Act Like You Love Me (An Accidentally in Love Novel) (Entangled: Bliss)

by Madsen, Cindi

  “It’s just that…” She glanced away, and then her gaze came back to him. She let out a long breath. “Anyone could walk in at any time. My reputation in the community theater is important, and Wendy could come back any minute. And by the way, weren’t you supposed to be helping her?”

  Damn it. He’d gotten carried away and forgot his aunt was waiting for him. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.” He started toward the door and then turned around. “Hey, don’t worry. I get it. No kissing in the theater.”

  “Thanks.” One corner of her mouth twisted up. “And now I’m thanking you for not kissing me.” Her eyes met his, an emotion he couldn’t name in them that didn’t quite match the amusement in her voice.

  “Yeah, kinda adds to that complex you’re set on giving me.”

  Brynn gave a casual shrug. “And here I thought I was being subtle about trying to take your ego down a few notches.”

  Now they were joking again, the tension leaked from his body, and all he could think about was kissing her. If that wasn’t a possibility at the theater, the solution was to get her out of here as soon as possible. “After this, I have to go pick up a few things for the house. I was thinking… It’d be nice to have help choosing fixtures and paint. Make sure everything matches and that kind of thing. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Wow. Not only was he babbling, but he was also asking her to go pick out home improvement supplies with him. It was a sorry excuse for a date, not to mention something one would do with someone he was moving in with. All he knew was he needed to pick up supplies while he was in Charlotte, and he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow after rehearsal to see Brynn again.

  “Sure.” She shot him a grin that had his mind back in the gutter. “But you’ll owe me.”

  Wanting to get this part of the evening over with, Sawyer hurried outside, where Aunt Wendy was still digging items out of her car.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying the play,” she said. “I knew you’d get into it if you gave it a chance.” She turned to him, a giant hat with lots of pink flowers in her hand and a garment bag hanging over her other arm. “See, there’s culture here, same as New York. You can find plenty of inspiration, plus life goes at a slower pace.”

  Sawyer suspected Mom had enlisted his aunt’s help talking him into staying. “It is nice here, and it’s definitely more relaxed…” He was going to start with the buts, but he figured it wouldn’t matter. Wendy would keep listing reasons to stay, and he didn’t want to argue with her, the way he had with Mom yesterday morning.

  Come to think of it, though, maybe he should stick around just a little longer. Another couple of weeks wouldn’t kill him. It’d make Mom happy.

  He told himself that the thought had nothing to do with a certain girl next door.

  Chapter Ten

  “See,” Brynn said, shooting Sawyer a big smile that lit up her eyes. He was too busy looking at her to see. She had her dark hair piled in a bun and several strands had come loose around her face. He’d never thought of a woman’s neck as sexy before, but Brynn had a sexy neck. A sexy everything, really.

  She stuck her fist on her hip. “Are you even paying attention?”

  He finished tearing the plastic off the new paint roller and set it on the recently finished granite-topped counter. “I’m paying attention, just not to the paint.”

  A flush spread up the neck he’d been admiring, into her cheeks, and happiness radiated through his chest. He’d spent the last week watching Brynn on the stage, counting down to the moment when he could call rehearsal and be alone with her. She made the most random yet charming comments and was completely unlike any girl he’d ever dated. There were still times he’d say something that would make her intoxicating smile fade from her face. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. And every time he asked, she just said, “Nothing,” and proceeded to pull away.

  But now she was here in his house, ready to help him paint, and everything felt right with the world. He walked over to her, slipped his arms around her waist, and kissed her. Her soft lips opened under his, and he considered telling her to forget about painting.

  She pulled back a couple of inches and tilted her head toward the wall. “Tell me I was right.”

  He took in the chocolate-milk-colored section of paint, and how it looked next to the espresso wood cabinets and the pale hardwood floors. When he’d asked for her help picking paint colors and that was what she’d chosen, he didn’t know if it was going to go together. But he’d gotten the paint anyway, because, well, she seemed so excited about it.

  He twisted her so that her back was against his chest and tucked his head on her shoulder. “You were right.” He wasn’t just saying it, either. “It ties in the cabinets and floor and gives the whole room a warm feel.”

  “It makes me think that when you get settled in, you should bake me something chocolate in your kitchen.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Hint, hint.”

  He smiled, but then it hit him. He’d mentioned the possibility of going to California, but he’d never clarified his stay here was only temporary, had he? That this wasn’t his house, and his life was somewhere else.

  He should tell her.

  “So…” She spun around and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Does that mean I’ve got the green light to keep going?”

  He tapped her nose. “Go crazy.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek that was more attack than kiss, a quick smash of her lips that made him laugh, and then poured more of the pale brown paint into the tray and picked up the roller brush. He took the other and they stood side by side, the breeze off the lake blowing in through the open doors of the patio.

  Brynn started humming, and he wondered if she even knew she was doing it.

  Sawyer stretched to reach the spot near the top. “Usually I don’t get to see you in the day. You’re even perkier than at night, and I didn’t know that was possible.” Yes, she was beyond perky this morning, but he was also fishing for information. He’d tried to get her to do things with him during the day before, but she always said she couldn’t and then quickly changed the subject.

  She grinned at him. “I like painting. Seeing the transformation. Plus, I know this makes me sound like I huff paint, but it smells good to me. The excitement usually wears off about halfway through a project, though, so now you’re warned.”

  He gave an exaggerated gasp. “You’d quit on me?”

  “Depends on what I get if I finish.” She winked at him and his throat went dry. Then, as usual, she looked away. That was what amused him most about when she delivered a line like that—she seemed as surprised by it as he did. And he liked to take advantage of that by saying something bold in return and watching her eyes widen or her cheeks redden.

  He moved right up behind her and leaned his lips next to her ear. “I have a few ideas.”

  She shivered against him and if he didn’t rein it in, she was going to be feeling exactly what he was thinking about.

  Her arm slowed as she brought the roller down the wall. He was still holding one in his right hand, trying to keep it away from her so he didn’t completely ruin her clothes.

  “Sawyer…” Her voice came out breathless, and it completely unraveled him. Did she have any idea what she did to him? She was like a drug—once he had a taste he wanted more. This girl had knocked down all his usual barriers in a matter of weeks, and he didn’t care. He wanted to let her all the way in.

  Shit. No, not all the way. I can’t… He thought of his mom drained after a day of taking care of his dad. Panic was rising up, digging its claws into his lungs.

  “You need some air? I need some air.” He dropped his roller into the paint tray and headed out the back door, his heart beating against his rib cage like it was trying to make an escape.

  …

  Brynn wasn’t sure what had just happened. Sawyer was flirting—and then some. Over the past few days she’d tried to keep up her guard, pulling away when things g
ot serious, trying to find that balance. As happy as she was whenever she was with him, there was always that twinge of guilt. The reminder that he liked her for the wrong reasons. Brynn was starting to put on a show so much that fiction was slowly bleeding into reality.

  She’d thought about confessing the truth almost every time they were together. But when she’d told Paul she was thinking of coming clean and telling Sawyer how glad she was he’d moved back, her brother said she was so close to hooking him, and not to screw it up now.

  A pit formed in her stomach. Maybe I already screwed it up.

  She tried to remember if she’d said anything that might scare him off. She hadn’t quoted any plays or books.

  Then it hit her. The kitchen. I said I wanted him to bake for me. That sounds like I’m trying to domesticate him or something. But that was a few conversations ago…

  Maybe it was the paint huffing comment. You’re not supposed to tell people that you like smelling paint. She was sure that wasn’t it either, though.

  Determined to fix…whatever it was, she stepped onto the back porch. Her house had a tiny window that overlooked the lake, but she rarely went into the backyard. The lady who’d lived there before her had landscaped with rocks and ceramic geese and gnomes and left no place to really sit. Basically, it was where lawn ornaments went to die. Brynn had moved the boy and girl gnomes closer so it looked like they were kissing, but she was only renting the place and couldn’t do much more.

  But the large, raised deck of this house had a prime view of the glittering lake, tiny boats leaving white trails across the water, and birds flying through the cottony clouds and unbelievably blue sky. Even though she’d grown up fishing on that lake, its picture-perfect beauty still struck her when she took the time to stand and take it in.

  And maybe she was avoiding talking to Sawyer the tiniest bit. Somewhere along the way this relationship stopped being a practice run and started being real, and her heart ached at the thought of whatever was happening between them ending. If she were being honest with herself, she’d wanted it to be more from the beginning, regardless of their past that only she remembered.

  She took another step and he glanced back at her, devastatingly handsome as always. She took in a deep breath and said, “Hey,” hoping it was enough, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  He stared at her for a moment—or maybe it was for three years. It certainly felt like that long. Then he held out his hand to her. She clasped it, the calluses he’d most likely gotten working on the house rough against her skin. With his other hand, he brushed away the hair the breeze was sending across her face and rested his palm on her cheek.

  She wasn’t sure what he was feeling or thinking, but the mixture of panic at this potentially ending and the pleasure of his touch had her thinking she was already past the point of no return.

  “I think you’re amazing,” he said.

  Her hands started shaking and she clenched them into fists. This was the classic break-up speech. It’d been used on her before, and she’d used it once herself.

  “But I should also tell you…” Sawyer glanced down at the deck. “I’m not big on commitment. Actually, I run from it.”

  Everything inside her turned cold and hard. Ice formed over her heart; her lungs stopped expanding. You always knew this would happen, you idiot. What, you thought he’d actually fall for you?

  It was like that moment in high school when he’d crushed her all over again. Only this was worse because she actually knew him now, knew he was one of the rare, hard-to-find good guys. Or so she’d thought.

  She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her, keeping her next to him. “I didn’t say anything about commitment,” she said. She’d been so careful not to. “If this is about me telling you to bake for me, that was a joke.”

  “It’s not. I’m not saying…” He blew out a breath. “If I were going to stay here, then maybe… But I’m only here for another week, two at most. The house is almost finished, and once it and the play are done, I’ve got to go back to my real life. I know I should’ve said something earlier, but I didn’t think it’d turn into…this.” And what was this? Was he saying he wanted more? Or that he could tell she did?

  “I’m just trying to be honest,” he said.

  Lately she’d decided honesty was overrated. She could’ve gone without knowing this for a few more days. Weeks. Forever.

  He’s leaving. That thought spun around and around in her head, opening up a hollow emptiness in her chest. Sawyer no longer in town. Not in the beautiful house next door he was pouring his heart and soul into. It was so…wrong.

  But apparently this wasn’t his real life—he’d said it like staying in North Carolina would be ridiculous. As hypocritical as it was, considering she currently wasn’t exactly living her real life either, that made her want to shake him. This place was her home. And he belonged here, too; couldn’t he see that?

  Or maybe she was the one who couldn’t see right. I don’t know him. Not really. It took more than a few stolen backstage kisses and some stories about his father to know him. Obviously.

  And to think she’d even considered coming clean. There was really no point now, was there?

  Sawyer brushed his thumb across the top of her cheek. “Say something.”

  The sinking sensation in her gut grew. “That’s totally fine. I mean, it’s not like I thought this was anything serious. And I don’t even know how long I’ll stick around here, either.” She didn’t know where that came from. The world was spinning and her thoughts were hard to catch hold of.

  “Are you thinking about going back to LA?”

  What she wouldn’t do to go back in time and undo that lie. It was far too late to fix it now, but guilt still filled the empty void in her stomach. “I don’t know.”

  Too many emotions were nearing the surface, tears were rising, and she’d simply die if she cried in front of him. That’d probably scare him off for good. Then again, maybe that would be a good thing. She forced the corners of her mouth to lift into a smile. “You know, I just remembered I have something I need to do before rehearsal. So I’ll see you then.”

  Sawyer caught her wrist. “Brynn.”

  She tugged away from him and rushed through the living room and out the front door. It was the first time all week they hadn’t kissed good-bye. Her lips and her body—and her heart—already missed it.

  …

  Sawyer watched Brynn walk away, heard the door close behind her, and hung his head. He’d really screwed it up this time. But it was better for her to know now, right? Better for him, too. A few days ago he’d been thinking about sticking around longer for her, but that’d only make it worse in the end. Now they both knew there was an expiration date. Maybe this would save them from the kind of messy breakup that included dish-throwing or left emotional scars.

  With that mantra in his mind, he headed back into the kitchen, picked up his roller, and got back to work. He missed Brynn’s humming. Watching her as she painted. Her calming presence. Her absence took up all the space in the room, glaring at him in every place he tried to look. In the matter of thirty minutes, he’d gone from having the best day ever to one of the worst.

  He told himself he’d done the right thing.

  If only it didn’t feel so wrong.

  Chapter Eleven

  Since this morning hadn’t been bad enough, Brynn had to drive all the way to the Bait and Tackle without having tea first. She’d meant to pick some up yesterday, but she’d been too busy riding an emotional roller coaster.

  “Morning,” Paul said with a smile, and she wanted to punch him in the face—he was way too happy and bright-eyed this early. She zombie shuffled past him, squinting against the bright lights, and walked into the office.

  “You hungover or somethin’?” Paul asked, way too loud.

  Yeah, love hungover. “Or somethin’,” she answered, reaching for the coffee Paul kept brewing until about noon. The mugs did
n’t look very clean, but she was so desperate for caffeine she picked one up anyway. She gave it a halfhearted wipe with one of the brown paper towels she always felt did a better job removing a layer of skin than drying hands, and filled the mug with coffee.

  She frowned at the lack of cream and sugar. How could Paul drink this stuff black? She shuddered at the first sip, but eventually her tongue was burned enough she didn’t have to taste it anymore.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you grumpy since high school,” he said with a note of amusement, that stupid smile still on his face.

  “So glad my grumpiness causes you joy.” She moved out by the register and set her mug down on the counter. “Hey, have you gone fishing with Dad at all this week?”

  “Haven’t had time. He came in for a few minutes yesterday afternoon, though.”

  “How did he seem?”

  Paul shrugged. “Like Dad. We talked fishing, sales numbers. The usual.”

  Brynn heard the chime over the door and groaned. She didn’t want to deal with people today.

  Paul tapped the counter in front of her. “I’ve got it. Take a few minutes and listen to show tunes or do whatever it is you do to make yourself so bubbly all the time.”

  Brynn ducked into the office, sat in the swivel chair, and propped her head in her hands. Show tunes weren’t going to help her now. Not after what happened at the end of last night’s rehearsal.

  She’d tried to be cool after Sawyer’s whole bomb about running from commitment and how he was leaving…but she’d failed miserably—more like completely lost it. And now she wondered if Sawyer would ever talk to her again.

  I wasn’t that bad, was I? A tight knot formed in her stomach. Yes, yes I was.

  The entire rehearsal had been torture, to say the least. Every time her gaze had drifted to Sawyer, her heart would tug. And the times his eyes met hers sent squeezing pain through her lungs. She’d missed cues and lines, and by the end of it, all the other actors were as exasperated as she was.