He leans back, exhaling. “I think you’d be good for her.”
My pulse jumps.
“Do you think so?” I ask.
“You don’t?”
“I just…don’t want to be a complication.”
His eyes darken.
“Well,” he says slowly, “if you knew what was good for you you’d probably leave this mountain and never look back.”
The warning should cool things but it does the opposite. I swallow, nod, allowing my eyes to track around the room to land anywhere but on him.
“Oh–I forgot to mention–this is a live-in position. You good with that?”
I nearly choke on my tongue. “I…I guess I didn’t realize full-time meant…full-time.”
He nods. Waits.
My mind spirals with a thousand reasons I should not sign up to live with this man for the summer.
When I leave an hour later, job accepted, schedule set, I walk down the porch steps with my head high and my heart pounding.
Because I didn’t just get a job.
I stepped into a fire I’m not sure either of us is ready for.
And something tells me—Sawyer Rivers burns deliciously slow.
Chapter 3
Sawyer
Tessa doesn’t settle into the house.
Shechangesit.
I notice it the first afternoon she’s here alone with Lacee. I come home early from the station—paperwork done faster than expected, nerves pushing me out the door—and the cabin sounds different. Lighter. There’s laughter drifting through the open windows, bright and unguarded, like it forgot it wasn’t supposed to live here anymore.
I pause on the porch.
That sound used to belong to this place. Before the fire. Before the silence.
I step inside and the scent of sugar and butter hits me square in the chest.
Cookies.
Lacee looks up from the counter, cheeks flushed, hair in a messy braid dusted with flour. “Dad! We made dough for chocolate chipandpeanut butter cookies. She says it’s important to have options.”
Tessa stands beside her, hands dusted white, smile easy. Like she’s always belonged in this kitchen. Like she didn’t walk into my life less than forty-eight hours ago and tilt it off its axis.
“Options are important,” I manage.
Her eyes flick to mine. Hold.
Something unspoken passes between us—heat and caution braided tight.
