“Have you thought about the fact your dads hated each other back in the day?”
I’m starting to regret telling her about that. When I’d called to tell her Sawyer and I were going on a date, I’d also included what I’d learned from my parents after the vendor market. I should’ve known she’d tuck it away for use in a future argument.
A black hawk lands at the top of a pine, perching there as his neck swivels. He’s hunting. “Hardly at all,” I answer Marlowe, my eyes on the predatory bird. “My parents don’t care.”
“What does Sawyer think about it?”
I sigh and look back down at the base of the trees. “I don’t know if he knows.”
“You haven't talked about it?” she screeches, and I pull the phone away from my head. I wait a few seconds, then bring it back to my ear.
“I’m afraid to. With Sawyer, I have to tread lightly. Something happened to him, somewhere along the way. I can see it in his eyes. He wants to kiss me, but he stops himself.”
“You know, that’s something you could ask him about too. Your communication skills are lacking.” Her tone is dry.
“I don’t want to scare him off.” I like Sawyer enough that I’ll take what I can get from him, for now at least. I won’t be patient forever, but I have the capacity to wait a little longer.
"Ri-ght. Can I be honest with you?"
"Were you not being honest this whole time?"
She ignores my question. "You have a tendency to run at life head-on, with your heart leading. You love out loud, and you do big things for the people lucky enough to be loved by you. But," she hesitates, and I think this is where she's about to be painfully honest with me. "I think maybe you've fucked up this time. The Bennetts lived here a long time ago, but they left town suddenly and without explanation. Don't you think there's something more to the story than just bad blood between your dads?"
"I don't know. Maybe," I concede, even though I don't want to. “Have you ever heard that you shouldn't go looking, because you might not like what you’ll find?”
“God, you really are Beau Hayden’s daughter.”
Her playful complaint makes me laugh. “What's done is done, Marlowe. I'm not going to kick him out. I like him, and I like who I am when I’m with him. He let’s me be the person I’m trying to become. You know how important that is to me.”
“Yes, I do. And I’m happy you’ve found someone who can do that for you. I don’t think you would've ever found that by looking in the Sierra Grande dating pool.”
“Definitely not. I need to keep moving forward now. Starting with talking my brother into letting me help on the ranch. I'm not in school anymore, and I don't have a job. If I don't contribute in some way, I'll go crazy out here."
As much as I love this cabin, with its stone columns so much like the homestead and the trees that surround the place, I can't be here all day. I need something to do. I need to work on the ranch the way I want to. I've been reading and researching every spare minute, and I have a lot of value to add to this place.
"I know, Jessie. I know. You love that ranch to the point of absurdity.”
I chuckle softly. Whether it was meant as an insult or a compliment, I'm taking it like a compliment.
We say goodbye and I place the phone back into my pocket. I finish my coffee and go inside.
Sawyer stands at the counter. I watch his profile as he drinks a glass of water. His throat undulates with each gulp, and I wish I could trail my fingers over the stubble darkening his skin. Maybe wind around and push my hand into his silky, dark hair. He is shirtless, wearing only a pair of snug-fitting sweatpants. A sheen of sweat covers his back.
I don't know how to identify by name all the different back muscles, but I know that on Sawyer, they are developed. Big, curved, rising high and dipping low. He is all male, all sexy, all tempting. And so damn closed off.
I could force the conversation and communicate the way Marlowe thinks we should. Ask him to tell me his reservations and move our attraction out into the open. But I get the feeling Sawyer needs to sift through whatever it is on his own. His timeline differs from mine, and I want to respect that.
"Hello," I say, tearing my gaze away. I walk to the sink, placing my coffee cup inside.
"Good morning," he answers. His voice is warm.
I turn to meet his eyes. Sweat beads at his hairline. It helps to distract me from looking at his chest. "Why are you sweaty?" I ask.
"Working out in the living room. I came out here and saw you were on the phone, so I did a quick circuit. I have a session with my trainer today and I like to do a few things to help warm up my muscles and get the blood flowing."
I nod, thinking about all the parts of him where blood could flow. To distract myself, I turn to the fridge and get out everything I need to make breakfast. "Do you work out at the gym in town?"
"There's a boxing gym in Brighton. I like to go there."
