by Lia Riley
“I’m sorry.” She dabbed her eyes. “That was uncalled for. I’m fine and should really be—”
“Follow me.”
She blinked in red-eyed confusion. “Please, don’t bring me in. I’m sorry about the stop sign. If you need to write me a ticket you can—”
“I’m not taking you to the sheriff’s office,” he said, touching her shoulder. She tensed but didn’t move away. Beneath that too-thick cotton was bare skin. The idea of being that close to her hit him like a shot of tequila in a Red Bull. “You still like hot chocolate?”
“Hot chocolate?” The boy perked. “We love hot chocolate, don’t we, Mommy?”
Mommy. In ten years, Annie had become a woman, and a mother. And yet, some things never changed. She still had a weakness for chocolate. And despite everything, he still had a weakness for her.
“A new coffee shop in town opened up today,” he said. “I’ve been told it’s going to be good. The test will be if the new owner can make a mean hot chocolate.”
“It must be eighty degrees out.”
He rubbed his chin, already covered with scruff despite the morning’s careful shave. “That never stopped the Annie Carson I knew.”
That earned a glimmer of a real smile, small, but her eyes brightened. “You got me there.”
He stood. “So you’ll follow me?”
“But you’re working. I don’t want to take your time. It’s fine.”
“Fine. You keep using that word.” But saying a thing didn’t make it true. He knew because he’d been feeding himself the same line and still felt hungry. The bachelor life with Maverick was fine. He liked his job, had a good house, and could watch a ball game or fish whenever he wanted.
But shouldn’t life be better than fine? Something full, rich, and real?
“Mommy, can we go with the sheriff? Please, please, plea—”
“Fine.” She wrinkled her nose, catching herself, and glanced back to her son. “I mean, okay. Yes. After all, don’t we deserve a treat?”
“I think you do.” Sawyer didn’t mean it to sound suggestive, but she blushed all the way to the tips of her ears. Hell, maybe he did. His reflection stared from the back window. Sometimes he hid his thoughts so well even he didn’t know where to find them. That wasn’t the case now. He looked like a man on a mission. Something told him Annie needed a heavy dose of sweetness.
SAWYER HELD OPEN the door to Haute Coffee.
“Cute name,” Annie murmured, looking around. The interior was cuter still, with wooden floors polished to a warm honey-gold, exposed brick walls showcasing vintage travel posters from the region, and a pressed-tin ceiling gleaming in the morning light. This was a spot where she could curl up with a good book or work on the blog. Her kind of place.
“Today is the grand opening,” Sawyer said. “Looks like it’s going well.”
Most of the tables were full and a striking woman frothed milk behind the counter, her thick red hair held back by a paisley headband. She glanced in their direction with a distracted smile. “Welcome! Be right with you.”
Annie racked her brain, but couldn’t place the barista, who exuded a casual but stylish poise. She’d have remembered someone with that vivid hair color. Plus, all her freckles contributed to a unique but undeniably eye-catching look.
“Her name is Edie and she’s new in town.” Sawyer leaned close to whisper into her ear. “The rumor mill claims she comes from New York City.”
His breath teased the side of Annie’s neck, a heat that spread south, leaving her breasts full and aching. “A friend of yours?” she managed to grind out.
“Archer knows her. I’m not sure how they met, but he seems to have taken an interest of sorts.”
“Your brother?” Even in his teens, Archer had a way with women. Lots of women. “Who isn’t he interested in?”
“Well . . . I don’t think he’s made the rounds at the nursing home. Yet.”
Annie was surprised to find herself smiling, a real smile, something that seemed impossible twenty minutes ago. She gave Sawyer a grateful look. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“Thanks for saying yes.” His hooded gaze dropped to her mouth. “You know, smiling is a good look on you.”
A delicious warmth spread through her lower belly as if she’d already drank the promised hot chocolate.
“Um . . . ” Edie discretely cleared her throat. “Are you ready to order?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.” Annie placed a hand on the side of her neck, her pulse pounding beneath her fingers.
“Can we have a cupcake too, Mommy?” Atticus pressed his face against the glass display case.
“A cupcake and hot chocolate? That’s a lot of sugar.”
“It’s hazelnut with Nutella frosting,” Edie said with a conspiratorial wink.
“You don’t play fair.” Annie’s mouth dropped. “How can anyone resist?”
Edie’s aloof expression disappeared with a laugh that was shy but genuine. “That’s my hope.”
A Mumford & Sons song came on over the sound system and Annie sighed, “Ah. This is my favorite song,” right as Edie said, “Hey, I love this song.”
They exchanged warm glances. How nice to meet someone new in Brightwater, a woman who didn’t know her as a kooky Carson, who liked great music, good coffee, and Nutella. The tension left her shoulders as Sawyer placed their orders, adding a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie to the mix and insisting on paying despite her protests.
“I’ll bring this all right out,” Edie said as more people came through the front door.
“It looks like your first day in business is a success,” Annie said.
“Such a relief.” Edie took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure how the town would react to a new coffee shop. The Baker’s Dozen has been around forever.”
Annie nodded with understanding. “People here can be slow to embrace change.”
“I’m learning that, but still, I’m determined to make it work.”
“Well, for as long as I’m in town, plan on me being a regular customer,” Annie said. “Nutella lovers need to stick together.”
“That sounds like a deal.” Edie giggled. “Are you here for a visit?”
Annie glanced to the booth where Atticus was laughing at some story of Sawyer’s. “No. I’m selling my family farm. Then moving to San Francisco to expand my business or maybe start a new project.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a mommy blogger. I know, it sounds strange, right?” Annie added quickly.
Edie leaned forward on her elbows. “Don’t undersell yourself! You are an entrepreneur.”
That put a certain glamor into what was essentially working from her kitchen table in yoga pants. “I don’t know about that. I haven’t used my journalism degree in so long that I’m not sure it’s worth the paper it’s printed on.”
Edie gave her a considered look, absently chewing the corner of her lip. “You know what, I should introduce you to my cousin. He’s new in town too and works in media. We could all have dinner together.”
The idea of dinner out in Brightwater sounded strange. She hadn’t expected to come back and make friends, rather keep her head down and get out as soon as possible. But the hesitant eagerness in Edie’s eyes was hard to resist. It had been a long time since she’d had a girlfriend. Someone that she wasn’t simply trying to coordinate play dates with.
“I’d like that.”
“Me too,” Edie said softly. “I’ll get your order going.” She turned before pausing and looking back. “I’m so happy we met.”
Annie walked to the booth, grinning. Sawyer and Atticus were chuckling. What did he think about the fact that she had a son? Most single guys weren’t lining up around the block to date a divorced mom with a child.
Not that this was a date. Purely platonic. Possi
bly even a pity party.
He glanced up and—oh, whoa, his hot, hooded gaze wasn’t anything pitying. She might as well be covered in Nutella with a cherry on top.
“Wh-what’s so funny?” she stammered, sliding into the bench beside Atticus, rubbing her palms on her shorts.
“The sheriff told me a story about how he broke his arm as a kid. His big brother pushed him out of a tree.”
“That’s terrible!” Annie said, vaguely remembering Wilder. He was a big guy, quiet, broody, and a little dangerously unsettling. But she had never taken him for being an outright bully.
“Oh, I asked for it,” Sawyer replied.
“I don’t believe that.”
“No, I literally asked for it.” His laugh lines crinkled around his eyes. “Told him to push me. Guess I’d watched Superman a few too many times.”
“You thought you could fly?” Atticus asked, confused.
“Yep. And found out I couldn’t the hard way. Wore a cast most of the summer. The best part was getting it signed.”
“Signed?” Atticus stared curiously.
“Yeah, you ask people you like to sign the cast. Collect autographs.”
Atticus looked down at his cast and mumbled, “Would you sign mine?”
Sawyer glanced at Annie. “Is that okay?”
Sometimes the past and present pushed up against each other, and at the peak was a sharp unexpected sweetness, an almost unbearable beauty. She nodded slowly.
Sawyer pulled a black Sharpie from his front pocket. Atticus laid his cast on the table and Sawyer printed his name in careful, bold letters.
“Sawyer Kane,” Atticus said, sounding out the words.
Sawyer gave a slow nod. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to you earlier. Your mama is one of my oldest friends.”
“She’s never talked about you. She never talks about anyone here.”
Sawyer gave her a long, impenetrable look. “Guess she has her reasons.”
Atticus sat back in his seat and looked out over Main Street. “I like this place.”
The silence dragged after that, one, two, three long seconds before Edie appeared with the tray. Three hot chocolates, a cupcake cut in half, and one slice of pie.
Saved by dessert.
“I hope you enjoy,” Edie said, passing out forks. “And I’ll be in touch about connecting you with my cousin. I’m looking forward to having you around. I could use a friend.”
Annie smiled. “Me too.”
After Edie left, Sawyer nudged her foot with his boot. “Hey, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”
“That might be my fault,” she said. “When I heard the hammering this morning, I thought Grandma—”
“That woman singlehandedly raised me and my brothers. I love her for it, but that doesn’t mean she’s not crazier than a sackful of raccoons.”
It was hard to speak when his gaze glued to her face. Didn’t he realize how stare-worthy he was? Once she started, she couldn’t stop. “You were trying to set things right. I guess I’m not used to people doing nice things for no reason.”
Not smart, putting herself out there like this. She’d fashioned battle armor for a reason, because she was soft, too soft, and here she went making herself vulnerable again.
“You deserve good things,” he said quietly.
“Do I?” She wanted to look away, needed to if she hoped to draw her next breath, but his calm, steady gaze had her on lockdown.
“I think so.”
Whoa, Nelly. This conversation was too deep, too quick, for two almost strangers in the middle of a coffee shop.
She’d left this town swearing she’d never think of Sawyer Kane again. And over the years that proved impossible. Every so often she’d wonder what he was up to. Had he married? Did he have kids? Perhaps yes, she oh-so-quietly rued the fact he eschewed social media in an age when most people posted everything from what random snack they ate after the gym to humblebrags to yet another invite to play freaking Candy Crush (the answer always and forever was no).
“How come you haven’t settled down?” she blurted.
“I nearly did, once.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Got engaged even.”
The sharp pang in her chest was unfair. She couldn’t be jealous. It was stupid, irrational, and yep, she totally was. “To who?”
“Ruby King.”
Her heart deflated like a pinpricked balloon. Ruby had once been the Queen Bee of Brightwater High School, captain of the cheerleading squad, and her father ran the largest realty company in two counties, buying her a red convertible on her Sweet Sixteen. Everywhere that Ruby went, the boys had been sure to follow.
Face it, Ruby made sense, for Sawyer.
The sort of perfect girl the star pitcher would settle down with.
“Things didn’t work out.”
“Oh.” She shouldn’t pry but she broke out the conversational crowbar nevertheless. “Why?”
“If you’re going to spend forever with someone, it’s got to be the right kind of love.” He cleared his throat. “The real kind of love.”
“The real kind—what, no artificial flavors?” Annie kept her tone light and teasing. When in doubt, or your nerves threaten to strangle, go for a joke.
He didn’t smile. Instead, he slanted closer, folding his hands on the table between them. “The kind that when you know, you know.”
The way he stared, it was as if he wanted to send her a telepathic message . . . or eye fuck her. There was a charged beat. Then another. Holy Mother of God. How had she forgotten that look?
And that was the problem, she never had.
Chapter Six
SAWYER STRODE EAST on Main Street toward the rodeo grounds for the Brightwater Fourth of July fireworks. The lead glass over The Dirty Shame’s front door still sported a bullet hole from a Kane and Carson disagreement during the Roaring Twenties. Official word stated no blood was spilled in the saloon that night, but Grandma swore Old Man Carson took buckshot in the ass.
Sawyer shoved a hand into his worn jeans, grazing the peppermint he’d grabbed when leaving Haute Coffee yesterday. Since their mid-morning date, Annie had been a near fixture in his mind. Even though his boots stayed planted to the earth, he felt himself falling hard and fast. Like it or not, he kept rewinding the details to play again in slow motion. The way she shivered when he leaned close. How her eyelids fluttered as she bit into the cupcake. Or how difficult it seemed to be for her to hold his gaze.
But when she did, something bubbled between them, an undeniable chemistry.
Opening the cellophane, he stuck the candy into his mouth and bit down. The other undeniable truth was that it had been a while. A long fucking while.
Get a grip.
There was a risk of playing mad scientist, being an overeager dickhead who’d rush his last shot with her and have everything blow up in his face.
Two other complications were also slowing him down. He chewed the peppermint and mulled the facts.
First, he was a simple man, content with a modest country life. He couldn’t offer a woman a castle in the clouds, and in the end that was what Ruby had wanted. He didn’t get the impression Annie coveted any sort of wild, jet-setting lifestyle, but she had made it clear her future was in San Francisco, while his roots were firmly sunk in this land.
Second, she had a son, Atticus. He liked children fine, but hadn’t grown up with a father figure. He’d pet a kid’s head on occasion, or throw a football around at a family picnic, but he didn’t have a clue how to actually interact with one. Sure, he could tell funny stories about the crazy things he and his brothers got up to as boys. But acting as any sort of a parenting role model?
The noise from the festivity increased. He waved at a few familiar faces, always keeping one step back or forward from the clusters of people filing inside.
The children’s activities were in full swing, kids busy with the watermelon seed spitting contest, frog jumping, or the burlap sack race. From the stage, ancient speakers blared live music. Currently, Old Man Fred banged out a polka on his accordion. No blonde pixie in sight.
But Annie was amazing, so that made her son pretty damn amazing too. The idea of spoiling them and being part of their lives was addictive. Who knew what the future held, but he might as well find out once and for all, because, yeah, he’d wondered.
Even during the Ruby years, he’d wake with a start, chest covered in cool sweat. He’d gained whatever success guys like him were meant to achieve—a beautiful woman, a good, stable job . . . but in the quiet night, his thoughts drifted to the boy he’d been, the chance he’d lost, and regret filled his mouth like sawdust.
A splash of pink caught his attention.
A hot pink cast.
Atticus stood at the far end of the watermelon seed spitting contest. It didn’t look as if he’d be turning pro any time soon. Hell, with that range, he’d never make it to the minor leagues, but the kid’s heart was into it, that much was obvious. Annie must be—
“Didn’t think I’d see you here, man.” Archer, his youngest brother, a wrangler on a nearby dude ranch, sidled up, pointing to a flask in his hip pocket.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Come on.” Archer punched his shoulder. “Stop taking life so seriously. None of us gets out of here alive. Have you seen all the new women in town? Word to the wise, man, they’ve come looking for the Wild West. Give ’em a wink under that Stetson and they’ll ride you like a mechanical bull.”
“Easy, Slick.” Sawyer held up a warning hand. The Eastern Sierras gossips were kept in business from Walker to Lake Point tracking Archer’s romantic exploits.
“All I’m saying is it’s no crime to end a night with a bang, big brother. Just trying to look out for you.” Archer gazed into the crowd with the same single-minded focus he exhibited rounding up cattle. “Unless you have someone specific in mind?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sawyer muttered, but his brother only walked away, shaking his head with a sly chuckle. Then the crowd parted, Sawyer’s eyes connected with a deep blue pair across the grounds, and all his thoughts flat-lined.
