Granted, reception is all over the place. One little shift on the sofa and I go from three bars to none. And if last winter proved anything, my sister is probably slammed at the hospital. Who knows how many nurses couldn’t make it to their shifts and doctors who had to call out because they got snowed in?
I remember last year, and it was hell.
Sawyer is either oblivious or doesn’t care about my inner turmoil, not as he sets himself up at the dining table to fix…something. I don’t know what he’s tinkering with, but it has him completely engrossed, allowing me to observe him.
His quiet nature should put me off, but it doesn’t. I’m so used to activity that the silence and calm here is nice. It makes me wonder more about this man: his life, his past, his now. Especially after last night and what we talked about.
I’m still mortified over the kiss and talking down about holiday babies, and well, pregnancy brain got the better of me. But it’s also hard to forget the wonder in his eyes when he spoke and baby girl responded. She’s never been much of a mover,usually so calm. And then he started speaking, and it’s like she came alive.
I still don’t understand how he has such an effect not just on her, but on me, too.
I’m a single mother, working my ass off to maintain the job I always dreamed of having, while also preparing to raise a kid alone. Better to be alone than with someone who needs to be raised alongside a child, in my opinion, so it’s not like I miss having a boyfriend.
But last night, it kind of felt like I had someone who could be a partner in all of this.
A breath, frustrated and heavy, falls from my lips as I sit back.
“It’ll be a little longer,” Sawyer says suddenly, his voice low, the grumble sending a shiver down my spine. “But I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
I frown and look over at all the parts strewn across the dining table. “When what’s done?” I ask, contemplating whether I should get up and have a look at whatever he’s doing.
“The satellite phone.” He looks over at me, emotions carefully hidden, save for the flicker of uncertainty in his dark eyes. “So you can call your sister and friend.”
Emotion creates a thick ball in my throat, making it hard to breathe. “Satellite phone?” I repeat, clambering to my feet. “When—how?”
Sawyer watches me, eyes dark, as I waddle over to him. “Went to the other cabins. I have keys,” he explains, tracking me, though he doesn’t move even as I come to a stop beside him. “One of the rangers had a broken one in a cabinet in the kitchen. Another had the tools to fix it. Figured they wouldn’t mind so long as I returned the gear after and explained.”
I blink hard against the tears forming in my eyes. “Well,” I say, clearing my throat. “Thank you.” Even though I try to look atall he’s done to fix the device, I can’t seem to pull my gaze from him.
The mountain man bows his head in a nod. “Get some rest,” he says without looking away. “Let me take care of it.”
It’s those parting words that stick with me as I go for a midday nap. What would it feel like to have someoneelsetake care of it?
What would it feel like to rely on someone as unmoving as Sawyer?
SEVEN
SAWYER
“Icannot believe you did that,” Skye says, grinning so widely it makes dimples appear on her cheeks. “Seriously. Thank you.”
My heart clenches, warming with that strange feeling again. Ducking my head, I try to ignore it, moving to the sink to wash our dinner dishes. “It was no problem.”
“You might say that,” she says, brushing her hand against mine, “but I mean it. Thank you.”
She’s acting like I did something groundbreaking when all I did was fix a broken phone, but maybe to her, it was actually helpful. She spent nearly two hours between her sister at the ER, her best friend up the mountain, and her cousin, who was supposed to be in Denver, but had arrived home in time to pull a shift at the hospital. I hadn’t meant to listen in, but it was hard not to in such a small space.
At least she told them about the cramps from yesterday. That’d been my only concern, and if she hadn’t said anything, I might have called Noah and brought it up to him. It might have been none of my business, and I should know better than to stick my nose into things that didn’t concern me, but…
Skyedoesconcern me.
Maybe it’s the strange protective instincts I can’t seem to escape or the overwhelming desire to just be in her presence, but I’ve made her my concern whether I like it or not. And that’s not an easy feat—or something I can run away from now.
Not with the feeling of her lips still fresh on mine. Not when I can still imagine how it felt to have her so close, to breathe her in, and every reaction she’s pulled out of me since.
I clear my throat, looking down at our hands. She has hers resting gently over mine, not quite committing to the hold, but also not ready to pull away. When I glance up, her eyes are already on me, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of red, bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
All logical thought disappears from my brain as I consider what it might be like to feel those lips again. Would she taste like the Twizzlers she’s been eating without me knowing? Or does she taste like the red sauce from our pasta? I already know she’ll taste like temptation and sin, a combination I’ll get drunk on but know can’t last.
