m not sure how to interpret his consideration. He gets me. He knows that I have particular tastes, but he’s not judging me for it.
But I can’t go down that path. I’m too scared to jump into the lovely hope that we could make “it” and that he’s genuine about wanting me in his life.
I’m still confused about why he put distance between us the first time. I need an answer for it, but not right now. We’re in a good spot, and I don’t want to ruin it or complicate it. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m thinking about staying here. It’s not a matter of simply wanting to see where things can go with him, but I also don’t want to give up the chance to fit in with the two couples who have made me so happy here.
When I came here, with the prospect of making Lauren’s dress, I was mostly convinced I wouldn’t need that apprenticeship in Paris. I have my work experience with Lauren’s gown now. I’m not at all sure how I can ever make my dress shop happen, but with Dalton’s support and maybe a huge adjustment to living in this cabin until I can sell enough dresses, I’ll take the painstakingly slow approach to reaching my dream.
The only thing that’s clear is that I cannot go to New York and deal with my mother. I mean it. I’m done with her, and I can’t retreat.
Dumping all these thoughts and worries on Sawyer would be a mistake, though, and for the sake of not putting too many expectations on him this morning, I decide to avoid wading into the “what is this” topic between us.
At the same time, I feel the need to clarify something. “We’re um…What we did last night…”
“Yeah?” He grins that sexy, smug smile that somehow never fails to annoy and excite me at the same time. “It was fun.”
There we go. Fun, I can work with. Last time, he said it was nice, but fun is an ice-breaker.
“Yeah. I had fun, too. Because”—I clear my throat and look away, hoping he can’t read me so well he believes that I mean this—“that’s what we’re doing, right? This is a hookup?” I widen my eyes at the cheapness of my words. “Um. Exclusive hookups?”
He smiles, seeming to hold back a laugh. “Yeah.”
I don’t want him to think I’m merely hooking up, but until I sever all ties with my mother and solidify my plans to stay here, I can’t let him think what we’re doing is over.
He nods and sips his coffee. “That’s fine. Just make sure you let me know when my next appointment is.”
His tone is casual, but it lacks the awkward coldness I heard and felt in Denver. Maybe I’m not convincing him. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I feel good about this. It’s the best I can manage until my life isn’t as messy, and I’m elated he’s still here.
I smirk, though. “Appointment? You’re making me sound like a sex worker.”
He roars with laughter, shaking his head. “Hell no.”
As I sip my coffee, he heads into my room and gets dressed. After he comes back out and kisses me quickly, he says, “One of my guys has to go pick up some equipment in Denver tomorrow, so I can pick up anything you need.”
“Perfect!” I perk up at this offer, excited as I follow him to the front door. “Thank you. I’m so grateful for your help.”
“Hmmm.” He lingers at the door, sliding his boots on. When he reaches for me, I’m careful not to spill my coffee. “Sorry about the mess on the counter. I’ll order you a replacement. Since I do like my coffee after ‘hooking up.’”
I accept his kiss and smile back at him. At this rate, it’s almost like he’s mocking me, seeing right through me and getting used to the possibility that we’ve got something much more significant and meaningful than a mere hookup.
I wave goodbye to him, wishing him a good day at work. As I turn to the cabin and eye my workspace, I feel light and happy. Sawyer isn’t avoiding me after intimacy. We have to talk, but that will come. I’m considering how I can make my life here without much money, and I’ve got a project of a lifetime to concentrate on.
What more could a girl want?
I need nothing but some music, and once I get positioned, I lose myself in my work. Before I move forward with the design, I check over the progress so far. I’ve framed Lauren’s dress, and I’m ready for the step that involves the more expensive fabric. I never want to make any mistakes with someone else’s gown, but it’s getting crucial that I am extra careful with the costlier resources now, too.
As soon as I reach for my scissors, the reflection of sunlight glints off a windshield. I frown, peering through the windows as an expensive-looking car rolls up the drive and stops. It’s not Dalton or Caleb. Remaining still, annoyed at the interruption, I watch as the door opens and my mother steps out.
Oh, shit.
My heart races, and I press my lips together tightly so as not to scream in frustration. “What the hell are you doing here?” I seethe out loud.
My mother stands tall in her Versace dress and Louboutin heels as she looks around at the scenery. Her lips twist in a grimace and the smirk on her face that follows suggests she’s disgusted to even be here. Without a hint of approval, she walks up the drive and begins to climb the stairs.
Shit!I consider hiding, but I know it won’t do me any good. Clearly, she’s found me. She wouldn’t have randomly shown up right here without having it on good authority that she’d locate me here. I know Dalton wouldn’t have sold me out like this, nor Caleb, but my mother is nothing if not resourceful and determined to get her way.
She doesn’t give me a chance to hide either, opening the door and striding right up the porch. I cringe, regretting that I didn’t lock it after Sawyer left.
Without knocking, she enters like she owns the place and sneers at me. “You were supposed to be in New York yesterday. I figured I would come fetch you myself.”
“I’m not a thing to collect!” I stand and cross my arms.
She smirks, turning her attention from me to the dress form. As she approaches it, she rolls her eyes. “No, you’re a wayward daughter, delusional in thinking this is fashion.” She flicks her hand at it like it’s garbage.
Her words are intended to hurt. I know that, and I try to ignore her, but it still stings.
“This is tacky, Claire. Just trash. I want you to give up this nonsense and come home to get married already.” She sighs, like I’m being a stubborn child. “I’ve let you play out your fantasies. I’ve catered to letting you think you’re a ‘designer’, but this is nothing but an embarrassment to the Rennard line.”
I fume, so furious that I lack the ability to speak. The bottled-up scream will slip out before a single word.
“I’ve given you plenty of time to sow your wild oats and get your useless, fancy degree, but it’s time to come home.”
“No.” I exhale it with all the heat of my anger.
She smirks. “Listen. Any money you have access to belongs to the Rennard estate. I can easily take it all away.”
When the door opens behind her, she pauses to turn and watch Dalton rush in. “Oh. It’s you. Come to meddle with more gibberish about what your lawyers want to tell me now?”
“Claire, don’t agree to anything she says,” he warns me, backing me up.
I shake my head. “Never.” It’s taken me too long to stand up to her like this, but I can’t imagine caving anymore.
“You’re better off staying quiet like usual, Dalton.” She turns her sneer to him. “This doesn’t involve you. This conversation is between me and my embarrassing, pathetic daughter who thinks she can enjoy fulfilling her big, stupid dreams instead of doing what the women in our family are expected to do.”
“I won’t marry someone I don’t love!” I shout.
Dalton stands next to me, putting his hand on the small of my back.
“Who said anything about love?” she sasses back. “You will marry the man I arrange for you, and that is final.”
She turns again, as Dalton and I do. The front door remains open, leaving Sawyer a clear path inside. He enters confidently, his narrowed gaze on my mother as he walks right in and slams his toolbox onto the counter so hard it cracks the smooth surface.