The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

by Kate Angell

  “You sound like Sawyer,” he said with a nod toward wherever Sawyer had headed. She refused to turn around to find out.

  “Well, I’m sure there are more than just two of us from—”

  “You know him,” Crane said, narrowing his eyes.

  Sidney’s tongue faltered, and she cleared her throat.

  “You’re from the same place, aren’t you?” he asked. “The same little hick town.”

  “Because we both have an accent?” she asked, laughing, hoping it would cover up her lie.

  “Because of how I just saw him look at you,” Crane said, studying Sidney with a grin. “Like a lovesick schoolboy. Holy shit, you’re her.”

  Sidney’s breath felt trapped in her chest, unable to move in or out, just held captive there. Sawyer had a her? And she was it? “I—I’m who?”

  “The girl he came to town all messed up over,” Crane said, crossing his own arms. “A hundred years ago. Well, well, well.”

  All messed up over.

  After punching out his own father.

  Defending her.

  Damn it if all her carefully constructed and ancient defenses weren’t crumbling around her regarding him. The boy who shattered her already shaky confidence. The reason she bitterly swore off love and dove into work, into making herself a hard and formidable beast. A beast without people skills but still. And now . . .

  “We were friends in high school, yes,” Sidney managed to push out, her voice sounding decidedly wobbly. “That has no bearing on Mr. Teasdale’s case.”

  “Which came to you how, again?” Crane asked.

  Sidney smiled. “I’ll ask the questions.”

  Crane winked, and she so much wanted to slug him. “Nice deflection. What firm are you with?”

  “Finley and Blossom.”

  “Blossom?” he asked. And it wasn’t about the name. It was recognition. Shit.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “His damn niece,” Crane said, slapping a big hand against the ladder. “I forgot she was a lawyer. Damn it. She sent you.”

  Oh, seven kinds of hell, now this wall was disintegrating, too. She needed a suit of armor.

  “Everything okay?” said a voice from directly behind her. A voice that sent shock waves to all her nether regions, especially coupled with the hand that rested on the back of her neck. Crap, she needed more than armor. Sidney needed a force field.

  “I work for her,” Sidney said, ignoring Sawyer’s question and fighting the urge to settle back against him.

  “And you need to bring back the win,” Crane said, chuckling.

  God help her if she was ever up against this asshole in court. He could read her too easily. Or maybe she’d always been this easy. Sawyer’s thumb moved a micro-centimeter along her skin, and her heart slammed against her breastbone. Then again, maybe he was just her Kryptonite.

  “Mr. Crane,” Sidney said, moving one step forward so that Sawyer’s hand would slip away. “Will you tell me why you are so hell-bent on keeping my client in this lease? Why you won’t just charge the penalties and be done? Why you won’t just take the much simpler route?”

  Crane looked off as if studying the vast pumpkin battle plans before him.

  “I can get your car in the shop and off the street,” he said. “But if there are parts needed—”

  “There are,” Sawyer said behind her.

  “Then Oscar won’t be able to get them until Monday,” he finished.

  “Monday?” Sidney exclaimed.

  “At the earliest,” Crane said, climbing back up the ladder. “Best I can do, sorry. Guess you need to call in a few days’ vacation to that stuck-up boss of yours.”

  * * *

  Sawyer was about to crawl out of his damn skin. It was as if a switch was flipped back there. Ever since he touched her. Ever since he caught her and held her against him. Now he couldn’t quit. He couldn’t get enough. If Sidney was within touching distance, his hands had to find her.

  Which was an easy enough fix. He just needed to get her out of his truck. Out of his day. Out of his town.

  Out of his head.

  That one would be harder. It took a long time the first go-around.

  And now she wouldn’t be leaving Sunday. Or Monday. Maybe Tuesday. Hell, he’d drive her to Boston personally by then.

  He waited for the never-in-a-hurry Oscar to come with the tow truck, complaining about days off and wearing shoes and a multitude of other things. Waited for Sidney to update Teasdale on where they stood. Waited for her to slide those legs across his seat again, so he could drive around in a state of torture.

  “Do you have enough clothes to make it that many days?” he asked once they were moving again.

  Sidney sighed. “Well, I assume Amelia Rose has a washer and dryer?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll be okay,” she said. “I always bring an extra casual outfit for the return home. Maybe I’ll be the laid-back lawyer tomorrow.”

  “That might be better,” Sawyer said, changing hands on the wheel so his right hand didn’t go wandering.

  “I was joking.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “It might be more approachable. You could give Crane another shot tomorrow.”

  “You saying I look uptight?” Sidney asked, crossing a leg and making him do a double take. Again.

  If uptight meant so hot that he wanted to shove that skirt up and do her right there in his truck, then yes. God, yes.

  “I’m saying you looked like a million bucks, trying to reach a man on a ladder throwing pumpkins,” he said.

  “So I should have thrown a pumpkin?” she asked.

  He grinned in her direction. “Might have been worth it.”

  The breathy little chuckle that accompanied the tug at her lips made his dick twitch. In that one second, she reminded him of the old days. Of the them they once were. He shook his head free of that. That was the last place he needed to go.

  “Making a quick stop before going back to the cottage,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “My place.” The look she gave him was priceless, and he had to laugh. “To feed my dog,” he said. “Relax. I forgot this morning and I’m probably working late tonight.”

  “Because of me,” she said.

  “That’s what I’m telling Duke.”

  Not that every other reason hadn’t crossed his mind at least four hundred times, he thought as he pulled into the driveway and opened his garage.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  It only seemed a few minutes while he let Duke attack him, filled his bowls, and grabbed two bottles of water. But when he stepped back through the door to the garage, Sidney was out of the truck, in the garage, and peeling back a tarp. Her eyes going soft.

  * * *

  Sidney didn’t know what drove her to step out and see if it was the same wheels peeking out from under that tarp. The same wheels that she’d watched all of senior year. The same wheels that almost carried her away graduation night.

  But once it was in front of her, she had to see. And peeling the top back, her heart thudded in her ears as the faded black metal and cracked worn seat fell under the light. Sidney couldn’t help but smile as she ran her fingers along the seams, back up to the handlebars—

  “Oh—” Her breath hitched, her eyes burning with unexpected tears. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “It’s been a lot of years since she saw the light of day,” came Sawyer’s voice from the doorway.

  Sidney sucked in a breath that sounded like a hippopotamus snort, and backed up two steps. Wiping at her tears, she tried to read the troubled crease above his nose as he walked up to the other side of the bike and pulled the tarp back over it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Be nosy?” he finished.

  A nervous laugh escaped her throat. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. “I’m—I just saw the wheels and—I don’t know.” New heat filled her eyes. “My ring.�
��

  Sawyer’s eyes locked on hers. “It’s how I kept you with me for a while. Why I used the name you gave me.”

  If she could have scaled that bike gracefully to get to him, Sidney would have stripped bare and mounted him like a monkey.

  He’d kept her class ring. Tied to the dashboard of his bike. He’d actually cared about her. It wasn’t just a story. It wasn’t just words. No one had ever done anything like that for her since. Or ever. And it was possibly the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Well, she was crying like a little girl. She laughed through her tears and nodded. “Just—very few things surprise me. And you keep doing that today.”

  He held out his arms and let them drop. “My special talent.”

  “Your dad,” she began, unsure whether he’d want to know. “He was affected by you leaving. Just so you know.”

  Sawyer frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he may have been an asshole,” she said, wiping two new tears away. “But after you left—after everyone pretty much knew you weren’t coming back—he kind of shrank.” Sidney watched his jaw work as he processed that. “He retired from the school early. And just sort of became—old. Before he was old.”

  Sawyer blinked fast and looked away, his brows knitting together like he was trying to push that image away.

  “He still alive?”

  “I don’t really know,” she said. “After Nana died, I left. There was no one there anymore to keep up with.”

  He nodded, blowing out a breath, physically clearing the trouble from his eyes. He peeled a corner of the tarp back instead, that being an easier subject. “You want it back?”

  She shook her head. “Keep it.” Keep me.

  “Will do,” he said, walking around the bike. Walking straight up to her without blinking. “Do you still have mine?”

  “Of course,” she said. “In a box. Inside another box.”

  His fingers came up to her face and wiped new tears away as she blinked them free.

  “And if I wanted it back?” he said so softly she barely heard it.

  “Not a chance in hell,” she whispered.

  A smile spread slowly across his lips. “That’s my girl.”

  * * *

  Sidney felt like a preteen, sneaking out of her room to the kitchen in her flannel pajamas. Socks on her feet, no bra, hair a mess. But she needed some of those cookies. It had been a day. A day followed by staring at the ceiling, totally awake for hours, thinking about too many things.

  Finding the tin, she carefully removed the lid and felt her mouth water. The sense of calm and well-being and peace washed over her, just inhaling the aroma.

  “I need to live on these cookies,” she whispered, taking the tin and carefully sitting at the big wooden table. Closing her eyes, she took a bite. Dear God, it didn’t get better than that.

  A soft twinkle out the window told her it might. Moonlight. On a lake.

  They had a lake?

  Maybe it was just a pond. But who cared? Too many thoughts pinging around, that wasn’t a good way to spend an evening. Not to mention the hijinks her libido was up to. The looks. The touches. The words. The words. And seeing her ring there. Tied to the handlebars like it was just yesterday that she’d pressed it into his hand. Oh God.

  All the feels.

  Sitting outside by the water with a brisk temperature to cool her jets? That was the ticket.

  As long as there were cookies. And a blanket. Sidney grabbed the tin—she’d make some tomorrow to replace these, Lord knew she had the time—tiptoed back to her room for a warm blanket, and headed back through the kitchen to the back door. Only taking pause at a large pair of lined rain boots.

  Judging from the size of them, either Amelia Rose had a man tucked away or they were Sawyer’s. Sidney peered down at her stocking feet and got a little rush in her belly at the thought of wearing his boots.

  That’s my girl.

  “Oh my God, how old are you?” she muttered under her breath, shoving her feet into them.

  She wrapped the blanket around herself, tucked the tin under her arm, and opened the door, instantly glad for the blanket. The brisk night air chilled her cheeks and left clouds of vapor when she breathed. It wasn’t likely to be a long sit. Grabbing a small flashlight that hung on a square-headed nail, she closed the door as quietly as she could and headed across the back patio.

  Sawyer’s boots clunked heavily on the wooden slats before going silent in the sod. Heading to the water’s edge, Sidney started to wish she had something warmer on her body. Something under her favorite soft happy duck pajamas. But it was worth it, she thought, finding a high and dry spot to sit where the moon highlighted all the ripples on the water.

  It was peaceful. Serene. So far removed from the busy chaos of Boston. Sidney could close her eyes and feel the sheer beauty of it. Only one thing could make it better. Maybe something with dirty blond hair and dark eyes, with a hard body and gentle hands and a lopsided smirk that could just about send her over the edge.

  Yeah, that.

  Okay, maybe two. She pulled the lid off the tin of cookies and inhaled. Oh, dear God, perfection. Selecting one and taking a bite, that feeling—the one from before, like warmth and happiness—poured over her.

  This should be the first thing.

  “Amelia Rose know you’re out here scamming her cookies?”

  Sidney yelped and dropped half the cookie when she jumped, but Sawyer scooped it right off the ground and blew on it, popping it into his mouth as he dropped down beside her.

  Sidney just stared, mid-chew.

  “Saw the light moving out here and thought I’d check it out,” he said in explanation. “I didn’t know it was just a cookie thief.” He nudged at her foot with his. “Nice boots.”

  “You saw?” Sidney said around the cookie finally. “From where?”

  Sawyer pointed to a warm glow coming from windows right around the curve of the water.

  “My house.”

  “That’s your house?” Sidney asked. “It didn’t seem that close, earlier.”

  “It isn’t by road,” he said. “It’s actually a whole separate subdivision. But our back yards are connected by a little bridge and walkway, so I keep an eye on things.”

  “Good thing I didn’t decide to go skinny-dipping,” she said.

  “Well, I might have had to break out the binoculars for that,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder.

  Sidney laughed. “It would have been a short show, I’m afraid. That water’s probably forty degrees.”

  “At least.”

  Sidney broke another cookie in half and handed it to him. Even being unexpected, this was nice. Shoulder to shoulder with him. It was easy. And real. Maybe her people skills were improving. Or maybe it was just him.

  “So, I was thinking I might let you borrow my truck tomorrow,” Sawyer said. “To go do whatever you need to do.”

  Sidney was hit with a ridiculous wave of disappointment. “Not up for the Crane tour again?”

  “I just have a lot of work to do tomorrow,” he said. “But I won’t need Betsy.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “What?”

  Sidney chuckled. “Who would Betsy be?”

  “That’s my truck,” he said.

  “You named it Betsy?” she asked. “For real?”

  Sawyer waved what was left of his cookie at her. “You have ducks on your pj’s, don’t judge.”

  “And she was inspired by who?” Sidney said with a smirk, her eyes dropping to his lips when he turned to her. “Your first love?”

  “If I would’ve done that,” he said softly, “her name would have been Squeak.”

  Bam.

  Sidney’s heart felt like it reached out and slammed against every possible surface at once.

  “Awfully pretty words again,” she whispered, suddenly feeling how bare she was and pulling the blanket tighter.

  He
shook his head slowly. “Not just words.” He looked out at the darkness on the water and rubbed at his face. “And something I’ve never felt again.”

  She couldn’t breathe. And although she was almost sweating she was so infused with warmth, she started to shiver.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?” she asked. “Back then?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “Scared kid, I guess.”

  Sidney held his gaze, his eyes dark pools of black in the moonlight. Finally she nodded. “Yeah, me too,” she whispered.

  He blinked and narrowed his eyes questioningly. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, hello?” she said. “I was running off with you. Breaking all the rules.” Sidney swallowed hard. “What did you think?”

  Chapter 11

  She was shivering in the cold and had just admitted that she once loved him. What did he think? That his damn head was spinning, that’s what. But he could feel her arm shaking next to his, and physical he could deal with. It was tangible. She was cold. He could fix cold.

  Pushing to his knees, he shrugged off his thick jacket.

  “Here,” he said, moving to face her, knees to knees. He tugged the blanket down and enveloped her shoulders in the jacket, warm from his body.

  “I don’t need—”

  “Hush,” he said, pulling it tight around her, closer to him, his knuckles resting against the softness of her breasts. The puffs of their breaths were mingling. “Just—” And then her lips parted slightly. And her eyes went impossibly shiny. And he was pulling her in. Or she was. All he knew was that his hands were on their own again, traveling up her neckline, feeling that silky skin, cupping her face, watching her eyes watch his mouth.

  “Sidney.”

  “I know.” Her voice was husky as their foreheads touched.

  “I need you,” he breathed, unsure where that thought came from. Since when did he need anyone? Since right that second, evidently, because closing that space between them was all that mattered in the whole damn world.

  “I need you more,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed, her face tilted as if her mouth was searching on its own.

  He felt her hands moving up his chest, and knew it would be his undoing. He was wrong. Her lips brushing against his was.

  Sawyer let his eyes close and his body take over. His mouth on hers, taking, giving, tasting, needing. Those lips he’d finally kissed one night twelve years ago. And compared to every woman since. That perfect mouth, better than any drug, as hungry for him as he was for her. Her head tilted perfectly so that each could dive into the other. One of his hands went up into her hair, pulling her deeper, as both of hers wrapped around his head, fingers in his hair, kissing him with her entire body.