by Lia Riley
Sawyer sat back in his chair. “Looks like I’m going to need to stage an intervention. So, you’ve never thrown the ball around?”
“Nope.”
“Do you own a glove or bat?”
Atticus shook his head, hiding his bashful smile behind a sip of his water.
“You disapprove?” Annie asked Sawyer.
“No,” he said after swallowing. “But I think I could help out this situation.”
And as Annie glanced between Sawyer to Atticus, currently staring at the man with open fascination, something told her he could do exactly that.
Chapter Nineteen
“WENT FOR A ride?” Archer sauntered into the barn as Sawyer removed Ranger’s saddle, giving the stock horse an affectionate pat on the haunches. His younger brother had a bachelor pad apartment upstairs, but he wasn’t home much.
“Looks like it.” Sawyer took off the saddle blanket. What was Archer up to? Usually he was too busy hanging at the bar with friends or chasing skirts to spend time at Hidden Rock.
“Okay, smart ass.” Archer leaned against the wall, uncorking a flask.
“Drinking before noon is one thing,” Sawyer said, furrowing his brow as he checked the horse’s hooves. His brother needed to start taking life more seriously. It wasn’t one big party. “Drinking before nine is another animal all together.”
Archer raised it up. “It’s water. I don’t have another bottle.”
“Really? That’s a surprise,” Sawyer muttered, glancing up when Archer kicked a hay bale with sudden force.
“Everyone thinks they know me, but no one ever takes the time to see who I really am.”
Sawyer straightened at that, tilting back his hat to wipe his forehead. “What the hell do you think I see?”
“A screwup,” Archer snapped defensively. “Only good for having fun.”
Sawyer hooked his thumbs under his belt. “Not true.” That was all his brother did, but he was smart, had a good head for figures and the natural charisma of a leader. He could do anything he put his mind to, if he’d only try.
“Hey, I know where I fit in the Kane brother pecking order. Wilder, he’s the bad ass. And you? Well, shit. You’re you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The good guy.” Archer hooked a hand around the back of his neck. “Aw hell. Look, I’m not trying to dump my crap on you.”
“Hey, I’m family, means you have a year-round dumping license.”
“Nah. It’s all good.” He took another slug of water.
“I do think you like fun.” Sawyer weighed his words carefully. His brother hadn’t ever approached him for any sort of heart to heart before. He didn’t want to squander the opportunity. “But I also think you want to stay in the shallows, that you’re afraid of going out deeper.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” Archer bristled.
Something had crawled up his ass, but what?
“Suit yourself.” Sawyer hung the saddle on the peg. “I’m afraid of lots of things.” If he wanted Arch to be honest, he’d best be honest too.
“You?” Archer braced his hand on a stable door. “What are you afraid of, Big Man?”
“Women, mostly,” Sawyer said wryly. One tiny, pixie-haired woman in particular.
“That’s the truth.” Archer gave him a tentative glance. “I’ve got one that scares the shit out of me.”
“That right?” Archer had never looked this shaken up over anyone from the opposite sex.
Archer shook his head. “Enough about me. What’s the story with you and Annie Carson?”
Sawyer stilled. “What do you mean?”
“So it’s true then?” Archer whistled low. “When I first saw her back in town, I wondered if you’d make a move. Took Grandma to confirm it. She’s got one hell of a bee in her bonnet this morning.”
Shit. “So she knows?”
“I guess she watched Annie and her little boy leave last night.”
Sawyer resisted the urge to face-palm. Grandma had spied on him? Why should that be a surprise? Of course she did.
“Got to say,” Archer said, “I’m not seeing great things coming from this situation.”
“The feud stops with me,” Sawyer responded firmly. “And if you say a thing about Kooky—”
“I’m not talking about any of that. You know I don’t give a shit.”
“I invited a neighbor to dinner. Her son has never ridden a horse, he’s never even thrown a ball around, Arch.”
“So that’s it then, you’re going to play daddy? Be the hero?” Archer looked skeptical.
Sawyer made a warning note in the back of his throat. “You can talk out your ass with your friends all you want, but don’t ever say a fucking word sideways about Annie or her son.”
“I’m not.” Archer threw up his hands. “Jesus, man, listen to yourself. I might like the shallows, but you’re in over your head.”
Sawyer watered the horse. Archer had no idea how deep he’d gone.
He hadn’t made love to Annie yet, even though the wait might actually kill him. On more than a few occasions in life he’d sported a pair of blue balls, but never this bad, to where it caused physical pain and kept him on the sweet edge of anticipation.
Sure, he’d had plenty of sex, even sex he’d thought was love. But that was a pale imitation, a shadow on the wall, flickering but not real.
“Remember she’s leaving.” Archer’s cautionary tone returned Sawyer to the present.
He hated his brother’s words. They hit him with a sudden wallop, the way the truth often does. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
The whole reason he held off taking their relationship more physical was for the same reason Archer said. Annie had never given an indication she’d stay. But—
“I saw her yesterday.” Archer gave a sad smile. “Downtown at King Realty. After I left Haute Coffee, Five Diamonds was listed in the window. For a pretty price too.”
Sawyer swallowed thickly, saying nothing. It was all he had at the moment so it seemed about right. He wasn’t making any headway in convincing Annie to stay, and time was running out. What would happen if he failed? San Francisco wasn’t on the other side of the country. Still, seven hours by car was serious long-distance.
“You’ve had it bad for that girl a long time. Maybe—”
“Don’t.” Sawyer held a warning hand. “Don’t tell me to have fun with her.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Archer said, eyes darkening. “If you want her to stay, lay it all on the line. But be careful, okay? As much as I’d like to see you get the girl, I don’t want you getting hurt either.”
Sawyer swung out his hand and Archer clasped it back.
“Thanks, man,” he said, pulling back, but not before giving Archer a playful cuff on the chin. “When did you get wise?”
“By learning from my mistakes,” Archer said with a sheepish smile. He turned, walking out with a whistle.
ANNIE MADE YET another trip to the small Mammoth airport. This time, Atticus was off to meet Gregor and Margot. They’d go to Disneyland and then visit Gregor’s mother in San Diego, a stoic Czech woman who never really acknowledged Annie and would probably never notice she wasn’t there.
“Are you getting excited, honey?” Annie asked, kneeling in front of her son, already holding the flight attendant’s hand, his pink cast covered in black scribbles. “Ninja marks” he called them.
“Will Ursula be there?” he asked again nervously.
All he knew about Disney was The Little Mermaid DVD she’d found in her old bedroom. She tried sharing it with him and he nearly had a stroke when the sea witch sang about poor unfortunate souls.
“Nah, you’ll meet Mickey and Minnie.”
“Those are the big mice,” he repeated, liking everything categorized. Ordered.
/> He was so different than she’d been at his age, more cautious, wanting to label things.
Maybe she’d been a bad influence, too much helicopter parenting when he should be out climbing trees, chasing garter snakes, and going fishing in the big hole along the river. Instead he stayed close to home. She felt better having him near, but also guilty that she wasn’t letting him free range. He didn’t ask to roam because he knew what she’d say. “Let me come with you.”
And now, here she was doing an action that felt unnatural to her core. Letting him get on a plane, alone with strangers, and fly to Los Angeles where his father would meet him.
“All right, big boy, we’ve got to get up in the sky,” the stewardess said.
The yellow button pinned to his t-shirt read, “Unaccompanied Minor.”
Maybe she should go back to the ticketing desk. She didn’t have much money but could fly with him and then hop a plane home.
“Your first time doing this, Mama?” the flight attendant asked with a friendly smile.
Annie nodded. Why couldn’t she return the smile? Probably because her heart was breaking.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him. You like apple juice, big man?”
“Uh . . . ” He glanced at Annie. “I’m not allowed to drink juice.”
“Go ahead, it’s a special occasion.” Annie ignored the strange look from the flight attendant. Juice was basically sugar water, but maybe the kid could have a taste once in a blue moon. It wasn’t as if he survived on Wonder Bread and gummy bears.
“Love you, Mommy.”
She kissed her two fingers and held them out to him.
“I love you more.”
And then the flight attendant led him up the gangway and he was gone.
Annie stood there alone, the crazy crying lady in the airport. She collapsed in a hard plastic chair and watched the plane push back from the gate. She didn’t move until the buzzing engine faded over the mountains.
When she left the airport there was no one to hold hands with. When she crossed the street she didn’t have to remind anyone to look both ways. When she got to the car no one needed buckling up.
She adjusted the review mirror and stared at herself.
This was the first time in five years she’d been alone. Who was she if she wasn’t a mother?
“Hi, Annie,” she said, looking at the stranger. “I’m Annie.”
And she didn’t know the first thing to do with herself.
Chapter Twenty
[draft]
Musings of a Mighty Mama
Home Alone
older posts>>
Dear Readers,
Atticus is in Disneyland for the week and that means I’m pulling a Macaulay Culkin. Home alone! Wow! Since my son’s birth, we’ve never been apart from each other for more than a single night, and that was only recently when my sexy hot cowboy sheriff neighbor came over for dinner but had me on the kitchen table instead.
The house feels overwhelming silent. I am terrified love the idea that for the next few days I can do whatever I want. Likely host a private Richard Armitage film festival, wash windows in my underwear and eat cereal from the box. This will be good, a chance to find myself where the heck did I go?. Figure out a few things what am I doing?.
ANNIE THUMPED HER laptop lid closed and ignored the ceramic pig cookie jar’s judgmental look as she grabbed the third cookie in as many minutes. Her Realtor had a full day of visits scheduled tomorrow and wanted her out of the house. Maybe she’d drive up for a visit to Bodie Ghost Town or work from Haute Coffee.
She should be thrilled the interest in Five Diamonds was huge. There would likely be a bidding war, the farm commanding top dollar, enough to get her and Atticus into a cute place in a laid-back San Francisco family neighborhood like Noe Valley. A bright, shiny new future hovered on the horizon, perfect in its promise. So why did she want to cram a fourth snickerdoodle into her mouth, add some Kahlua to her milk, and build a blanket fort under the kitchen table?
Sawyer.
He’d gotten under her skin and carved his name in secret places. As much as she wanted to admit otherwise, leaving him would be near impossible. And that was all the more reason to do so. Of course she wanted to lean on him. His quiet strength was addictive, and he stood ready to carry her burdens. He was a great guy, and for some lucky local girl, he’d make a wonderful husband. She buried her face in her hands.
Sawyer would never leave Brightwater.
Everything had gotten so complicated. Her old rule was broken in two. Don’t fall head over cowgirl boots for the cute guy from a ranch.
But how did a woman resist Sawyer Kane?
Kind and strong? Check.
Turned you on like a sudden light in the dark? Check.
Had a sense of humor? Check.
Could snap someone in two if they messed with you? Check.
Was sweet to your son? Check.
Checkmate.
She was screwed.
But when she left, while there might be tears, there couldn’t be regret. The past felt mighty close the last few weeks, but once she left, she’d have breathing room again.
Right?
How many times could she repeat “this is all for the best” before believing it. The line was like one of those Tootsie Roll pops, keep licking and eventually you’ll reach the sweet center, right? Please, God, let selling the house be a good decision. Atticus was a gentle soul. Growing up in Brightwater, being teased as a kooky Carson, could be too hard on him—the same way it had been for her. He’d love living close to Claire. And the city had professional opportunities. She kept repeating those facts like a broken record, but they weren’t making her feel any better.
A knock came at the door.
Sawyer.
How did she know he was outside? Hard to say. Maybe it was the way something intangible shifted in the air. Her body going into hyperdrive. As much as she wanted to cling to common sense, there were parts of her eager to get into the rapids, craving lust, passion, and lo—no, not the l-word. Had to draw the daydream line somewhere.
She opened the door, still holding half a cookie.
He stared as she licked sugar from her fingertips.
“How’re you doing without Atticus? He left this morning, right?” Sawyer rocked on his boots. “I came to check on you.”
Of course he did. That was Sawyer, what he did. He made sure you didn’t need anything, totally unaware his mere presence made her need all the things—hard, fast, slow, and soft.
“Are you okay?” He looked closer. “You’re flushed.”
“I’m great. Here, take a bite.” She slid the cookie between his lips and he bit down, a crumb sticking to the corner of his lip. Reaching up she brushed it away, and he caught her wrist, biting the fleshy part of her thumb.
She gasped and then he kissed her, in the center of her forehead, with the way he had that was exquisitely gentle and possessive, as if he made his claim but also treasured it.
“I want you—”
“Yes,” she said, as he finished with “to come somewhere with me.”
If she glanced at her toes right now, even they would be beet red.
Two mischievous little lines bracketed the corners of his mouth.
There was no way out of this awkward situation but straight through it. “I do want you. I can’t stop.”
“Come here.” He crushed her against him, resting his chin on top of her head.
She breathed in sawdust, laundry soap, and the faintest spicy trace of aftershave. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” He mimed zipping his lips. “You’ll need to pack a few things. A bathing suit and some warm clothes. I’ve got the rest covered.”
“Let me get this straight—you came over here asking if I’d go away t
o a mysterious place, and you already packed in the affirmative as if you knew my answer.”
“That a problem?”
“I should be more annoyed but can’t muster the strength. Your country charm works voodoo on me.”
“I can increase the charm.”
“I have no doubt of that.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “But I wish I wasn’t so easy to predict.”
“Trust me on this one,” Sawyer said, slinging an arm around her waist and nuzzling her neck. “There isn’t anyone else like you.”
“I’m pretty sure frazzled single moms are a dime a dozen.”
“You mean pixie dazzlers who know how to kiss?”
“I’m a good kisser?”
He chuckled. “I’ve kissed plenty of girls in my time, but never any like you.”
“Hrumph.” She gave his chest a pretend slap. “Bet you tell all those many girls the same line.”
“Lines? I don’t have lines, only the truth.” He reached out and bracketed her waist, rubbing the arc of her hip bones with his thumbs. “I see here a woman who needs to be kissed long and hard by a guy who knows what he’s doing.”
“And you know what you’re doing, huh?” she murmured.
“Unless you’re telling me otherwise.” He leaned in and his mouth covered hers.
“Annabelle?” Another man cleared his throat and spoke her name a little louder. “Annabelle Carson?”
She froze mid-kiss, realizing she’d lost track of the last few minutes, that her shirt was unbuttoned two buttons below seemly and Sawyer’s other hand had found a home holding the back of her thigh.
“I’m parked down on the road. Wanted to let you know that I’ll be setting up the open-house sign.” Her Realtor’s cheerful smile evaporated. “Sheriff,” he said stiffly.
“Hank.” Sawyer gave a tight nod.
The Realtor cleared his throat and clapped his hands. “Doesn’t look like this is the best time, so, uh, I’ll get busy doing what I need to do and be back tomorrow. You’re heading out?”
“Yes.” She glanced at Sawyer. “It appears I have plans.”
