Chapter 14
SAWYER
I am so fucking stupid.
That night at the bar, I caught myself just in time. And since then, I’ve maintained my distance, kept a professional tone. Filtered all Brie-related thoughts.
Now, though? I’ve lost my fucking mind to her. Whatever remaining brain cells I have do the polka to the tune of Brie’s breathing.
What have I done? I don’t even know what this is. A double date?
Yeah, right.
But seeing Brie out on the town, dressed like that, hit me like a sledgehammer. I lost all sense of reason. I mean, what was I doing, cupping her chin like that? Touching her like she’s mine?
I pinch the bridge of my nose because, even as I mentally kick my own ass, I know I’d do it all over again if given the chance.
The look on her face when she saw Dev walk up with another girl nearly gutted me, a feat considering I was already flayed when Brie told me she was going on a date.
I can’t say I’m upset she isn’t going out with Certified Nice Guy Dev Shah right now, but I never want to see that mix of mortification and devastation on her face again. I saw enough of it when we were kids.
At least this time it wasn’t my fault.
Speaking of Dev, what kind of idiot doesn’t date Brie when given the chance? His fucking loss.
Not your fucking gain, I remind myself, and I deserve the pain that comes with knowing that.
As we cross the street and head toward Angelica’s on the corner, we split into twos, but not the way I want. Harvest and I walk ahead while Dev and Brie trail behind. I nod as Harvest tells me this is her first time visiting Blue Ridge, and focus instead on the conversation behind me.
Dev murmurs, “Barely a month working under him and you’re dry humping downtown?”
I stifle a chuckle, picturing Brie’s bared teeth and narrowed eyes.
Brie shushes him and speaks too low for me to hear. My brain fills in all the contemptible things she’s within her rights to say about me.
Truth be told, being here right now against her wishes proves I’m still an ass. But I left her humiliated and upset too many times in the past. I couldn’t do it again.
Inside the restaurant, Mrs. Muzzarelli comes out from around the bar saying, “Oh my goodness gracious! Brie Casey, I heard you were back in town.”
Brie leans awkwardly into the hug, looking a little shell shocked, almost as if she’s surprised Mrs. Muzzarelli remembers her. Everyone remembers everyone in this town. Doesn’t she know that?
“Good to see you all here.” Mrs. Muzzarelli offers me a teasing wink as she adds, “Especially the Prince of Blue Ridge himself.”
I stifle a groan. Most people haven’t called me that since I started teaching and it was clear I’ll never follow in Dad’s footsteps. Still, Mrs. Muzzarelli is a good woman and means well.
Kissing her cheek, I say, “It’s good to be here.”
She hands us off to the hostess, who shows us to a booth near the back. Harvest and Dev slide in on one side and Brie hesitates for just a second before moving to sit across from them. She trips over her feet, not for the first time tonight, and ends up on all fours on the bench.
I have to stuff my hands in my pockets to keep them to myself while she awkwardly makes her way into a seated position.
When I slide in, her scent wafts over me. Pear and citrus and Brie.
My pants grow tight, and I make the mistake of looking down at her. Holy hell the red shirt she’s wearing is a godsend from this angle.
Stop acting like a teenager.
“Why did that woman call you the Prince of Blue Ridge?” Harvest asks, but I barely hear her.
My entire focus is on Brie. I’m fully hard now and burning up. I pull off one sleeve of my jacket, leaning toward her as I do. I make the critical mistake of inhaling deeply. I quickly tug off the other sleeve and drape the jacket over my lap.
“Sawyer comes from a long line of mayors,” Dev explains.
“Wow, so impressive,” Harvest says, but my eyes are on Brie, who rolls her eyes infinitesimally, and somehow that’s hot, too.
Our waiter, a high school kid I recognize, comes by to fill water glasses. I drain it as he tells us the specials and asks for our drink orders.
“I’ll have a Peroni,” Dev says when no one chimes in.
Harvest smiles, “Same.”
Dev smiles across at us. “Should we get a pitcher?”
Brie’s eyes dart between them across the table and the menu in her hands.
This is so familiar, I know exactly what she’s thinking. She has no interest in a cold pint right now. For such an old friend, Dev does a shit job reading her.
Throwing my arm across the back of the booth, I look up at our waiter, “Two glasses of your cheapest red, Doug.”
Brie shoots me a sharp look. “Of course you’d think I like the cheap stuff.”
I look at her, stunned. “I can’t tell the difference, that’s why I ordered it.” I look at Doug. “Two glasses of your most expensive red, please.”
Glaring at me, she tells Doug, “Bring the cheap stuff, and keep it coming.”
He nods and leaves.
As Harvest says something quietly to Dev, Brie turns to me. Instinctively, I lean to meet her.
“I can order for myself,” she mutters.
“And you did. Turns out we have the same taste.” I wink.
She shuts her eyes like she’s counting to ten and licks her lips. That mouth. It starred in so many of my teenage fantasies. Her eyes flit across the table, like she doesn’t want to bring down the mood for Dev.
“I mean,” she says, voice so low I have to move closer to hear, “I can answer for myself.”
“Like how you answered for yourself at Ravi Engel’s birthday party?” It’s meant to be a gentle tease, but her expression turns scornful.
“I was twelve.” Her chest heaves as she stares up at me, eyes flashing.
I bite back a smile as I stare right back. This verbal sparring is the hottest foreplay I’ve had in a while.
“So, uh, how’s work been?”
Dev’s question has us blinking across the table. His arm is around Harvest’s shoulders, which somehow makes his voice less annoying than usual.
“It’s going well.” Brie’s voice softens, the hard edges of her expression smoothing out. “I love third grade. The kids have been really engaged and fun.”
It’s clear from the way she talked that first day in my office that she’s passionate about teaching. I’m not surprised. She always poured herself into her favorite subjects at school with an almost singular focus.
Doug drops off our drinks and a basket of bread, and takes our orders.
“Where did you move from?” Harvest asks.
“Indianapolis.” Brie lifts her glass to her lips. Her throat bobs as she swallows, and her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip.
Harvest asks, “Why did you move in the middle of the school year?”
“Yeah,” Dev says. “Is it a good story?”
Ignoring how fucking elated I am that Dev doesn’t know the reason, I notice the way Brie stiffens next to me. Her hand forms a ball in her lap.
I want to know why she left her old school in a hurry.
Obviously, Brie isn't in Blue Ridge because she was suddenly nostalgic for the small town she was so eager to leave.
I still remember the rawness in her voice that night in front of her house.
Five months. Then I can get the hell out of Blue Ridge for good.
Something had to have driven her here. Or driven her out of where she was before.
The impulse to find out what happened and what I can do to fix it is strong. But I want to learn the truth because she decides to tell me, not because her asshole friend pressures her for a good story.
Asshole, nice guy—sometimes there isn’t a big difference.
“Who cares?” I intervene.
Brie gives me the stink eye.
“She saved my ass,” I continue. “Our third grade teacher, Ms. Cook, eloped with someone she met over winter break and never came back. No notice or anything. I could’ve kissed Brie when she showed up.”
Pink crawls up her neck. My entire body is begging me to bury my face there and take a juicy bite.
“Wait, you work at the elementary school?” Harvest asks, nose scrunched in dismay.
Out of the corner of my eye, Brie shifts, stink eye transferring to Harvest. Her shoulders square and she leans forward, as if to hear every word. If I didn’t know better, I’d describe her pose as defensive.
“I do,” I say as Doug drops off our entrees.
“I thought you were the mayor,” Harvest says, voice lilting up even though it isn’t a question.
“He’s the principal,” Brie spits, planting her hands on the table.
“Between student teaching and actual teaching jobs, I’ve worked at more than a few different elementary schools, including two nationally-ranked private institutions.
Sawyer runs his school better than any I’ve seen, and he’s universally beloved by everyone there.
The teachers all speak highly of him, and kids go out of their way just to high-five him. He’d be wasted as mayor.”
All I can do is stare as her face turns from impassioned to . . . shocked. I’d bet good money Brie didn’t mean to say those things about me, but the words are out there now.
There are pieces of her I’ve never understood, like how feisty-and-independent Brie always quietly accepted my public torments without a fight.
But this? This makes sense to me. Brie might not be chatty, but when she does open her mouth, she only says what she means. It’s what’s always drawn me to her.
“Wow,” Harvest says, fixing her eyes on me like Brie suddenly doesn’t exist. They’re warm, too warm, as they trace over me. “That’s sooo impressive,” she drawls.
“I forgot how good the mushroom gnudi is,” Brie says a little too jaggedly, eyes shooting invisible lasers at Harvest, who’s all but ignoring her actual date.
“You’ve been here before?” Dev asks her.
I start to laugh. Of course Brie’s eaten here before, it’s one of the few restaurants in town. But Brie ducks her head, color tinting her cheeks.
Dev explains to Harvest, “Brie and I didn’t eat out much growing up.”