I force myself to temper my reaction even as my heart soars to heights I didn’t know existed.
She goes on. “It’s going to be hard for me. Especially right away. My instinct is to not trust you.”
My heart is on a brutal rollercoaster.
“We can go slow,” I say, voice gruff, and I’m not sure what I even mean by it. The truth is, I mean whatever she’ll give me.
Going slow toward friendship? I’d be happy to have it, even if I’ll always want more.
Going slow toward a relationship? I’m already hers.
Going slow toward forgiveness? The dream.
I pick up the second sheet of plywood. She’s there in an instant, helping me place it just right, then holding it steady.
She picks up where we left off. “Going slow sounds like it could work.”
Clearing my throat, I say, “It’s okay if you want to be just friends, but . . .”
I don’t have to look over to know her attention is fully on me. But that’s great. I want her to hear this. No more beating around the bush. Direct communication.
“I want to date you,” I say. “If you’ll let me, I want to take you out. It doesn’t have to be now, or next week. Just, when you’re ready.” Now that she’s in Blue Ridge, I have nothing but time.
I finish the last screw and chance looking at her, but it’s too dark to see her expression. I can’t read her silence out here, and I start to panic, thinking I already blew my promise to go slow just by asking.
“I might let you,” she says finally, and I think I detect a small smile in her voice.
My shoulders relax.Thank fuck. Then I’m grateful for the dark, because it means she can’t see the goofy grin on my face.
She picks up the nailgun. “Can I try?”
“Definitely.”
I show her how to use it and tell her about the kickback. She goes crazy with it, nailing along the edge with glee. I hold the ladder for her to reach higher.
“All this time,” she says, “I was impressed with your craftsmanship. But, really, it’s just a ton of fun.”
A laugh booms out of me. “It can get monotonous and tedious. But yeah, it’s fun, too.”
When we’re done, I send her inside while I put away the tools. Then head in as high as I’ve ever been. Brie might let me take her out on a date. That’s good enough for now.
Stepping into the cabin, I realize it isreallyfucking cold in here. I start a fire, trying not to imagine all the ways Brie and I could keep each other warm tonight.
We’re going slow, I chastise as I go to take my third shower of the day.
CHAPTER 33
BRIE
Sitting on the floor,curled up by the fire, the familiar buzz of being around Sawyer is still there. I used to blame this feeling on annoyance, frustration, or even trepidation over how he might be setting me up. Now? I feel none of those things. There’s a lightness in my chest just from being here, like I might float right up to the ceiling if it weren’t for this blanket over my shoulders.
The fire crackles beside me like a chatty friend. Sawyer, fresh from the shower, is in the kitchen, moving around so fast I can hardly see what he’s up to. When I asked if I could help, he gave stern instructions to just keep warm. For once, I didn’t question his kindness as I changed into a flannel and boxers and settled by the hearth under a blanket.
He brings a cast iron pan over, carefully placing it in the fireplace to cook the chicken and vegetables nestled inside. He doesn’t have to do this on the fire, but I like that he is. There’s something intimate about it.
My stomach grumbles.
“I heard that,” he says. The firelight casts hisface in reds and golds as he shoots me a teasing smile that cranks my pulse up. “Be right back.”
