“You make it sound like an arranged marriage.”
He shrugged. “In a way that’s exactly what it was. Our families have been friends for years. Our dads grew up in the same neighborhood in New Orleans, one of the roughest in the city. They both beat the odds and made a better life for themselves, and they remained best friends through it all. Angelique and I both attended Tulane together. We dated for about a year back in college, and although we knew we weren’t compatible, our dads both thought it was a foregone conclusion that we would eventually marry.
“Her dad was killed in a private plane crash about ten years ago. He never got to see us married. When my dad got sick, we decided to just do it because we knew it would make him happy.”
“You married someone you didn’t love to make your father happy?”
“It worked,” Sawyer said. “At least for the last month or so that he was alive to see it.”
“But you stayed married for three years.”
His brow rose. “You were keeping tabs on me?”
Her expression turned sarcastic. “This is a frighteningly small town, Sawyer. You can’t help but learn other people’s business.”
“Very true,” he said with a humorless laugh.
“So?” she asked. “Why did you stay married if you didn’t love her?”
He hunched his shoulders. “It was convenient. I know that makes us sound like the most unromantic couple in the world, but it’s the truth. Angelique accepted a job with the public defenders office in Chicago at the same time that the Army Corps transferred me to Illinois. We were more like roommates than husband and wife. In the first year or so we were both too busy in our new jobs to recognize what was missing from our lives, but then Angelique met someone who she actually cared for.”
“That sounds...horrible for you,” she said.
“Not really. The day she took me out to dinner to tell me, all I felt was relief. I was happy for her. She’s a good person. She deserved to find someone to make her happy.”
“So do you.”
“That’s why I came back to Gauthier instead of returning to my house in New Orleans,” he said. “But then I discovered that the one person I wanted—the woman I believed could make me happy—had moved away.”
Several moments passed between them. Sawyer pushed away from the beam and walked over to her again.
“You felt something for me that night, Paxton. It may have started out of pity, but that’s not the way it ended. You left because you were as shocked by what we both experienced as I was.” He cupped her chin again. “All I’m asking for is a chance.”
A shuddery breath escaped her lips. She glided her fingers along the nape of his neck, then cradled the back of his head, pulling him closer to her.
“It scares the hell out of me,” she admitted. “But maybe...maybe we can see how it goes. How’s that for taking a chance?”
A subtle smile drew across Sawyer’s lips. “That’s a good start.” His lips drifted across hers. “But this is an even better one.”
* * *
“Exactly why am I helping you make apple butter during my lunch break?” Paxton asked as she plucked another Red Delicious from the bag Shayla had bought at the new farmer’s market in Saint Pierre.
“Because it’s a healthier alternative to regular butter or cream cheese as a spread for pastries,” she said. “I’m thinking of maybe canning it and selling jars at the Jazzy Bean if I can get the recipe just right.”
“That health-conscious menu is still working for you?”
“Absolutely,” her friend said. “Didn’t you see the chart on the community board I keep above the condiment bar? A bunch of my regulars have a fitness contest going on right now. They’re trying to lose a thousand pounds as a group by next year’s Founder’s Day Celebration.” She sent Paxton a cheeky grin. “I would say ‘I told you so’ since you were one of my biggest doubters, but I’m much too nice for that.”
“That is so not fair,” Paxton said. “I never doubted you. It’s the people in this town that I doubted. You know most of them are stuck in their ways.”
“Well, I’m changing their ways one Zumba class at a time,” Shayla said.
When Shayla returned to Gauthier to open her own coffee shop after working in the coffee industry in Seattle for years, Paxton thought it was both bold and brave but also the tiniest bit crazy. And when Shayla decided that the Jazzy Bean would only serve heart-healthy food items, Paxton was certain that her friend’s grand ideas would go down in a blaze of glory.
She had been proven wrong. And she couldn’t be happier about it.
Shayla had turned the Jazzy Bean into the kind of place that people from neighboring towns drove out of their way to visit. Her friend was a marketing genius, which helped tremendously. In addition to great coffee, pastries and café-style food offerings, the Jazzy Bean also hosted Zumba classes three nights a week and live jazz music on the weekends. It was, without a doubt, one of the best success stories to come out of the revitalization of downtown Gauthier.
“I heard the Jazzy Bean was packed last Friday night,” Paxton said. “Did the high school’s jazz ensemble earn enough money for their trip to Washington?”
“They’re getting close,” Shayla said. “They’re going to perform again in a couple of weeks. Oh, did I tell you I landed Simone Thibodaux? She’s debuting her new album at the Jazzy Bean.”
“Seriously?” Paxton said. The performer was the daughter of famed jazz singer Madeline Thibodaux, whose French Quarter jazz club, Maddie’s Spot, had just been named the hottest new club in New Orleans by a local magazine. It was a huge feat for a city with an endless number of hot spots. “Will she be performing before I leave at the end of the month?”
Shayla shook her head. “Nope. You’ll just have to stick around longer.”
“Or I can just go to Maddie’s Spot and see her,” Paxton pointed out.
“But you would be so plagued with guilt for not supporting her show at the Jazzy Bean that you wouldn’t be able to enjoy yourself.”
Paxton’s head flew back with her laugh. “All joking aside, landing Simone Thibodaux is huge. Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”
“Only a dozen times since you’ve been back,” Shayla said. “You’re slipping.”
“Well, I’ll say it again. I am so proud of you. I didn’t think Gauthier was big enough to sustain a coffee shop like the Jazzy Bean, and I am so happy that you’ve proven me wrong.”
“Aww.” Shayla set her paring knife on the counter, ran to Paxton’s side of the kitchen island and wrapped her arms around her. “I haven’t forgiven you for moving to Little Rock, but I’m still proud of the work you’re doing, too.” She gave Paxton an extra squeeze before returning to her side of the counter.
“How is the project going, by the way?” Shayla asked. “You said Sawyer had to go into his office at the Army Corps this afternoon, right? Why didn’t you go with him?”
“It has to do with whatever project he was working on before they transferred him to this one.”
“So, how is yours going?” Shayla asked again.
Paxton released a sigh. “How much truth do you want?”
Shayla’s hand stilled with her paring knife hovering above the red-skinned apple she’d started to peel.
“What’s wrong?” Shayla asked. “You all found something bad, didn’t you? Is all of Gauthier poised to drown during the next big rainstorm?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Be honest with me, Pax. I’ve got a lot invested in this town. So does Xavier. He’s been turning down offers left and right in order to stay here and run the clinic.”
Shayla’s husband, Xavier Wright, was an implant from Atlanta. He’d come to the hospital in Maplesville to work as an ER doctor in conjunction with a p
rogram that supplied medical personnel to underserved areas. During his stint at Maplesville General, Matthew Gauthier had convinced Xavier to volunteer a few hours a week at a clinic that Matt had opened for low-income residents. Shayla had convinced Xavier to stay for life.
“Is Xavier seriously considering other offers?” Paxton asked, suddenly troubled by the thought of Shayla leaving. Which was a bit cheeky on her part, since she was the one who had left first.
Shayla put her mind at ease with a casual wave of her hand. “Not really,” she said. “He gets them, but he’s more than settled where he is. Besides, he could never leave Kristi and Cass.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Paxton said. “What Xavier does helps a lot of people here. And you don’t have to worry about Gauthier drowning in a flood. We’re going to get that system in place in time.”
“So, what’s the issue?”
“Do you remember those flood maps I mentioned Monday?” Paxton asked.
“The ones Sawyer thought were outdated?”
Paxton nodded. “The rest of the team at Bolt-Myer agreed that we need to study the topography of the landscape before we move forward. Thankfully, it won’t set us back too much schedule-wise, but this will be the first project I’ve ever managed that will come in behind schedule.”
“Maybe you all can make up for lost time on the back end,” Shayla said. “Although coming in a little late doesn’t sound like a big deal if it means the flood protection system will be done right. It needs to be done right.”
With a sly smile tilting up the corner of her mouth as she mixed up a pungent combination of ground cloves and nutmeg, Shayla asked, “So how have other things been going?”
“Meaning?”
She picked up the paring knife and pointed it at Paxton. “Don’t you play dumb with me, girl. I know there has to be something going on. I could have baked croissants with the heat I felt between you and Sawyer on Monday. I want the dirt.”
Paxton closed her eyes and released a frustrated sigh. “He has me climbing the walls.”
“Hold. Up!” Shayla shrieked. “He has you climbing the walls or he has you up against the walls, as in...you know.”
Paxton opened her eyes and rolled them so hard at her best friend that she nearly gave herself a headache.
“Okay, okay, no having you up against the wall yet, but it sounds like progress is being made. It’s about time,” Shayla said, going back to her apple peeling. “I knew Sawyer would step up his game now that he’s got you in that tiny conference room all day.”
Paxton pushed the bowl to the side and dropped her head onto the silicon cutting board. She thumped it several times, groaning like a wounded animal.
She finally looked up at Shayla and said in a pathetically annoying voice that she only used when at her whiniest, “I don’t know what to do.”
“First thing to do is get this piece of apple from the middle of your forehead.” Shayla reached over and plucked the apple away. “And what’s so hard for you to figure out? Sawyer is a great catch, Pax. In fact, if you asked just about any single woman in town, he’s the catch.”
“You’ve been knowing me for how long now?” Paxton asked, her brow arching. “You haven’t figured out yet that I’m not like the other single women in this town and never have been?”
It was Shayla’s turn to indulge in the frustrated sigh, but of course hers was twice as dramatic.
“Forgive me, I forgot you’re Miss I Don’t Need a Man on My Arm.”
“Actually, Miss Independent is a shorter and much more accurate description.”
“Whatever,” Shayla said. “But even Miss Independent has to admit there are worse things than having the hots for Sawyer Robertson, especially after you finally realized that he’s had the hots for you all this time.” Shayla shook her head. “I still can’t believe you didn’t know.”
“Can we stop talking about how clueless I am for a moment?”
“If you want my opinion,” Shayla said, speaking right over her. “You need to stop holding out and get you some. It’s good for the complexion. See?” She ran her hand along her jaw as if she were showcasing a prize on The Price Is Right.
“Thanks for the advice, but I get quite enough to keep my skin clear,” Paxton argued.
“Uh, I don’t think so. Your coworker in Little Rock doesn’t count. That was months ago, and you told me that you nearly fell asleep in the middle of it.”
Paxton grimaced. “I tell you too much about my sex life.”
“True, which is how I know that you haven’t gotten any in a while.”
“I—”
Shayla held up a finger. “Vibrators don’t count.”
“Depends on the brand you use,” Paxton countered, sticking her tongue out at her.
“Would you just admit it already,” Shayla said. “You’re at least a little curious about what Sawyer has to offer when the lights go out. You have to be.”
Actually, she wasn’t curious. She didn’t have to be because she already knew exactly what Sawyer had to offer. They’d done it with the lights on.
Paxton was not looking forward to Shayla going ballistic over her keeping her one-night stand with Sawyer a secret from her. The thought sent an unsettling barrage of questions parading through her mind.
Why hadn’t she told Shayla about Sawyer? The two of them had shared details about every single guy they had ever been with—even the questionable characters they’d given their goodies to during their wild college years. But when it came to that one night with Sawyer, Paxton just couldn’t bring herself to share it.
Shayla reached over and tapped her on the arm. “Just remember what I said before. Sawyer is one of the good guys. Don’t let your typical hang-ups get in the way of it this time. Give him a chance.”
“What are my typical hang-ups?” Paxton asked, a fair amount of affront in her voice.
Shayla didn’t hesitate to point them out.
“You believe everyone judges you because of how you grew up, so you turn around and judge them. Usually unfairly. And especially when it comes to Sawyer. You’ve always unfairly judged him.”
“Wow,” Paxton said with a snort. “Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.”
“I finally am,” Shayla said. “I should have told you long before this, because I love you like a sister. Like a damn twin.” Shayla covered her forearm again. “No one cares that you grew up in a trailer behind Harlon’s Bar. No one cares that the jerk who provided the other half of your DNA never claimed you as his. None of that matters, Pax. It definitely doesn’t matter to Sawyer. It never has.”
Paxton pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I just... I don’t know,” she said. “These last couple of days have been really good, Shayla. I’m just not used to this.”
“Not used to what?”
“Being with a guy like this. Just hanging out together, getting to know each other. Did you know he was awarded the highest honor that a civilian can be honored with by the Army Corps for his work after Hurricane Katrina? And he donated a huge amount of money to the animal shelter. Oh, and back when he first moved to New Orleans after he finished college, he started mentoring two young boys at a school in the Ninth Ward. Those two boys just finished college this year. One is even going to medical school.”
“Sounds like the two of you are getting to know each other. And you now see the kind of man Sawyer is, right?”
“I do,” Paxton said, still nervously pulling on her lower lip. “I just don’t know what to do with any of this.” She looked up at Shayla. “I’m not used to it being so easy. I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Forget the other shoe! Sometimes it really is this easy, Pax. Not every guy is a jerk. And Sawyer has never been that kind of guy, even though all the ingredients are
there. He’s rich and popular and could be the biggest jerk ever, but he has always had this huge heart.”
“So maybe I should just see where this leads?”
“Hell yes!” Shayla said. “No more questioning it. Just go with it. Let that man take you up against the wall so you can come back and tell me all about it.” Shayla pointed the paring knife at her again. “And you better tell me as soon as the orgasm wears off, or I swear I’ll cut you.”
“I really do tell you too much about my damn sex life.” Paxton reached for another apple, but Shayla snatched the bowl out of her way. “Hey, give that back. I’m here to help you, remember?”
“You take off too much flesh when you peel. The whole helping me make apple butter thing was only a ruse to get you here, anyway.”
Paxton’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of no good are you up to, devil woman?”
“Come to the game tonight,” Shayla said.
Paxton put her hands up and slid from the stool. “Forget it.”
“Oh, come on, Pax. It’ll be fun.”
“What is with this town and high school football games?”
“The same thing that’s with every small Southern town when it comes to Friday night high school football. It’s a religion. And don’t use your mom’s place as an excuse. Most of the town will be at the game. Belinda and Jessie will be able to handle the handful of people who might drop in at the bar. If you want, you can even leave at the end of the third quarter so you can get to the bar in time to help with the postgame rush.”
“Wanting to help out at the bar has nothing to do with why I don’t want to go to the game,” Paxton said. “It’s not my thing, Shayla. It never has been.”
“Because you never gave it a chance back in high school. It’s going to be fun.”
Paxton slanted her friend a look. “For who?”
“Please,” Shayla said. “Do it for me?”
“Ugh,” she grunted. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“But you love me, anyway.” Shayla blew her a kiss. “Meet me back here at seven. We’ll ride together.”
Stay with Me Forever Page 12
