He’s probably forgotten I’m even here. And honestly, it’s probably for the best. So long as I have his help if everything goes south and I have to do this on my own, then I should be okay. Everything will be okay.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I tuck the packet of Twizzlers into my purse before fishing out my cell. At half battery, I know better than to waste what’s left, especially because I don’t see an outlet anywhere…and I don’t have a charging cable for it, anyway. But I still check it. There’s no service, and no missed calls or messages. Not from my sister or cousin, and none from Sophia, either.
As much as I don’t want to, I look at Sawyer. The thin material of his t-shirt grows taut over his thick shoulders as he washes a pan in the sink. The way he’s bowed over it makes even more tattoos appear beneath the collar of his shirt.
It is so unfortunate that he is my type. Rob reallywasn’t. He’d been more on the nerdy side, and in the beginning, his sweetness had been a factor in why I’d given him a chance. But that sweetness turned to incompetence way too fast, making him unattractive and us incompatible.
It’s not just looks that draw me to Sawyer. It’s his energy. The safe feeling I have being near him. When he pulled up beside my truck, I almost cried. But then he got my door open, and it was like all the fear disappeared becausehewas there.
Clearing my throat, I carefully push my way out of the armchair by the fire. “You wouldn’t happen to have a satellite phone, would you?” I ask carefully.
Sawyer doesn’t hesitate to look over his shoulder at me. “Not here,” he says, sounding almost disappointed. “I have two, plus a radio for the rangers back at my cabin.”
That might be the most words he’s spoken in the last hour. It shouldn’t make me all warm and fluttery hearing the deep timbre of his voice, the soft growl that seems to live in the back of his throat.
Not only does he smell amazing, but he sounds good, too. That is a terrible combo.
“Shit,” I whisper, scrubbing a hand through my hair.
A furrow appears between his heavy brows as he steps away from the sink, turning the tap off without looking at it. Those dark eyes roam my body for a moment like he’s assessing me for any potential damage—or maybe a sign that he might actually have to help deliver this baby.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, striding towards me with ease. The way he asks the question has my heart skipping a beat, the worry in those words making me feel…honestly, I’m not sure.
It’s the hormones, I tell myself as he comes to a stop in front of me.Just silly little hormones screaming out for the hunky, grumpy mountain man.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “I just wanted to let my sister know I’m okay,” I admit. “So she isn’t worrying about me or baby. And hopefully tell Sophia and Noah we’re fine.”
Something shifts in his eyes as he takes a step back. “Noah will let your sister know you’re okay,” he says evenly, maybe disappointed in my answer. “Food’s ready.”
I frown, watching as he turns his back on me. “Uh, look, I know there’s a stereotype about pregnant women and ourcravings, but I don’t think you could make me eat whatever it is you put together.”
Sawyer keeps his back to me, though for the first time ever, he chuckles.
He actually chuckles.
And it soundsnice. It’s still deep, but it makes my heart flutter again.
“Come on.” He waves a hand, motioning me to join him. And with a sigh, I make my way into the kitchen only to find…
A lot of edible food.
A variety of different dishes cover the counter. I would honestly call it struggle food—there was more than one occasion where a paycheck only covered so much that Vic, Millie, and I needed to make our budgets work through college—but the unappealing food I’m used to isn’t here.
Cheesy beans and rice, a large steaming bowl of ramen with the works, tomato soup and—surprise—grilled cheese, plus two already opened baked potatoes topped with butter.
“How…” I look from the food to him. “You might yet redeem yourself.”
His lips quirk. “I rescued you. That should be redemption enough.”
My stomach tightens with hunger as I take a step towards the tomato soup and grilled cheese. The man must have gotten all of this at the store before rescuing me, because none of this food was in the fridge when we got here.
“You surprise me,” I rectify, giving him a nod. “Thank you.”
He grabs a plate and loads it with a potato, a side of cheesy beans and rice, and a grilled cheese. “Go sit down,” he says without looking at me. “I’ll bring you your food.”
There’s that fluttery feeling again. And this time it’s because he’s taking care of me. I’ve never actually been taken care of—unless you count my best friend or sister, but even then, I’dcount that as loving obligation. This is a man who doesn’t know me, who owes me nothing, and he’s treating me better than Rob ever did.
