Читать книгу Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer - Lori Foster - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

SAWYER TAPPED on the door and then walked in. Honey was in the bed, her head turned to the window. She seemed very pensive, but she glanced at him as he entered. He saw her face perk up at the sight of the tray he carried.

Grinning, he asked, “So you’re hungry?”

She slid higher in the bed. “Actually…yes. What have you got there?”

He set the tray holding the coffee and other dishes on the dresser and carried another to her, opening the small legs on the tray so it fit over her lap. “Gabe had just pulled some cinnamon rolls from the oven, so they’re still hot. I thought you might like some.”

“Gabe cooks?”

Sawyer handed her the coffee, then watched to make sure it was to her liking. Judging by the look of rapture on her face as she sipped, it was just right. “We all cook. As my mom is fond of saying, she didn’t raise no dummies. If a man can’t cook, especially in a household devoid of women, he goes hungry.”

She’d finished half the cup of coffee right off so he refilled her cup, adding more sugar and cream, then gave her a plate with a roll on it. The icing had oozed over the side of the roll, and she quickly scooped up a fingerful, then moaned in pleasure as she licked her finger clean.

Sawyer stilled, watching her and suffering erotic images that leaped into his tired, overtaxed brain. His reactions to her were getting way out of hand. Of course, they’d been out of hand since he’d first seen her. And last night, when she kept kicking the covers away, he’d almost gone nuts. Pinning them down with his feet had been a form of desperate self-preservation.

He hadn’t had such a volatile reaction to a woman in too many years to count. No, he’d never been entirely celibate, but he had always been detached. Now, with this woman who remained more a stranger than otherwise, he already felt far too involved.

He cleared his throat, enthralled by the appreciative way she savored the roll. “Good?”

“Mmm. Very. Give my regards to the chef.”

She sounded so sincere, he almost laughed. “It’s just a package that you bake. But Gabe really can do some great cooking when he’s in the mood. Usually everyone around here grabs a snack first thing in the morning, then around eight they hit Ceily’s diner and get breakfast.”

“If they can cook, why not eat here?”

He liked it that she was more talkative today, and apparently more at ease. “Well, let’s see. Gabe goes to town because that’s what he always does. He sort of just hangs out.”

Her brows raised. “All the time?”

With a shrug, he admitted, “That’s Gabe. He’s a handyman extraordinaire—his title, not mine—so he’s never without cash. Someone’s always calling on him to fix something, and there’s really nothing he can’t fix.” Including her car, though Sawyer hadn’t asked him to fix it. Not yet. “He keeps busy when he wants. And when he doesn’t, he’s at the lake, lolling in the sun like a big fish.”

Gabe stuck his head in the door to say, “I resent that. I bask, I do not loll. That makes me sound lazy.”

Sawyer saw Honey gulp the bite in her mouth and almost choke as she glanced up at his brother. As a concession to their guest, Gabe had pulled on frayed jean shorts rather than walking around in his underwear. He hoped Jordan and Morgan remembered to do the same. They each had more than enough female companionship, but never overnight at the house, so they were unused to waking with a woman in residence.

Gabe hadn’t shaved yet, and though he had on a shirt, it wasn’t buttoned so his chest was mostly bare. Sawyer shook his head at his disreputable appearance. “You are lazy, Gabe.”

Gabe smiled at Honey. “He’s just jealous because he has so much responsibility.” Then to Sawyer, “Now, if I was truly lazy, would I plan on fixing the leak in your office sink this morning?”

Sawyer hesitated, pleased, then took a sip of coffee before nodding. “Yeah, you would, considering you can’t go to the lake because it’s raining.”

“Not true. The best fishing is done in the rain.”

He couldn’t debate that. “Are you really going to fix the sink?”

“Sure. You said it’s leaking under the cabinet?”

Sawyer started to explain the exact location of the leak, but Honey interrupted, asking, “Where is his office?”

Gabe hitched his head toward the end of the hallway. “At the back of the house. He and my dad built it on there after he got his degree and opened up his own practice. ’Course, I helped because Sawyer is downright pathetic with a hammer. He can put in tiny stitches, but he has a hell of a time hitting a nail or cutting a board straight.”

Honey carefully set down her last bite of roll. “Your dad?”

“Yep. He’s not a military man, like Sawyer’s dad was, but he is a pretty good handyman, just not as good as me.”

Standing, Sawyer headed toward Gabe, forcing him to back out of the doorway. He could see the questions and the confusion on Honey’s face, but it was far too early for him to go into long explanations on his family history. “Go on and let her drink her coffee in peace.”

Gabe put on an innocent face, but laughter shone in his eyes. “I wasn’t bothering her!”

“You were flirting.”

“Not that she noticed.” He grinned shamefully. “She was too busy watching you.”

That sounded intriguing—not that he intended to dwell on it or to do anything about it. Likely she watched him because he was the one most responsible for her. “I’ll be at the office after I’ve showered and gotten dressed.”

“All right. I’ll go get my tools together.”

Sawyer stepped back into the room and shut the door, then leaned against it. Just as Gabe had mentioned, Honey watched him, her blue eyes wide and wary. He nodded at her unfinished roll. “You done?”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the plate as if just remembering it was there. “Yes.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin he’d provided and patted her mouth. “Thank you. That was delicious. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry.”

Eating less than one cinnamon roll qualified as hungry? He grunted. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Her continued formality and good manners tickled him. Here she was, bundled up in his bed, naked except for his son’s jersey, and with every other word she said please. She still sounded like a rusty nail on concrete, but she didn’t look as tense as she had last night. Probably the need for sleep had been more dire than anything else. As he refilled her cup, emptying the carafe, he said, “I have spare toothbrushes in my office. If you’d like, I can give you one. I’d go get yours, but I’m not sure which box it’s in.”

“I’m not sure, either.”

“Okay, then. I’ll fetch you one in a bit.” He finished his own coffee while leaning on the dresser, looking at her. “Before I start getting ready for my day, you want to tell me who you are?”

She went so still, it alarmed him. He set down his empty cup and folded his arms over his chest. “Well?”

“I think,” she muttered, not quite meeting his gaze, “that it’ll be simpler all around if I don’t involve you.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Trust a man I’ve known one day?”

“Why not? I haven’t done anything to hurt you, have I?”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just…Sawyer, I can’t stay here. I don’t want to endanger you or your son or your brothers.”

That was so ludicrous he laughed. And her lack of trust, regardless of the time limits, unreasonably annoyed him. “So you think one little scrawny woman is better able to defend herself than four men and a strapping fifteen-year-old?”

Her mouth firmed at his sarcasm. “I don’t intend to get into a physical battle.”

“No? You’re going to just keep running from whatever the hell it is you’re running from?”

“That’s none of your business,” she insisted.

His jaw clenched. “Maybe not, but it would sure simplify the hell out of things if you stopped being so secretive.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. Sawyer felt like a bully. Just because she’d sat up and eaten a little didn’t mean she was up to much more than that. He sighed in disgust—at himself and her—then pushed away from the dresser to remove the tray from her lap.

She glanced at him nervously. “I…I don’t mean to make this more difficult.”

He kept his back to her, not wanting her to see his frown. “I realize that. But you’re going to have to tell me something sooner or later.”

A heavy hesitation filled the air. Then he heard her draw in her breath. “No, I don’t. My plans don’t concern you.”

Everything in him fought against the truth of her words. “You landed in my lake.”

“And I offered to pay for the damages.”

He turned to face her, his muscles tense. “Forget the damn damages. I’m not worried about that.”

She looked sad and resolute. “But payment for the damages is all I owe you. I didn’t ask to be brought here. I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You got it anyway.” He stalked close again, unable to keep the distance between them. “No respectable man would leave a sick, frightened woman alone in a rainstorm. Especially a woman who was panicked and damn near delusional.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You slugged my son. You were afraid of me.”

She winced again, then worried her bottom lip between her teeth. His heart nearly melted, and that angered him more than anything else. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. “Honey, you can trust me. You can trust us.” She didn’t quite meet his gaze, staring instead at his throat. “The best thing now is to tell me what’s going on so I know what to expect.”

She looked haunted as her gaze met his, but she also looked strong, and he wasn’t surprised when she whispered, “Or I can leave.”

They stared at each other, a struggle of wills, and with a soft oath Sawyer stood and paced away. Maybe he was pushing too fast. She needed time to reason things through. He’d wear her down, little by little. And if that didn’t work, he’d have Morgan start an investigation—whether she liked it or not.

One thing was certain. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he knew it was safe.

With his back to her, his hands braced on the dresser, he said, “Not yet.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

“Wanna bet?” He felt like a bastard, but his gut instincts urged him to keep her close regardless of her insistence. “Morgan is the town sheriff, and he heard everything you said. If nothing else, he’d want to keep you around for questioning. I’m willing to give you some time. But until you’re ready to explain, you’re not going anywhere.”

He could feel her staring at his back, feel the heat of her anger. She wasn’t nearly so frail as he’d first thought, and she had more gumption than the damn old mule Jordan kept out in the pasture.

Despite the raspiness of her voice, he heard her disdain when she muttered, “And you wanted me to trust you.”

His hand fisted on the dresser, but he refused to take the bait. He pulled open a drawer and got out a pair of shorts, saying over his shoulder, “I need to shower and get dressed before patients start showing up. Why don’t you just go on back to sleep for a spell? Maybe things’ll look a little different this afternoon.”

He saw her reflection in the mirror, the way her eyes were already closing, shutting him out. He wanted to say something more, but he couldn’t. So instead he walked away, and he closed the door behind him very softly.

SHESLEPT the better part of the day. After taking more medicine and cleaning up as much as she could using the toothbrush he provided and the masculine-scented soap in the bathroom, she simply konked out. One minute she’d been disgruntled because he was rushing her back to bed, and the next she was sound asleep. Sawyer roused her once to take more ibuprofen and sip more water, but she barely stirred enough to follow his directions. He held her head up with one hand, aware of the silkiness of her heavy hair and the dreamy look in her sleepy eyes. She smiled at him, too groggy to remember her anger.

Fortunately for him, since he couldn’t stay by her side, she hadn’t kicked off her blankets again. He’d worried about it, and gone back and forth from his office to her room several times during the day, unable to stay away. After Casey had finished up his chores, he promised to stay close in case she called out.

She hadn’t had any lunch, and it was now nearing dinnertime. When Sawyer entered the room, he saw his son sitting on the patio through the French doors. He had the small cat with him that Jordan had brought home. Using a string, he enticed the cat to pounce and jump and roll.

This time Honey was on her back, both arms flung over her head. He could see her legs were open beneath the covers. She was sprawled out, taking up as much room as her small body could in the full-size bed. In his experience, most women slept curled up, like a cat, but not Honey. A man would need a king-size bed to accommodate her.

He was still smiling when he stepped outside with Casey. “She been sleeping okay?”

“Like the dead.” Casey glanced up at him, then yelped when the cat attacked his ankle. “She looks like someone knocked her out, doesn’t she? I’ve never seen anyone sleep so hard. The cat got loose and jumped up on the bed and before I could catch her, she’d been up one side and down the other, but the woman never so much as moved.”

“She’s a sound sleeper, and I think she was pretty exhausted, besides. Thanks for keeping a watch on her.”

Sawyer saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. Honey was propped up on one elbow, her hair hanging forward around her face, her eyes squinted at the late-afternoon sunshine. Most of the day it had continued to drizzle, and now that the sun was out, the day was so humid you could barely draw a deep breath.

Honey looked vaguely confused, so he went in to her. Casey followed with the cat trailing behind.

“Hello, sleepyhead.”

She looked around as if reorienting herself. The small cat made an agile leap onto the bed, then settled herself in a semicircle at the end of Honey’s feet, tucking her bandaged tail in tight to sleep. Honey stared at the cat as if she’d never seen one before. “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock. You missed lunch, but dinner will be ready soon.”

Casey stepped forward to retrieve the new pet, but Honey shook her head. “She’s okay there. I don’t mind sharing the bed.”

Casey smiled at her. They all loved and accepted animals, thanks to Jordan, and it pleased his son that their guest appeared to be of a similar mind. “You want something to drink?”

She thought about that for a moment, then finally nodded. “Yes, please.”

Sawyer was amused by her sluggish responses and said, “Make it orange juice, Case.”

“Sure thing.”

Once Casey was gone, Sawyer studied her. She yawned hugely behind her hand, then apologized.

“I can’t believe I slept so long.”

He resisted the urge to say, I told you so, and stuck to the facts instead. “You’ve got bronchitis, which can take a lot out of you, not to mention you’re just getting over a concussion. Sleep is the best thing for you.”

She sat back and tucked the covers around her waist. After a second, she said, “I’m sorry about arguing with you earlier. I know you mean well.”

“But you don’t trust me?”

She shrugged. “Trust is a hard thing. I’m not generally the best judge of character.”

This sounded interesting, so he pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable. “How so?”

She gave him a wary look, but was saved from answering when Casey came back in. He handed her the glass of iced orange juice and a napkin.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He turned to Sawyer. “I’m going to go down and do some more work on the fence.”

“Only for about an hour. Dinner will be ready by then.”

“All right.”

As Casey started out, Honey quickly set her glass aside and lifted a hand. “Casey!”

He turned, his look questioning.

“I noticed your shoulders are getting a little red. Have you been out in the sun much lately?”

“Uh…” He glanced at his father, then back to Honey. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve been outside, but there hasn’t really been much sun till just a bit ago.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but you should really put on a shirt or something. Or at least some sunscreen. You don’t want to burn.”

Sawyer frowned at her, then looked at Casey. Sure enough, there was too much color on his son’s wide shoulders and back. Casey looked, too, then grimaced. “I guess it was so cloudy today, I didn’t think about it.”

She looked prim as she lectured. “You can burn even through the clouds. I guess because I’m so fair, I’m especially conscious of the sun. But I’d hate to see you damage your skin.”

Casey stared at her, looking totally dumbfounded. Too much sunshine was probably the last thing the average fifteen-year-old would have on his mind. “I’ll, uh…I’ll put some sunscreen on. Thanks.”

Sawyer added, “And a shirt, Case.”

“Yeah, okay.” He hurried out before he drew any more attention.

Sawyer looked at Honey. She was smiling, and she looked so sweet, she took his breath away. He didn’t like her interference with his son, but since she was right this time, he couldn’t very well lecture her on it.

“You have a wonderful son.”

He certainly thought so. “Thank you.”

“He doesn’t really look like you. Does he take after his mother?”

“No.”

She looked startled by his abrupt answer, and Sawyer wished he could reach his own ass to kick it. He didn’t want her starting in on questions he didn’t want to answer, but his attitude, if he didn’t temper it, would prompt her to do just that.

“I got your clothes washed. If you’re feeling up to a bath, we can get that taken care of before dinner, then you can change.” Not that he wanted her trussed up in lots of clothes when she looked so enticing wearing what she had on. But he knew it’d be safer for his peace of mind if she at least had panties on.

Except that he’d already seen the tiny scrap of peach silk she considered underwear, and knowing she wore that might be worse than knowing she was bare, sort of like very sweet icing on a luscious cake.

Luckily he’d done the laundry while no one else was around. He didn’t want his brothers envisioning her in the feminine, sexy underwear. But he knew they would have if they’d seen it. He could barely get the thought out of his mind.

“I’m definitely up for a bath. I feel downright grungy.”

She looked far from grungy, but he kept that opinion to himself. “We’ll use the hall bath. Morgan’s room opens into it, but he isn’t home yet. I think he’s on a date. And Gabe only uses the shower in the basement.”

Her eyes widened. “Good grief. How many bathrooms do you have?”

She looked confused again, and he grinned. “As many as I have brothers, I guess. Little by little we added on as everyone grew up and needed more room.”

“It’s amazing you all still live together.”

He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “My father left us the house, and my mom moved to Florida after Gabe graduated. Morgan stays here in the main house with me and Case, but he’s building his own place on the south end of the property. It should be done by the end of the summer.”

“How much property do you have?”

“Around fifty acres. Most of it’s unused and heavily treed, just there for privacy, or if any other family decides to build on it. Morgan’ll have his own acreage, but still be close enough, which is the way we all like it. Jordan’s settled into the garage. He converted it to an apartment when he was around twenty because he’s something of a loner, more so than the rest of us, but with his college bills, he couldn’t really afford to move completely out on his own. Now he could, of course, since there’s even more call for a vet in these parts than there is for a doctor, but he’s already settled. And Gabe has the basement, which runs the entire length of the house. He’s got it fixed up down there real nice, with his own kitchen and bath and living room, and his own entrance, though he usually just comes through the house unless he’s sneaking a girl in.”

“He’s not allowed to have women over?”

“Not for the night, but that’s not really a rule or anything now, just something my mother started back when Gabe was younger and kept trying it.” Sawyer grinned, remembering how often he and his brothers used to get in trouble. “Gabe has always attracted women, and sometimes I think he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. Dragging one home for my mother to get rid of seemed to be a favorite plan of his.”

Honey chuckled, and he could tell by her expression she didn’t know he was serious. He grinned, too. She’d get to know Gabe better, then she’d realize the truth.

“Keeping women out is just something that we’ve all stuck to. Especially with Casey around. He’s old enough now not to be influenced, but he was always a nosy kid, so you couldn’t do much without him knowing. He has a healthy understanding of sex, but I didn’t want him to be cavalier about it.”

She pulled her knees up and rested her crossed arms on them. Smiling, she said, “I guess your wife wouldn’t have liked it much, either, if a lot of women had been in and out of the house.”

Annoyance brought him to his feet, and he paced to the French doors. The topic shouldn’t be a touchy one, and usually wasn’t. But Honey didn’t know all the circumstances, all the background. He said simply, “My wife never lived in this house.”

She didn’t reply to that, but he knew she now felt awkward when that hadn’t been his intention. He glanced over his shoulder, saw her worried gaze and grimaced at his own idiocy. He’d opened a can of worms with that confession, and he didn’t know why. He never discussed his ex-wife with anyone except his family, and then only rarely.

“I got divorced while I was still in medical school. In fact, just a month after Casey was born. She was still pretty young and foolish and she wasn’t quite up to being a mother. So I took complete custody. My mother and Gabe’s father really helped me out with him until I could get through medical school. Actually, everybody helped. Morgan was around nineteen, Jordan fifteen and Gabe twelve. In a lot of ways, Gabe and Casey are like brothers.”

She looked fascinated, almost hungry for more information. He walked over to her and sat again. “What about you? You have much family?”

“No.” She looked away, then made a face. “There’s only my father and my sister. My mother passed away when I was young.”

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t imagine how he’d have gotten through life without his mother. She was the backbone of the family, the strongest person he knew and the most loving.

Honey shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I’m not very close with my father, but my sister and I are.”

“How old’s your sister?”

“Twenty-four.”

“How old are you?”

She looked at him suspiciously, as if he’d asked for her Social Security number. After a long hesitation, she admitted, “I’m twenty-five.”

He whistled. “Must have been rough for your father, two kids so close in age and your mother gone.”

She waved that away. “He hired in a lot of help.”

“What kind of help?”

“You know, nannies, cooks, tutors, pretty much everything. My father spent a lot of time at work.”

“Didn’t he do anything with you himself?”

She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “Not a lot. Dad wasn’t exactly thrilled to have daughters. I think that’s what he hated most about Mother dying—she hadn’t given him a son yet. He thought about remarrying a lot, but he was so busy with his business, and he worried that someone would divorce him and get part of it. He was a little paranoid that way.”

Sawyer looked her over, searching her face, seeing the signs of strain. She’d put up a brave front, but he could see the hurt in her blue eyes and knew there was a lot about her life that hadn’t always been satisfactory. “Sounds like a hell of a childhood you had.”

Color washed over her cheeks, and she ducked her face. “I didn’t mean to complain. We had a lot more than most kids ever do, so it wasn’t bad.”

Except it didn’t sound like she’d had a lot of love or affection or even attention. Sawyer had always appreciated his family, their support, the closeness, but now he realized just how special those things were. They came without strings, without restriction or embarrassment, and were unconditional.

She was still looking bashful over the whole subject, so he decided to let it drop. At least for now. “I guess if you’re going to take that bath, we should get on with it or you’ll miss dinner. And Jordan really outdid himself tonight for you.”

“Now Jordan’s cooking?”

He shrugged. “We take turns. Nothing fancy. I told him to make it light since I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to. He’s got chicken and noodles in the Crock-Pot, and fresh bread out of the bread machine.”

She shook her head. “Amazing. Men who cook.”

Laughing, Sawyer reached for her and helped her out of the bed. She clutched at the top blanket, dragging it off the mattress and disturbing the cat, who looked very put out over the whole thing. Honey apologized to the animal, who gave her a dismissive look and recurled herself to sleep.

“You’ll have cat hair in the bed.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s your bed.”

“You’re sleeping in it.”

They stared at each other for a taut, electric moment, then Honey looked away. Her hands shook as she busied herself by wrapping the blanket over and around her shoulders. It dragged the ground, even hiding her feet.

He supposed that was best; even though the jersey covered her from shoulders to knees, he didn’t want his brothers ogling her—and they would. They were every bit as aware of an attractive woman as Sawyer, and Honey, in his opinion, was certainly more attractive than most. His brothers might not comment on the sexy picture she made with her hair disheveled, her feet bare and her slender body draped in an overlarge male shirt, but they’d notice.

She seemed steadier now, but he kept his right arm around her and held her elbow with his left hand, just in case. She was firmly in his embrace, and he liked it.

To get his mind off lusty thoughts and back on the subject at hand, he asked, “Don’t you know any men who cook?”

She sent him an incredulous look. “My father’s never even made his own coffee. I doubt he’d know how. And my fiancé took it for granted that cooking was a woman’s job.”

They’d almost reached the door, and Sawyer stopped dead in his tracks. His heart punched against his ribs; his thighs tightened. Without even realizing it, his hands gripped her hard as he turned her to face him. “You have a fiancé?”

Her eyes widened. The way he held her, practically on her tiptoes, pulled her off balance, and she braced her palms flat against his chest. He saw her pupils dilate as awareness of their positions sank in. “Sawyer…”

Her voice was a whisper, and he barely heard her over the roaring in his ears. He pulled her a little closer still, until her body was flush against his and her heartbeat mingled with his own. “Answer me, dammit. Are you engaged?”

She didn’t look frightened by his barbaric manner, which was a good thing since he couldn’t seem to get himself in hand. That word fiancé was bouncing off his brain with all the subtlety of a bass drum. If she was going to be married soon…

“Not…not anymore.”

“What?” He was so rattled, he wasn’t at all sure he understood.

“I’m not engaged, not anymore.”

Something turbulent and dangerous inside him settled, but in its place was a sudden blast of violent heat, an awareness of how much her answer had mattered to him.

He looked down at her mouth, saw her parted lips tremble, and he went right over the edge. He leaned down until he could feel her warm breath on his mouth, fast and low, and the vibrancy of her expectation, her own awareness.

And then he kissed her.