She immediately dismissed the thought. He’d asked for her section. He knew she was here.
Drawing a deep breath, she headed for his table, dropping off table twelve’s check and promising to return for the payment shortly. Ten steps later, she was at his side.
He was facing away from her, looking out the window and over the water. She debated how to begin, whether to admit she recognized him through his thin disguise or behave as the server she was and ask if he’d like to start with something to drink.
In the end, he saved her from having to decide. He shifted in his seat, pulling his eyes away from the gray-blue of the Chesapeake’s water, lifting his gaze to meet hers.
“I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” she asked.
“How beautiful it is here.”
The way he said it made her realize he wasn’t referring to the view, and she fought back the heat flooding her cheeks. He looked the same, maybe better than when she’d last seen him in person. Or perhaps it was her complicated emotions making him seem that way. Sawyer had always been confident, but he seemed to hold himself with even more surety now. But then, setting country music records was likely to do that to a person.
Stabs of both jealousy and grief sliced through her. He’d become famous. He’d fulfilled his dream. And beneath the layers of frustration, a part of her was exceedingly proud of him. But he’d also left her, after years of shared joys and tears, when it was most convenient for him. And she’d spent the last twenty-three months trying to come to terms with the loss of him—her high-school sweetheart, the guy she’d waited for throughout army basic training and deployment, the man she’d traveled all over the United States with as they’d performed their music and chased their dreams.
Sawyer had been her soul mate. At one time she’d been closer to him than any other person on earth, her brother included. She hadn’t had many close relationships in her life, and Sawyer knew that. But she’d had him.
Until fame came calling.
“Rory? Aren’t you going to say anything? Welcome me home?”
He’d called her beautiful, as if that could make up for the heartache he’d caused her.
Without giving it a second thought, Rory turned and grabbed a half-full glass of ice water on a table waiting to be bused.
“Welcome home,” she offered and then tipped the water over the top of his head, dousing him.
And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, deciding Sawyer Landry could starve before she’d serve him.
* * *
SAWYER BLINKED THE water out of his eyes and groped for a napkin to wipe his face. He dabbed at his wet chin and pulled his baseball cap lower over his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized with the attention Rory had just drawn to him.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted aloud and used the sleeve of his T-shirt to mop some water from his jaw.
Seconds later, the hostess appeared with a handful of napkins, uttering profuse apologies for Rory’s behavior.
He shrugged. “I should have seen that coming. Rory never was one to take things lying down.”
The girl blinked, obviously puzzled. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her brow furrowing in concentration. Sawyer looked away, hoping she wouldn’t recognize him.
“You know Rory?”
He pushed back his chair. “Yeah, I’m her—” He stopped. “An old friend,” he said after a beat and stood.
“Sir, please. I don’t know what came over her, but I’m sure the manager will treat you to a meal on the house—”
“Not bloody likely.”
Sawyer turned as Connor, Rory’s older brother, approached the table. The other man’s expression was tight with anger. Sawyer held up his hands in surrender.
“Hey there, Connor. Good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“The place looks great. Your dad would have loved it.”
Connor made an angry noise in the back of his throat and took another step toward the table. Sawyer shifted his eyes to the hostess, in hope of reminding Connor they had an audience. But she wasn’t the only one watching them. From his peripheral vision, Sawyer noticed that most of the customers in the immediate vicinity had paused to witness the confrontation.
“I just wanted to see Rory,” Sawyer admitted. “I thought I’d surprise her. In retrospect, maybe showing up here wasn’t exactly the smartest way to go about it.”
Connor’s jaw clenched in reply.
“Listen, I know it’s more than I deserve, but I’d really like the chance to talk to her.”
“I’m not sure she wants to talk to you,” Connor growled.
“Fair enough. But would you mind asking her for me?”
“She’s working right now.”
Sawyer nodded. “Okay.” He sat back down in his chair. “In that case, I’ll just wait right here.”
Connor crossed his arms. “You’re not welcome here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Sawyer released a breath, trying to keep his cool. He and Connor had always gotten along in years past. Sawyer had a tremendous amount of respect for the other man, especially his devotion to his family and his dream of becoming a successful restaurateur. He’d always known Connor possessed the same Irish bullheadedness as Rory; he’d just rarely come up against its full force like this.
Still, the man was protecting his sister. And for that, Sawyer couldn’t blame him.
“What if I order something? I’d love to see what you—”
“No.” Connor’s voice was flat, brooking no argument.
Sawyer opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance.
“Oh, my gosh! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Recognition suddenly bloomed on the hostess’s face. Sawyer grimaced. Connor blinked.
“You’re him! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Her excitement spread through the restaurant dining room, first hushed and then louder, like the click of falling dominoes gaining speed.
Sawyer knew it wouldn’t be long before he was assailed by autograph-seekers and picture-takers. Normally, he didn’t mind—it went with the territory, after all. But he’d come here to see Rory, and he didn’t imagine a rush of groupies in the restaurant dining area would endear him to Connor.
“Please, Connor, just tell her I want to talk.”
Connor’s arms remained crossed, his nostrils flared.
One of the servers timidly approached and thrust her order pad in Sawyer’s direction. “Would you mind giving me your autograph?”
“Dani, go see to your tables.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Sawyer heard the snap of photos and looked past Connor to see several restaurant patrons brandishing their phones and clicking away in his direction. He smiled at them and gave a little wave.
Dani began to slink away with an air of disappointment surrounding her.
“How about I drop by later and bring you a signed copy of one of my CDs?” Sawyer offered to her retreating back.
Dani turned, her face lighting happily. She nodded and then caught Connor’s eye before scurrying away again. Vanessa took her cue from her coworker and followed.
Before the two men could continue their argument, a customer approached and held out her napkin, along with a pen.
“Excuse me? Mr. Landry? My daughter is a big fan, and she’d just love it if I could get her your autograph.” She held out her napkin and a pen, and he took the items in hand.
“Sure, what’s her name?”
The woman beamed. “Allison. Allie, that is. Or whichever you prefer.”
He scribbled a quick note, wishing Allie all the best, and then signed his name with a flourish.
&nbs
p; He sensed Connor’s mounting irritation.
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much.” The woman paused. “And...would you mind taking a picture with me? Just so I can prove to her it was really you?”
“No problem.” Sawyer stepped to the side so the woman could move in beside him.
She turned to Connor and handed him her cell phone.
“Would you mind terribly?”
Connor did mind, Sawyer could see it, but he wasn’t about to deny a customer. He wordlessly took the phone, framed the shot and clicked as Sawyer grinned broadly for the camera.
“Oh, that’s just wonderful. Thank you!” The woman was speaking to him, barely sparing Connor a glance as she reclaimed her cell phone. “Thank you so much! Allie will be so excited.”
Sawyer looked at Connor, eyebrows raised as though daring him to allow this to continue. A few chairs scraped, and Sawyer had the sense a receiving line was about to form. Connor must have realized it, too, because he grabbed Sawyer by the arm and hauled him away from the table.
“In the back. Now.”
Sawyer shot one last look over his shoulder and saw several crestfallen faces as he was dragged away. Once the dining room disappeared from view, Connor warned him, “I’ll take you to her, but if she doesn’t want to talk to you, you leave through the back. You got it?”
“Got it.”
Connor hesitated, his green eyes cold. “You don’t deserve her forgiveness, you know.”
Sawyer grew serious. “I know. But I’m hoping she’ll grant it anyway.”
Connor gestured for him to follow and didn’t comment further one way or another.
* * *
RORY PACED IN Connor’s office, her black Converse sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor each time she pivoted on her heel. Normally, she found this room soothing. After the fire that had damaged a large part of the building, Harper had seen to it that the back office was remodeled into a charming work space for Connor. Though it wasn’t overly large, the slate-blue walls and sea-glass collage artwork were calming. Harper shared the space with Connor, too, and while his half of the room was usually a jumble of papers and notes, Harper’s tiny glass-topped desk remained neat and tidy, often with fresh flowers in the pottery vase displayed on the corner surface. Rory had caught Connor adding flowers to that vase on more than one occasion. It warmed her to think her brother could be such a romantic where Harper was concerned.
Today, however, she spared little thought for her brother’s love life. She was too overwhelmed with her own.
Sawyer was here. Back in Findlay Roads. In the restaurant. Sawyer was here...for her? After the last couple of years trying to separate herself from the idea of ever seeing him again, he was suddenly back. And he’d sought her out.
She was still trying to wrap her head around this revelation when a soft knock sounded on Connor’s office door.
A second later, it eased open, and Connor stuck in his head.
Behind him, she caught a glance of Sawyer. She stepped back and shook her head.
“No. Connor, no. I said I don’t want to talk to him.”
Connor grimaced. “I know, but I can’t have him in the restaurant.”
“Then kick him out!”
“He won’t go without talking to you first.”
She scowled.
“Rory, please.” Sawyer’s voice sounded from the crack in the doorway. He edged it open and stood next to Connor. “Just five minutes. Five minutes, and then I won’t bother you anymore. Please.”
She raised her chin. “I can’t. I’m on the clock.”
“Not anymore,” Connor said. “You’re taking a break.”
“I just got here,” she protested, but Connor’s gaze pleaded with her.
“Vanessa can fill in for you for a bit.”
Rory opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. If Connor was asking her to do this then she should. He wouldn’t make such a request of her lightly.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Five minutes.”
Connor appeared relieved and then sheepish. “Um, would you both mind discussing things...elsewhere?”
Rory raised an eyebrow.
“I think it would be better if Sawyer left the premises,” he explained.
“Oh.” Rory wasn’t sure what that was about, but decided that if she was going to talk to Sawyer, it didn’t matter whether it was here or somewhere else.
“Why don’t we take a stroll on the promenade?” Sawyer suggested.
Rory folded her arms across her chest.
“Fine. But your five minutes starts the next time you open your mouth.”
Sawyer nodded but wisely didn’t utter a sound.
* * *
THE PROMENADE WAS blessedly vacant this time of day as people spent the late afternoon hours shopping or sailing on the bay. A few couples were scattered along the boardwalk and one man was fishing over one of the railings, but they were spread out so that Rory and Sawyer were mostly alone.
Sawyer had taken her at her word about when the timer on his five minutes would begin. He said nothing as they’d walked from Callahan’s to the promenade and still remained silent as they began strolling the stretch of boardwalk. After a good three minutes of silence, Rory grew too uncomfortable to allow it to continue. She stopped and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her torso. She made a point of tapping her wrist.
“Okay. You can start talking now.”
But he didn’t, not right away. At first, she thought he was antagonizing her, but then she realized he seemed to be searching for the words. His struggle gave her a moment to study him more closely. His light brown hair was trimmed short around his ears and behind his neck. She couldn’t see any more, since he still wore the baseball cap he’d been sporting in the restaurant. He didn’t wear any sunglasses, despite the afternoon sunshine. A part of her wished he had. It was difficult to stare into the familiar warmth of his blue eyes. He had a faint dusting of scruff along his jaw, and she wasn’t sure if it was an intended effect or whether he’d just not bothered shaving that morning. Maybe he’d been in too much of a hurry...to see her?
She tensed. She couldn’t let herself think such things.
It was hard not to, though, when he kept stealing glances at her, his mouth twitching slightly every time she met his gaze. It was also strange to be standing so near to him, after so much time apart.
He was somehow different...and yet still Sawyer. The way he carried himself was new to her. He moved with an easy confidence, maybe even a touch of arrogance, as if he’d finally found his place in the world, and no one could take him from it.
She hated that. She admired it. She envied it.
“I’m going to start timing you whether you speak or not,” she announced, as much to jump-start the conversation as to take her mind off her emotions.
“You said you wouldn’t start timing until I started talking.”
She smirked at his slip. He made a face.
“Okay, round one to Rory.”
She didn’t reply, simply tapped a finger on her hip, pretending to tick off the seconds—though she was really just waiting to hear what he’d say next.
“Please stop that.”
She ignored him. He groaned.
“Fine. Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I was selfish and inconsiderate, and maybe a little bit dazzled by the idea of my name in lights.”
“A little bit?”
He looked at her, managing to catch her eyes with his so that she couldn’t look away.
“I don’t know how else to say it except that I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did—you didn’t deserve that. I’ve missed you.”
Her heart began to pick up speed.
“You’re unhappy?”
He hesitated. “No,” he admitted. “I can’t say that I’m unhappy. I...love what I’m doing. I love performing, and I’ve gotten to travel the world. It’s—” he drew a deep breath “—it’s everything I ever dreamed.”
Her heart continued racing, but this time in anger.
“You came all this way to tell me that? ‘I’m sorry, Rory,’” she said, mimicking him, “‘but really, my life’s great now. Just thought you should know.’”
She grunted in disgust and turned away from him, stomping down the boardwalk. She passed an elderly couple seated on a bench and only barely registered their frowns of disapproval. She wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection, holding herself together or holding back her fury, she wasn’t sure which. Seconds later, she heard the soft thump of Sawyer’s footsteps behind her, trying to catch up.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“You’ve said enough.”
“But I haven’t told you the most important part.”
She almost stumbled in hesitation, but righted herself and took two more steps before he spoke again.
“You didn’t let me say that it hasn’t been worth it.”
She stopped abruptly, and he ran into her from behind so that she staggered forward. The next thing she knew, his hands were around her waist, keeping her from falling. For a moment, just the span of a heartbeat or two, she let him hold onto her and savored the memory of his embrace. But by the count of three, she came to her senses and pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me.” She whirled on him. “Don’t you touch me.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He backed up, hands in the air. He looked pained.
“I didn’t come back to rub things in. I know I’m not the best guy, but do you really think I’m that cruel?”
She shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the question. As much as she’d tried to vilify Sawyer in her mind over the last couple of years, she didn’t know if she could call him cruel. Selfish, yes. Insensitive, sure. But cruel? No, he’d never been that. The man who had cradled her in his arms the night she’d lost her father was not mean. But even so, he’d broken her heart, and while he might not have done it out of cruelty, his selfishness had wounded her just the same. Just because he was ready to make amends didn’t mean she was ready to let him.
A Song for Rory Page 3
