Seducing Sawyer (Wishing Well, Texas Book 7)

by Melanie Shawn

  As we both drifted back to reality, I told myself not to be disappointed if he asked me to leave. Of course, it would be great if this had been the best sex of his life, too, and I’d blown his mind as thoroughly as he’d just blown mine…but I knew that that was way too much to hope for. Stuff like that only happened in romance novels, and this was no romance novel. This was plain old Wishing Well, Texas, and things like that didn’t happen here.

  But a girl could dream.

  I pulled away from him, disentangling myself from his body and his strong arms, and spun to face him. Just as much as I’d lost myself in the reality of the moment when we’d been making love, I needed to face the reality of the aftermath. I started to get out of the shower, but he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him.

  He held me there, and we stood for the longest time, neither of us saying anything. I felt his heart beating in his chest. I laid my head on his shoulder. The water streamed over our bodies like a tropical waterfall. It rolled from him onto me, and me onto him, and back again. It was like we were one form. Connected.

  It was the closest I’d ever felt to another person in my entire life. And we never said one word.

  Chapter 19

  Sawyer

  “If you’re fightin’ your heart’s desire, even if you win, you lose.”

  ~ Grant Turner

  “Oh come on,” I mumbled as I grabbed the pillow beside me and put it over my head to try and muffle the snoring noises that were coming from Chewy who was fast asleep at the foot of my bed.

  Sleep was hard enough to come by without the sound effects. I’d never had an issue sleeping before. For most of my life, my days began before dawn, were filled with manual labor, and by the time my head hit the pillow I was out for the count. But these past few weeks it hadn’t worked that way. I was beginning to think that I might be suffering from insomnia. Delilah-Turner-induced insomnia.

  That girl was always on my mind. During the day I’d gotten pretty good at keeping her in the back of it, at least. I still thought about her, but I was able to distract myself with work, with running, with mindless internet surfing. But as I lay down each night and closed my eyes it was like a switch got flipped in my head and all I could do was obsess about her smile, her eyes, her kiss, her moans, her everything. There was no way to drift off when those thoughts were filling my brain.

  It probably didn’t help that I was trying to sleep in the scene of the crime. I was in the same bed that I’d carried her to after our shower and made love to her in again before she fell asleep in my arms.

  I’d washed the sheets, but I could still smell her.

  It’d been a week since my mouth had been on hers and I could still feel her lips.

  I’d left and gone to the office before she woke up, so there wasn’t an awkward morning after. She was gone when I got home that evening, and I hadn’t spoken to her since, yet I could still hear her voice in my head.

  It was driving me bat-shit crazy.

  Every waking moment was a battle not to pick up the phone and call or text her. Every time I was behind the wheel, I fought the urge to drive to The Flower Pot or her house. Every trip into town, I did the opposite of what I used to do, which was to avoid her. Now I looked for her, hoping to catch a glimpse of her sweet smile, her golden hair, her big brown eyes, but never did.

  No matter how much I tried to forget about the night we’d spent together, I couldn’t. Even the times I’d been able to block it out of my mind, my body would remember. I could still feel the silky softness of her hair running through my fingers. I could still smell her unique floral scent. I could still taste the sugary sweetness of her skin. She was branded into my senses.

  My phone rang, and I grabbed it before the first ring ended. It was close to midnight, so that meant it was an emergency, a butt dial, a misplaced booty call, or one of my brothers giving me shit about not being out on a Saturday night. When I saw who it was, I knew it was door number four.

  “What?” I answered when I saw that it was Coop.

  “Get your old ass out of bed and down to the Cow.” His voice was loud so that he could be heard over the talking and music in the background.

  “No.”

  “I’m not asking you to be my wingman. I just want to hang out. We’ll play pool. Drink. It’ll be fun.”

  “No.” I wasn’t trying to be a dick, but I had no desire to be in a room full of people trying to hook up. I didn’t mind hanging out on weeknights, grabbing a beer, playing some darts, but I avoided that place at all costs on the weekends.

  “Is this because you screwed things up with Delilah?”

  “What?” I snapped.

  As far as I knew, no one had any idea that anything had gone on with Delilah. I’d expected some follow-up interrogation after the obvious setup, but neither of my parents had said a word to me.

  “Come on, bro.” Coop said as if it was as obvious as Pinocchio’s nose after he’d lied his wooden ass off. The background noise lessened and I figured he must’ve moved to a quieter place to talk, which didn’t bode well for this call wrapping up anytime soon.

  “Let’s look at the facts,” he continued. “Mom uses her cupid-Spidey-senses to intercept and nix my beer date with Delilah. She pulls her ‘mom card’ and has me send Delilah over to your house instead of meeting me at The Cow and then has dad bring you her famous fried chicken.”

  “And?” I knew exactly what he was getting at, but I wasn’t about to give him anything.

  “And,” he repeated, overemphasizing the word. “Since that night, you’ve been in an even pissier mood than usual, and poor Delilah looks like she’s been Old Yellered.”

  “She what?”

  “She looks like someone shot her dog.”

  Did she?

  I figured that she wasn’t thrilled over me leaving before she woke up, but I didn’t think that it would upset her that bad. I’d done it because I knew that if I’d been there when she woke up in my bed, I would’ve spent the rest of the day keeping her in it. And I’d thought that making a clean break was like ripping off a Band-Aid. It was as quick and as painless as it could possibly get.

  “She’s miserable.” Coop seemed eager to tell me, “I saw her at the Spoon yesterday, and her eyes were all puffy, it was obvious she’d been crying. When I said hi, she smiled and acted like nothing was wrong. I’m not sure if she was trying to convince herself or me.”

  I wanted to ask if she mentioned me but I knew that was a bad idea. Just like listening to any more of this crap. “I gotta go.”

  Coop was still talking, but I hung up before I did something completely out of character and said something that I didn’t want to. My relationship, whatever it was or wasn’t, wasn’t a can of worms I wanted to open with my brother. Or anyone for that matter.

  The second I set my phone down it rang. I picked it up. “What?”

  “I think we got disconnected. I was still talkin—”

  I hung up again and again, he called right back.

  As I picked it up, I inhaled deeply trying not to take out my bad mood due to lack of sleep and frustration on Coop. He was just being his annoying self, and I knew that his behavior—although infuriatingly irritating—came from a good place. “Say what you have to say.”

  “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I think you’re making a big mistake. I saw how you looked at her at the fundraiser. You wanted to kill Brady. Hell, you were ready to kick my ass for asking her to dance.

  “And I saw how she was looking at you. Come to think about it, how she’s always looked at you. Like you could walk on water. Like you’re Superman, Batman, and Romeo all rolled into one. Like the sun rises and sets on you—”

  “Coop.” Once he started down this road, it could be awhile before he got back on track if he was left unchecked.

  “Look, I don’t know if you’re scared, or confused, or just being an asshole. But whatever is stopping you from going for it—you need to get over it. D
elilah is one of a kind. She’s the whole package. The real deal. The Hope Diamond in a world of counterfeits. A once in a lifeti—”

  “Coop. Your point. Get to it.”

  “My point is you two are perfect for each other. She’s the peanut butter to your jelly. The Bonnie to your Clyde. The flip to your flop. The Simon to your Garfunkel. The day to your night. The Buzz to your Lightyear. The salt to your pepper. The Bert to your Ernie. The biscuit to your gravy. The Sam to your Frodo. The cream to your coffee. The Wilma to your Fred. The peaches to your cream. The Thelma to your Louise. The sugar to your tea. The Will to your Grace. The icing to your cake. The Scooby to your Shaggy. The milk to your cookies. The Sandy to your Danny. The sun to your moon. The Beyoncé to your Jay Z. The yin to your yang,” he said with a chuckle, most likely because of the word yang.

  He had the maturity of a twelve-year-old.

  This was the last time I was going to let him comment on my love life, and I wanted to make sure that he got it all out of his system. “You done?”

  “The Chip to your Dale. Okay, I’m done.”

  “Goodbye, Coop.” I hung up.

  I silenced it. It rang again. Closing my eyes, I scrubbed my hands over my face in frustration as I answered the call. “The June to my Johnny, I get it.”

  “Your dad collapsed.”

  “Mom?!”

  “We’re on the way to the hospital now.” Her voice was shaky.

  “I’m on my way.” I was up and pulling on my jeans before I even finished the sentence.

  “Call your brothers and sister.” I could hear muffled sounds of people speaking and machines beeping before she said, “I have to go. I love you.”

  “I love you too, mom.”

  I rushed to put my shoes on and made the calls I needed to, and I fought the urge to call the one person that I actually wanted to tell. There was only one person’s voice that I wanted to hear on the other line, the one person that would make the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach bearable. Delilah. She was the light to my darkness…but that meant I was the darkness to her light, and she deserved better than that.

  Chapter 20

  Delilah

  “A silver lining wouldn’t stand out on a diamond cloud.”

  ~ Grant Turner

  Brand new day. Brand new start. Brand new possibilities.

  I repeated my newly adopted mantra as I walked past the spot where Sawyer and I had collided before the fundraiser. It was only a few weeks ago, but it felt like an eternity.

  If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the way it felt, that day, to be held in his arms. How protected and small I’d felt. How nervous I’d been about going through with my plan. How naïve I’d been that my plan had a chance of working.

  Technically, I guess that it had. Everything that I’d set out to do, I’d done.

  Win the bid. Check.

  Remodel my kitchen. Check.

  Ask Sawyer intimacy questions. Check.

  Seduce Sawyer. Check.

  Live happily ever after with Sawyer…

  Well, I’d accomplished almost everything I’d set out to do. It hadn’t turned out quite how I’d wanted, but, the one positive take away was, I could put that chapter of my life behind me now. It was time for me to stop living in a fantasy world where Sawyer and I end up together. Which was turning out to be a lot easier said than done.

  Pushing all thoughts of what might’ve been out of my mind, I turned the key to open the shop. The chime sounded as I pushed the door open and I flipped on the lights. I took a deep breath in through my nose, loving the distinct scent that had been my favorite smell since I could walk.

  Normally, the shop’s aroma calmed me, centered me, and transported me to a place where my world consisted of floral art and bringing happiness to other people’s lives. And although its potency had been diluted as of late, it still helped. I’d never thought that having sex with someone could affect the five senses, but it had. With each day that passed they dulled even further. It was a subtle decline but seven days in it was becoming too noticeable to dismiss.

  When I’d woken up to a note saying that Sawyer had left to go to work and asking me to “lock up behind me,” I’d told myself that that was what I’d signed up for. He’d made it clear that it was going to be one time, which had turned out to be two times, but…semantics. So, I’d pulled on my big girl panties, literally, got dressed, said goodbye to Chewy, and taken my walk of shame with my head held high.

  The sun was shining. Birds were chirping. The sky was blue and the trees were all vivid shades of green. Nothing seemed amiss. But the next day when I woke up, everything seemed duller, quieter. I checked to see if there was a storm front making everything gray, but there wasn’t. Each day, things lost some of their vibrancy. Even food had lost its flavor. For dinner last night I’d made myself a summer salad with my favorite raspberry vinaigrette, hoping that it would lift my spirits, but it had tasted bland.

  I wasn’t a physician, but I had to believe that my declining senses had more to do with the dark cloud of depression hanging over me and less to do with the sex that I’d had. The symptoms were most likely getting worse each day because the realization that Sawyer had meant what he said was setting in.

  He hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted. He hadn’t contacted me at all.

  I’d seen Coop a few times, and Mr. and Mrs. Briggs as well, but none of them had mentioned Sawyer. And why would they? He wasn’t my boyfriend. I wasn’t even sure he was my friend at this point.

  Trying to shake off the melancholy mood that I’d been in, I turned on the music that played through the speakers during business hours before counting my drawer. I tried to lose myself in the soft melody, but unfortunately, it was LeAnn Rimes’ version of “How Do I Live (Without You).” I shut it off.

  That was not the song I needed to listen to. At least not if I had any hope of snapping out of my funk.

  I made a quick list of to dos today. First up was contacting the bank. On Saturday the five thousand dollar check that I’d written had been mailed back to me with a stamp of the word void on it. When I pulled up my bank balance, sure enough the money was still in my account. I wanted to get it resolved as soon as possible. The fewer reminders I had about my “failed” plan the better.

  After counting out my drawer, I unlocked the door and before I’d even turned the closed sign to open, Mrs. Higgins, Sawyer’s receptionist walked in.

  “Hi,” I smiled brightly as my heart sped the same way it had when I’d seen Coop and Mr. and Mrs. Briggs around town this week.

  It wasn’t lost on me that it was utterly ridiculous that I was now getting butterflies just seeing people that were associated with Sawyer. It didn’t even need to be the man himself for me to swoon. That was a problem.

  “Good morning, sweetie.” She rushed in, flustered and distracted. “I tried to call, but I got the answering machine.”

  “Oh, sorry, I just got in and haven’t checked the messages.”

  She stopped and looked at me with a strange expression. “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Higgins reached out and covered my hand with hers. “Walker Briggs had a heart attack last night.”

  “What?!” I asked in disbelief. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s out of surgery, and as far as I know, everything went well.”

  “What about Sawyer? Is Sawyer okay?”

  “Sawyer is at the hospital, he’s…Sawyer.” She squeezed my hand. “He says he’s okay. I think he’s mainly concerned about his mom and his siblings.”

  “Of course.” I instantly felt guilty that I hadn’t asked about his mom. “How is Mrs. Briggs?”

  “She has a lot of support.” She patted my hand before lowering it. “I’m sure it helps to have her kids there. You know Dolly, family is everything to her. I was thinking I should send her an arrangement as well as Walker.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I encouraged.


  I did my best to pay attention as she explained to me what she was thinking of regarding size and style, but all I could think about was Sawyer and what he must be going through. One of the intimacy questions I’d posed to him was which family member’s death would affect you the most. His answer was automatic, his sister Harmony. But after a beat, he’d added, and my dad.

  I wanted to call him, to make sure that he was okay. Well, actually, I wanted to go to the hospital to see for myself if he was okay, but I didn’t think that was appropriate.

  We’d had what was the equivalent of a one-night stand. Why would he want to see me or hear from me? That was fantasyland. Back in reality, I knew that my need to make sure he was okay was about me, not him.

  A ring sounded, and Mrs. Higgins pulled out her phone. “Hello.” She glanced back down at it and then put it to her ear again. “Sawyer? Can you hear me?”

  “Reception is horrible in here,” I explained, and she hurried outside.

  I watched her through the glass talking to the man that unfortunately was the current landlord of my heart and I selfishly wished that I were the one who was talking to him.

  After a few minutes, Mrs. Higgins came back in and above the sound of the chimes I asked, “How is he?”

  She placed her hand on her chest and relief washed over her face. “He’s awake.”

  Oh, right. Mr. Briggs. Wow. First I was selfish and now I was completely inconsiderate. Love really did bring out the best in me.

  “That’s great!” I enthused, glad that she hadn’t caught that I’d been asking about a different Briggs man.

  As Mrs. Higgins made her selections and filled out cards I decided that, whether he wanted to hear from me or not, I was going to text Sawyer to tell him that I was sorry and that I was thinking of him and that if he needed anything I was here. I was also going to deliver these arrangements to the hospital personally. Our regular delivery boy was at camp as a counselor for the next two weeks. My dad usually picked up the slack, but I would gladly volunteer to do this run.