by Rachel Hanna
“Huh. Time sure passes quickly,” he said, leaning his head back against the chair and staring out into space.
“It definitely does.”
“I remember being a kid, running out in the streets. Playing ball. Being in parades. Riding my bike. And now Kyle and Jenna are married and having a baby. Crazy.”
“Yes, I’ve been reminded recently that life is short.”
Sawyer turned and looked back at her. “What happened?”
“I just lost my mother recently after a courageous battle with cancer. In fact, I’m only here because of her right now.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Laura. And for being a jerk after our little accident.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? A little accident?” she asked with a smile.
“Well, I’ll heal up soon enough. And you taught me the lesson of never standing in the middle of any road. All my big plans of standing in the middle of the interstate are now dashed, thanks to you.” He smiled, and two dimples suddenly appeared. Yum. “So where are you from?”
“Baltimore.”
“Ahh… Nice city. I’ve only been there once.”
“What were you doing there?” she asked. He looked stunned at her question for a moment and then spoke, offering a small crooked smile.
“Oh, just passing through. You mentioned you were in January Cove because of your mother. What did you mean by that?”
Laura squinted her eyes. “You’ll make fun of me.” He used his good leg to lightly kick her chair.
“Come on. I won’t laugh. I promise.” He was already starting to smile. “Look at me. I have no room to laugh. You could easily push me out of this chair right now.”
Laura giggled. “I came here to live out my mother’s dream board.”
“Dream board?”
“Well, I guess it’s technically called a vision board.”
“You lost me.”
“When my mother died, I inherited her home. I found this big board under her bed, covered in years of dust. It showed all of these different things that she wanted to do in her life, but I know that she didn’t get any of them done. So, here I am.”
Sawyer laughed. “And January Cove was her big dream?”
“Hey, I already love this little town.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s a pretty cool place,” he said.
“Anyway, January Cove was just one little picture on the board, so I started here.”
“What kinds of other things were on the board?” He was leaning in closer, obviously interested in her strange tale.
“Just random stuff. This and that…”
“Out with it. Give me some examples.” He sat waiting with a big smile like a Cheshire cat. It was the biggest smile she’d seen since hitting him with her car, and it was causing butterflies to rush around in her stomach.
“Roller coaster. Sky dive. Motorcycle. Date a younger man…” she rattled off as quickly as she could.
“Date a younger man?” Sawyer could barely contain his laughter.
“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with a woman dating a younger man!”
“Didn’t say there was. Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that.” He cleared his throat nervously.
Laura smiled. “Yeah. Me either. My mother was a demure, conservative woman. I can’t imagine her wanting to do any of these things.”
“So why are you doing them then?” He leaned back in the creaky rocking chair and adjusted his arm, wincing a bit.
“I guess I just realized that life is short, and a person should follow their dreams while they can.” Laura leaned back in her chair and sighed, trying not to get emotional when she thought about her mother.
After a few moments of watching her, Sawyer finally spoke. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What about your dreams?”
Laura cocked her head to the side quizzically. “What about them?”
“Well, do you have dreams?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” she asked with a laugh.
“I’m not sure they do. Or maybe most people think that their dreams are way out of reach.”
“One of my dreams is in process, right there across the street,” she said, pointing to the new sign on her bakery.
“Good. Everyone should follow their dreams. You only get one shot at this life.”
“What about you? Are you following your dreams?”
He fidgeted a bit in his seat and laughed nervously. “I have been for a long time.” He said it softly and then changed the subject before she could dig further. “Listen, can I ask you a favor?”
“Depends on what kind of favor. If it’s a ‘can I borrow a dollar’ favor, then sure. If it’s ‘can I borrow a kidney’ then I’ll need more time to think about it.”
Sawyer chuckled. “But you wouldn’t immediately say no to a kidney loan? That’s progress right there, my friend.” Laura smiled, and there were those butterflies again. “Actually, I was going to ask if you minded helping me out a bit tomorrow?”
“With…?”
“My physical therapist called a few hours ago. Apparently I need to be there tomorrow just before lunch for my first session. They want to start working on my arm so I can get back to…”
“Work?”
“Something like that. I was wondering if you could maybe… drive me there? If you’re busy with the bakery, I totally understand. I can ask Addy or even take an Uber… if we have Uber around here…”
Laura reached across and touched his arm without thinking. “It’s okay. I don’t mind at all. I sort of owe you that much, right?” He looked down at her hand resting on his tanned skin, and she immediately pulled back.
“Good. I really appreciate it. My house is right down there. Just take a left at the stop sign, and it’s the third one on the left. A small yellow cottage with a red mailbox.” As he pointed, she tried to pay attention, but his jawline was particularly distracting to her for some reason.
“Got it. Red mailbox.” Lord, she hoped she could remember what he just said. As she was contemplating having him repeat it, he somehow managed to stand up on his own, reaching for the crutches that were leaning against the porch post.
“Here. Let me help you…” She retrieved both crutches and slipped one under each arm, although with a sling it wasn’t easy. “How are you getting home?”
“I’ll take the moron home,” she heard Brad say from the sidewalk.
“Moron?” Sawyer said.
“Dude, do you not remember I was coming by tonight? Bringing wings and beer?” Brad held up a bag that had grease bleeding through onto the brown paper. “Got a little held up at the maternity ward.”
“Do they even still call it that?” Laura asked under her breath.
“I do,” Brad said with a wink. “Come on, man. I’ll take you home and give you a sponge bath.”
Sawyer grunted and looked at Laura. “About ten tomorrow?” She nodded and smiled.
“Ten it is. Red mailbox.” Sawyer eyed her carefully for a moment, lingering longer than she expected before Brad cleared his throat.
“Addy and Clay should be along anytime now. They were right behind me,” Brad said to Laura.
“So the baby was born?”
“Yes, a beautiful baby boy. Mason James Parker. Carrying on the handsome male lineage of this family,” he said, flexing the muscles in his arms.
“Dear Lord, come on, you goober,” Sawyer said, poking his crutch out at Brad and knocking his shin. “See ya tomorrow.”
As Laura watched them get into Brad’s truck and drive down the road, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. And that was enough to scare the crap out of her.
Chapter 6
“Wait, so you ran over a guy with your car?” Carrie said from the other end of the phone line.
“I didn’t run him over. I just tapped him. Hard.” Laura held her cell phone on her shoulder with one ear while she poured a cup of coffee. Addison had g
one back to the hospital to see the baby and Jenna while Clay went to work at the ferry dock, his side job that seemed to be more for fun and socializing than any real need for money.
“And he’s still speaking to you? And he’s hot?”
“I never said he was hot.”
“You never said he wasn’t. I know you, Laura.”
Laura sat down on the bar stool and stirred the cream and sugar into her coffee. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You have the hots for this guy!”
“Why on Earth would you say that?” Laura’s cheeks flushed hot, and she could only imagine what color they were at the moment.
“Because you’ve told me precious little about your new business or the town or anything else except this guy.”
“I just started from the beginning.” Carrie could always tell when she was lying.
“Mhmmm….”
“Anyway, I have to go soon because I need to scarf down this blueberry muffin and coffee and pick him up for physical therapy.”
“I bet you’d like to give him some physical therapy!” she said, giggling like a middle schooler.
“Goodbye, Carrie,” Laura sang back to her, laughing as she ended the call.
Addison smiled at her new nephew. He was adorable, for sure. He had a tuft of dark hair on top of his head which almost looked a little bit like a really bad toupee. The thought made Addison giggle to herself.
Addison was truly happy for Jenna and Kyle. There had been many years that they had been separated, but Addison was so glad that Jenna was officially her sister. And now that they had their first child together, it really solidified their family unit. With Jenna's little girl, Kaitlyn, from her previous marriage, Kyle finally had the perfect little family that he so deserved.
"She's so beautiful," Addison said to her brother who was packing Jenna’s bag to go home.
"Handsome. He's handsome, not beautiful." Kyle smiled at his sister and continued packing.
"Whatever. He's going to break a lot of hearts one day."
"As long as no one breaks his heart," Jenna said with a giggle. And Addison knew that was true. Her sister-in-law would do anything to protect her children, so little Mason had no idea what his mother might do to future girlfriends if they broke his heart.
“So did I hear correctly that Sawyer Griffin is back in town?” Kyle asked.
“Yes. But I feel like he’s hiding from something. He says he just needs a break from the limelight, but I get the feeling that something happened back in Nashville.”
“Maybe so. But if he needs to get away, we all know January Cove is the perfect place for that,” Kyle said.
As Laura drove down the street, she looked carefully for the red mailbox. She thought to herself that she should've paid better attention when Sawyer was talking, but she had had a very hard time focusing. When he smiled and was nice to her, he was extremely appealing and that fact alone was quite distressing to her.
She turned on the road and started counting houses, thinking that she remembered that his house was the third one on the left. It seemed that she might be right when she spotted the red mailbox.
It was an adorable little yellow house with a wraparound front porch, somewhat bigger than the other small beach homes in the area. She didn't know if he owned it or was just renting it for a short time, although she thought someone had told her that he was only back in town temporarily.
If nothing else, she didn’t need to be getting interested in someone who was only staying for a short time anyway. She planned to lay down roots in January Cove, and getting involved with someone who wasn't planning on staying was not in her future plans.
In the back of her mind, she could hear Carrie’s voice telling her that life was short and she should jump out there and just be happy. Even if that happiness was only for a short time.
"What am I thinking? This guy isn't interested in me any more than I'm interested in him." Even though she was trying to convince herself of that, she found herself feeling interested in him. Maybe it was just the long drought of not being with someone who really cared about her. It had been a very long time since a man had loved her; since a man had touched her in a way that made her feel cherished and safe.
Maybe she had hit her head when she knocked him to the ground with her car. Whatever the reason, she'd have to be careful not to let her feelings get out of hand.
She pulled into the driveway and parked her car. As usual, she was early, a pet peeve that had driven her ex crazy.
“Why do we have to be everywhere fifteen minutes early?” he would complain every single time they had to go to a family function or a party.
She didn’t know why, other than her mother had taught her that being punctual was basically an unwritten rule, and being early was even better.
“Good morning,” Sawyer said as he opened the door. He still had that morning look of tousled hair and he wasn’t yet wearing a shirt, something she tried hard to ignore but couldn’t.
Dang, he was good looking. The stubble along his jawline had grown overnight, and his chest was chiseled like he’d been carved out of stone. No matter how hard she tried, it was impossible not to notice the thick, deep crevices on both hips that led down to places she would rather not think about.
For a moment, she felt like she was having a hot flash, but she wasn’t in that time of her life yet. Please don’t let my cheeks be red.
“Sorry I’m a little early…” she said as she walked inside. The place was clean as a whistle and had beach furniture, as expected. It was light and bright and not at all what she expected.
“No problem. I need a little help anyhow,” he said. Laura turned around to face him again, trying to get her bearings and tamp down her hormones.
“Help?”
“Today hasn’t been a great day. I tried to pull on my shirt and I think I further injured my arm.” She could see a mint green t-shirt slung over the chair beside them. “I don’t suppose you could help me get that on?” He squinted his eyes and forced a smile.
“Of course. That’s no big deal. Here, let’s get this thing off first…” she said, reaching out to help him remove the sling. He winced a bit as she did it, obviously in pain. “Have you asked for some pain meds?”
“Nah, I’ll be alright in time,” he said, his deep Southern drawl causing heat waves throughout her body. As she removed the sling, she noticed a well worn guitar in the corner.
“You play?” she asked, pointing to it. Anything to distract her from the feel of his warm skin against her fingertips.
He looked at the guitar and then cocked his head at her, looking a bit confused. “Yeah.”
“You any good?” she asked, smiling as she took the shirt from the back of the chair.
“A lot of people seem to think so.”
“Well, if I help you with this shirt, you have to promise to play me a song once you’re out of this sling. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll even sing too.”
“Are you a good singer?”
He laughed. “I can carry a tune.” It was like he had some kind of inside joke that she didn’t understand, and not wanting to look stupid, she didn’t dig further.
“Well, good. I can’t wait to critique you.” She pulled the hole down around his head, her fingers grazing the edge of his stubble. She wanted to linger there, to feel if it was prickly or soft, but thought better of it.
He carefully lifted his hurt arm into the shirt first, his hand catching along the way. For a moment, all she could hear was her breathing, deep and ragged, and his seemed to match. Probably from the pain of lifting his arm, she convinced herself.
“Critique me?” he said softly as she held the shirt out for his other arm. She could feel his breath across her cheek, and it was blowing a stray strand of her hair slightly.
“I love music.”
“What kind?” he asked, as she finally finished pulling his shirt down. Over rock solid abs, her fingers purposely grazing
the crevices of each indentation in hopes that he didn’t notice.
“I told you last night. Classical.”
She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like he grunted.
“Not a fan?” she asked with a laugh.
“Never really got into that,” he said, as she helped him put the sling back on. “You like country?”
“Yuck. No thanks. Nothing but songs about heartbreak and people dying.”
“But elevator music is better? Classical sounds like music you’d hear at the grocery store. Or in a funeral parlor.”
She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Don’t tick off your driver, Sawyer.”
He smiled. “Fine. We can table this discussion for now.”
After a few moments, they made their way out the door. Laura helped Sawyer into her small car.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Just take Main Street down past the ferry dock and go right. The therapy office is a few miles from there.”
At first they rode in silence, and Laura wasn’t sure what to say. Small talk had never been her strong suit.
“Cats or dogs?” Sawyer suddenly asked.
“What?”
“Do you like cats or dogs?”
“Dogs. In fact, I have a little doggie. He’s currently living with my best friend back in Baltimore, until I get a permanent place here in January Cove.”
“Name?”
She sighed and then laughed. “Rigoletto.”
“Riggo…what?”
“Rigoletto. It’s an opera by Verde. Based on a play by Victor Hugo…” she said, as if she was trying to jog his memory. “You’ve never heard of it?”
“Um, no. We don’t get into stuff like that ‘round these parts, ma’am,” he said in a fake, thick Southern accent that sounded nothing like his own easy way of talking.
“Very funny.”
“What’s it about?”
“Do you really want to know or are you being sarcastic?”
“I really want to know. It would do me good to learn something new.”
“Well, it’s an opera in three acts. I think it first opened in eighteen fifty-one. It’s a tragic tale with secrets and seduction and a curse and even assassins.”
