I’d hoped to exude grace, confidence, and beauty when I’d seen him. I may not have been able to pull that off, but there was still hope I could bring it back around. That is, if I didn’t pass out first.
The room started spinning, and Sawyer stepped beside me, wrapped his massive arm around me and ushered me to an empty table in the corner of the room. As we sat, a glass of water magically appeared in front of me, as did a basket of bread.
“Drink.” Sawyer lifted the glass of water.
I took it from him and our fingers brushed. A zing shot up my arm at the contact causing a new wave of light-headedness. As I brought the glass to my mouth and the liquid ran down my throat I realized just how spacey I felt. I was trying to figure out why it seemed like I was floating outside my body. Maybe it was the mix of adrenaline and arousal. Maybe it was anxiety and nerves. Maybe it was excitement and anticipation.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Sawyer narrowed his gaze on me.
“This morn…” I stopped mid-word.
Had I eaten this morning?
No. I’d made eggs but then my sister Madison had called because she’d locked herself out of her house, so I’d turned off the stove. I’d worked through lunch because I closed the shop early to get my hair and makeup done.
So, I flipped back to yesterday. Surely I’d eaten yesterday. But as I took a short trip down memory lane I realized that I hadn’t because I’d been working so hard the last couple of days getting the arrangements put together for this fundraiser. The last time I could remember eating was…Thursday morning, and it was Saturday night now.
Between the extra work at the shop for the event and the fact that I’d been so distracted by everything with my plan finally coming to fruition, I had completely forgotten to eat. Mystery solved. I didn’t feel this way because of adrenaline, arousal, anxiety, nerves, excitement, or anticipation. It was good old fashioned hunger. I’d inadvertently been starving myself.
Sawyer must’ve seen the realization on my face because without waiting for my response he handed me a piece of bread. “Eat.”
As I took the bread the first thought that I had was that I wanted to weigh myself as soon as I got home, just to see if my accidental diet had at least produced the added benefit of shedding a few of the unwanted pounds that I carried, but I shut that thought down.
I was done with that kind of thinking.
Part of my year of self-improvement had been to eat healthier, move more, and stop obsessing about a number on a scale. And this was a perfect example of why I knew that I was doing the right thing. The man of my dreams was sitting beside me, feeding me and my first thought was how much I weigh.
No. No more. I was going to live in the moment and be grateful for the body that I was given. I walked in here on two legs. Sure they might be a little larger than I wished they were but they worked. Not everyone was that lucky. I was done feeling insecure and taking for granted things that other people would give anything to have. I was going to appreciate and love my body. And if things went the way I hoped they would, I wasn’t going to be the only one.
“Thank you.” I took the bread from him and just like when he’d handed me the water, our fingers grazed each other.
Again, a buzz ran through me at the innocent touch. As I took a bite of the bread and began to chew, I wondered what it would be like if he touched me other places. If it would have the same electrifying effect in more sensitive areas of my body. Another visualization popped into my mind, this one not quite as PG as the last. I pictured his hand running up my thigh, slipping beneath my skirt, not stopping until he reached the apex of my legs where his fingers dipped beneath my white lace panties and…
“Good. You’re getting some color back.” He handed me another roll.
I didn’t want it, I tried to limit the amount of bread I had, but I took it anyway because I’d rather have him think it was the food causing my flush than a Skinemax scene playing out in mind. Although, if he did know, it might move things along at a much quicker pace than my original plan.
No. As tempting as it might be to rush things with Sawyer, I needed to stick to the program. What I wanted from him wasn’t just sex, I wanted intimacy. I didn’t want to be like the girl from that bar in Dallas that said he was as much of a stranger six months into their relationship as he had been the first time they met.
When I finished the second piece of bread, he handed me the water again. This time I took it without his gruff one-word instruction to drink.
I had to admit I was feeling better as I set the glass down and licked the excess moisture off of my lips. I lifted my eyes and noticed the outer edge of his nostrils flare while his eyes were laser-locked on my mouth. The intensity radiating off of him as I took one more pass along the seam of my lips, had me feeling dizzy for an entirely different reason. This time I was light-headed from the buzz of arousal.
My chair wobbled, and I heard a voice beside me. “Damn, girl, you look mighty fine.”
Glancing up, I saw that Brady Calhoun was standing with his hand on the back of my chair. I’d known him since primary school, and he’d never shown even the slightest bit of interest in me. My sisters, yes. But me, no. And I’d always been grateful for that. He was cocky, egotistical, and a loud mouth. None of the qualities that I looked for in a man.
“Thanks.” I shifted uncomfortably at the way Brady’s eyes drifted down to the cleavage that I’d been so proud of when I’d stood in front of the mirror as I was getting ready.
Not reading the room, or table, in this case, Brady extended his arm. “Care to dance?”
No. I wanted to stay here with Sawyer, but I didn’t want him to feel like he had to babysit me all night. I wanted him to want me, not feel obligated. But getting up from this table went against every cell in my body screaming to stay put. I bit my lip trying to decide what the right thing to do was and glanced up to see if I could read the temperature of the table. When Sawyer’s eyes met mine I sucked in a breath at the intensity that was in them, and I breathed, “No thanks.”
“Come on. One dance.” Brady reached for my arm.
Sawyer placed his arm around the back of my chair, knocking the hand that Brady had been using to lean on, off, causing him to stumble slightly.
“Hey!”
Not wanting this to escalate further, I tried to smooth things over. Turning to Brady, I explained, “I’m just going to take it easy tonight, but thanks for asking.”
Because he didn’t have a brain in his head, he was now more determined than ever and doubled down. He leaned in towards me and whispered in my ear, “Come on, that dress deserves a spin on the floor.”
Before I had a chance to reply, Sawyer stood, and Brady backed away with his hands in the air. I could’ve easily handled Brady Calhoun. I might be nice and sweet, but I had no problem setting boundaries, at least when it came to unwanted advances. If I had as much of a backbone with my family as I had with guys that got out of line, it would honestly change my life.
When Brady was halfway across the room, Sawyer slowly sat back down, not taking his eyes off of him.
Before I had a chance to tell him I appreciated him stepping in but it wasn’t necessary, Cooper slid into the chair beside me, making me the meat in a Briggs-brothers sandwich.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked.
“Umm…” I wasn’t sure how to answer that because I honestly had no idea. For some reason, Brady had seriously pissed Sawyer off, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t about me. My eyes searched Sawyer’s for answers, but he didn’t seem to have any inclination to answer his brother. So I tried. “I’m not sure.”
“Was Brady being an ass?” Cooper grabbed a roll from the basket and took a bite.
I shrugged. “Not really. He just asked me to dance.”
“That’s it?” Cooper’s eyes bounced between his brother’s and mine. “He asked you to dance?”
I nodded. “A few times.”
“Well, apparently he has a death wish
,” Coop teased. “I mean, I get it. You look absolutely gorgeous. He probably thought if that was how he was going to go out it would be worth it.”
“Thanks, Coop,” I grinned and rolled my eyes, taking his remark in stride.
Unlike Brady, Cooper Briggs always complimented me and every other girl in his general vicinity. Blonde, brunette, redhead, it didn’t matter. Tall, short, thick or skinny, they were all his type. Twenty years old to ninety, age made no difference. He was an equal opportunity charmer.
“I mean it. You’re always a knock-out, but tonight, you really outdid yourself. You are like a walking, breathing fantasy.”
My cheeks heated even though I knew that he had probably used that same line on Dixie Rose, Edith, Barbara Jean and Dorothy, all of whom had passed senior citizen status decades ago.
“Since you’ll be spending a lot of time with my brother and I know I won’t be taking my life into my hands because my brother wouldn’t hurt a hair on my head, how about you let me steal you away for a spin on the dance floor?”
Wait. He said that I was going to be spending plenty of time with his brother that meant that the bids must have been announced and I’d won. I’d been fairly certain that I wouldn’t be outbid. But now it made sense why Sawyer was here. He probably wanted to ask if I was insane.
I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard Sawyer growl, actually growl beside me.
“Do you want to dance?” The offer came from the very last person I’d ever expected it to, and it was nowhere near as smooth as the other invitations. Sawyer’s voice was gritty and rough, and it made my sex clench.
This entire night had gone from zero to sixty, and I was still trying to get my bearings. I looked up at him with uncertainty. I knew that he was probably asking so he could figure out if I needed a straitjacket, but the chance to dance with him was too much of a temptation to pass up. “Yes?”
His lips pulled up into a smile and his left brow rose. “You sure about that?”
Oh. My. Lord.
I’d been ready for a lot of things tonight. Sawyer ignoring me. Sawyer avoiding me. Sawyer not speaking to me. What I hadn’t been prepared for was Sawyer smiling at me.
It stole my breath. It stole my ability to speak. It stole my heart.
Not able to form words I took a page out of Sawyer’s book and nodded. The next thing I knew I was being swept up in his arms and we were in the middle of the dance floor. The feeling of being surrounded by his strength as he held me tightly while we swayed together was better than any dream, any fantasy, any visualization I’d ever had.
Being in the arms of my dark angel was heaven on earth, and I never wanted it to end.
Chapter 7
Sawyer
“You have about as good a chance as a cat in hell without claws.”
~ Grant Turner
Well, shit. Keeping my distance was a joke at this point, and I had no idea what I was doing. I could barely think around this woman. She had me tied up in more knots than my sister Harmony’s headphone cord.
From the moment Sheriff Reed announced Delilah’s name I’d been in a haze. Then she walked into the room and that fog cleared. All I could see was her in that white dress. That damn white dress that had every guy in this room drooling and tripping over themselves like idiots.
I’d never felt as drawn to anything as I’d been to her in that moment. Not a lot moved me when I didn’t want to be moved, my size and strength made sure of that. But I was helpless to whatever had pulled me to her. I’d had no control over my legs, and I honestly wasn’t sure what in the hell I would’ve done when I got there if she hadn’t almost passed out but I was pretty sure it would’ve been something that I couldn’t take back, something that I would’ve instantly regretted. Something like I can’t stop thinking about you. Or I know you don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, and all I want to do is take you home and show you. Or you make me feel things that I have no right feeling, and it scares the shit out of me.
I was saved from myself when she went pale and staggered back. My brain snapped out of its Romeo mode and went into protection mode. I’d wanted to scoop her up—like a groom would his bride to carry her over the threshold—and take her to the nearest hospital. But I’d fought against my caveman compulsions.
I’d trained myself to be controlled. Guarded. Measured. I always thought my actions through, considering every possible outcome. I hadn’t acted impulsively since I was in my early twenties. But I knew that this girl that was in my arms had the power to override my self-restraint. When I saw her, when I talked to her, when I touched her, my reckless instincts siezed control of my thoughts and actions.
Even now, logically I knew that I needed to talk to her about her bid, but I couldn’t find the words. The only thing I could do was hold her against me and feel. If I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what I would say.
When I heard her exhale a soft sigh as she pressed her head against my chest, it caused emotions to explode in me like Nakatomi Plaza in Die Hard. It felt intimate. It felt real. It felt raw.
I hadn’t been a monk since my last relationship by any stretch of the imagination. I considered myself a monogamous person. If I was having sex with someone on a regular basis, then I didn’t hook up with anyone else. But that was all it was. Sex. Nothing more.
All of the women I was with knew that’s all it was. Sex was all that I had to offer. Which meant that things usually ran their course within a few months. Either they wanted more, or the initial chemistry fizzled without having anything more substantial to build on it.
That was how it had to be, and I’d made peace with it a long time ago. I’d built barriers, walls—a damn fortress around myself that I’d thought was impenetrable. But this girl walked right through it like it didn’t exist.
The song stopped, but we didn’t. Our bodies kept moving until the next song started playing. It was like we were in our own world, literally dancing to the beat of our own drummer. As much as I wanted to stay in this moment, I felt myself free falling, and I knew that if I didn’t put out a net, I’d end up crashing and taking her down with me.
“Why did you bid that much?” My question sounded more like an accusation of wrongdoing than genuine interest.
She stiffened in my arms, and I regretted being so harsh but knew it was for the best. Her head lifted, and wide brown eyes stared up at me. There was so much innocence, so much trust, so much vulnerability in them that it just confirmed my need for a net. I couldn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t hurt her.
For a moment, I thought that my question might’ve offended her when I saw that her eyes were glistening with moisture. Seeing her upset, especially over something I’d said, felt the same as the time I’d been sucker punched when I was seventeen outside the Tipsy Cow. I hadn’t seen it coming, and it knocked the wind right out of me. My mind was racing to figure out how to make it better when I saw a look of determination flash and all of the innocence, trust, vulnerability, and tears were gone.
She took a deep breath as her jaw jutted out. “Because it’s a good cause and I wanted to.”
I couldn’t help but grin at her shift in energy. This girl was what my mom referred to as whiskey in a teacup. She was sweet on the outside with a shot of fire on the inside. It just made her that much more attractive.
“Why did you want to?” I rephrased.
“Did you ask Mr. Tally or Mrs. Snider or Patsy May Boyd, or Lydia Myers that?”
“What?” I knew that I wasn’t exactly at my sharpest thanks to the Delilah-effect, but even if I was, I was pretty damn sure that question came out of left field.
She continued listing names. “Or Tania Jones, Mike Stamper, Lina Drove, Mrs. Leonard, Mr. Crest, Mrs. Sands, Old Man Pratt, or Viola Marks?”
“Are those…” There was no way she remembered all of the people that had placed the winning bids over the past twelve years…
“Those are all the people that donated to the auction by bidding on your services. Just like
I did. Did you ask them?”
“No.” I grinned again. I was doing that a lot tonight. “But, they didn’t bid five thousand dollars.”
“So?” There was a defiant glint in her eye that somehow made her even more tempting, more attractive. It wasn’t something I would’ve thought was possible, but I was seeing it transpire with my own eyes.
“I would have done the job for a fraction of that, and you know it.”
“Really?” She challenged.
“Yes.”
“Like you remodeled the shop?”
Damn. Was she calling me out on the fact that I oversaw that job but never spent one day on it? Did she know why? Did she know that I couldn’t trust myself to be in the same room with her for five minutes, much less two weeks?
No, I told myself. There was no way that she could know that.
“Yeah.” Her lips pursed and her nose scrunched in the way that I’d always found cuter than Chewy when he was a puppy, and I originally thought he might be the cutest thing in the world. “That’s what I thought.”
I remained quiet, neither confirming nor denying the conclusion that she’d jumped to.
When I didn’t answer, she didn’t let it her slow her down. She pushed on as if I had. “If I would’ve gone through the normal channels and hired Briggs Construction, you would’ve had one of your crew come and do the work. Even if I specifically requested that you be on the job.”
Hell yeah, I would have. Usually, I hated when people assumed that they knew what I was thinking, but Delilah was different. I liked the fact that she could read me. That she could continue a conversation without me saying a word. It made me feel like the connection I felt to her was real and not just something I’d built up in my head.
“And…” She tilted her head as she straightened her shoulders with a fresh air of determination, entirely unaffected by my silence. “I’m sure that they would’ve done a great job. I know that you hold everyone that works for you up to the same standard of near perfection that you hold yourself up to.”
I felt a sense of pride well in me. I loved that she saw that quality in me. My dad had instilled in me at a very young age that something wasn’t worth doing unless you did it right. I’d taken that a step further and adopted the theory that something wasn’t worth doing unless it was as close to perfect as it could be. I took pride in my standards and the standards that I held the people that worked for me to.
Seducing Sawyer (Wishing Well, Texas Book 7) Page 5
