To See You Smile

by Brea Viragh

  He didn’t mean to sound worried, though his words took on the keening ring of desperation to the point where even he noticed. At once Lorelei was in a better position than before. No longer needing to beg. Sawyer recognized the moment the change came over her face, a veil of slyness taking her features from ordinary to extraordinary. It was a mask he’d seen on his brother’s face a dozen times. It looked much better on Lorelei.

  “I like when the power shifts,” she said softly, inclining her head until a curl fell over her eyes. “Don’t you?”

  “You have to agree to get the wind chime. If my watch is correct, you’ve wasted a precious thirty minutes bullshitting with me.”

  “Ugh. I promised my brother and sister I would help with the party and I’m still here with you,” she responded with only a hint of disgust. An exhale shifted the curl away from her face. “Why can’t you be like every other artisan in the county? Willing to make a trade for a check with guaranteed funds? In a week, give or take.”

  “Because there’s no one like me.”

  “There’s no other way you’re willing to make this work? One where I can take the chime and go without agreeing to your devil’s deal?”

  “Not if you want to leave right now with my artwork.”

  He recognized the moment his comment hit home, too. “What’s involved with the pretense?” Lorelei wanted to know. “Because I’m not going to do the naughty with you. It’s gotten me into trouble in the past and I’m not looking to complicate my life. I’ve got a daughter to think about. Whatever decision I make involves her as well.”

  “Absolutely no sex. Scout’s honor.” Sawyer held up two fingers to emphasize his point.

  Although it wasn’t as if sex with Lorelei would be a hardship. She was easy on the eyes, he acknowledged, with a straight nose and wide-set brown eyes that made her look innocent. Pretty. Sexy, even, if she’d lower the waistband on her jeans to below her belly button from where it rested at her natural waistline. Those jeans were appropriate for moms and no one else. Did all moms shop at the same store?

  “You just need to make me look good in front of my brother and his wife. Outings, dinner parties, whatever else is needed to network these days…then you go home.”

  “And what about my daughter?”

  He blinked. “Come again?”

  She leaned forward with one brow raised and a get-it-together look on her face. “What am I going to do with Allison? You want to try to explain away where this kid came from?”

  “How come I didn’t remember that you have a kid?”

  “Because you aren’t the most observant man in the world, I’d wager. Otherwise you would know. You’re wearing two different colored socks, by the way.”

  Sawyer appeared unconcerned. He’d deal with the socks later. “Bring your daughter along. How old is she? Thirteen?”

  “She’s almost six.”

  “Oh wow. Where has the time gone?” he put in sarcastically.

  “Somewhere beyond your reckoning, I suppose.”

  He blew off her comment easily enough. He’d work the brat into his schedule if need be. Well, she probably wasn’t a brat. He vaguely remembered a little girl from that long-ago market day. A tow-headed youngster with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and Lorelei’s crazy hair. She’d been well-behaved. As well-behaved as a small child could be, he mused. Sawyer made it a habit to avoid them as much as possible. Along with the rest of the general population.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” he replied. “She’ll fit in well with the mess I call my family.”

  “Maybe I don’t want my kid to be part of the mess you call your family.”

  “Woman, what do you want from me? You keep throwing out questions and I’m answering them the best way I can! Do you want me to get up and tap dance for you?” Sawyer mimed moving his feet in a complicated rhythm before shaking his head. “Tell me what you want to do with your daughter and we’ll do it. In or out. I just need an answer from you. Now.”

  “Let me see if I’m understanding this,” Lorelei stated, hiking her purse higher on her shoulder and biting the inside of her lip. “Wife for wind chime.”

  “Wife for wind chime. Ha, I like it.”

  “No funny business?”

  “I don’t have the energy for funny business.” He shot her an exasperated scowl. “I have a waitlist stretching into next year and a dozen or so house chores I’m neglecting in the effort to work. I only have one employee right now and you’re looking at him. Seeing you just happened to spark an idea, which is why I brought it up.”

  “Then you better stop with the woman bit. If we’re going to make this work, I will not answer to anything falling under the umbrella of ball and chain. And woman is first in line.”

  “So, my beauteous sunrise over the eastern river would be okay in your book?” Sawyer asked deadpan.

  “You’re incorrigible. Let me get this straight…I can walk out of here now with a wind chime?” Lorelei wanted clarification, fiddling with her checkbook like she didn’t know what to do with the thing. “No check needed?”

  Sawyer held his latest project aloft. His baby. His masterpiece. It was a shame to see it go so soon, though he knew it would be placed in a good home. “I just finished with this one. It’s one of my best pieces, if I do say so myself, and it can be yours for the simple price of seven days. Plus the two weeks leading up to the visit. Take it or leave it.”

  A wealth of emotions flashed across her face. “I’m not sure who is getting the better end of the stick, here. My mother, me, or you. Although I’ll clarify this for you: Any man would be happy to have me as a wife.”

  He shook his head with a slight chuckle. “Sweetheart, I have no doubt.”

  It took some time for her to decide. Then she stuck out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “This is ridiculous.” Lorelei tugged the collar of her dress. “I look awful. I shouldn’t let you talk me into these things. Why did I agree to the schmoozing? I’m no good at schmoozing. I’m not dressed for schmoozing.”

  Sawyer barely spared her a glance. “I think you look nice.”

  “For an eighty-year-old woman, sure. You didn’t give me any time to go shopping. I had to pull out a kind of…I don’t know. Whatever. From the bowels of my closet.” She smacked her forehead. “I should have gone with a nice pantsuit.”

  “Who do you need to impress? I’m the one on the chopping block. I just need you to sit there and nod at the appropriate moments. At least try to act like you’re having a good time and like being with me.”

  She spared him a glance, her gaze accusing. “Yeah, that’s right. Sorry. I keep forgetting I’m nothing but a prop.”

  The collar belonged on a hand-sewn dress more suited to life on the Oregon Trail than modern day America. Still, it was the best she had to offer. So she’d thought at the time. She wasn’t as sure, now that they stood in the front foyer of the fanciest restaurant in Heartwood.

  A classier outfit was one of those purchases that didn’t fit within her tight budget. Lorelei had learned early on to make the best of a bad situation, which meant taking up sewing when it was easier to whip out a credit card. If her previous marriage taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t depend on someone else to furnish the life she desired. She had to go out there and make it for herself.

  Which meant she’d had to pinch every penny throughout the relationship and long after it fell apart. Nothing so messy—and expensive—as a divorce. At least he’d managed to avoid the whole mess of having to change her name back. Good thinking on her part.

  As it was, the dress she wore was the most appropriate outfit she’d thought she had for the situation. It wasn’t like Lorelei had a million dates lining up to take her out to extravagant restaurants.

  The two of them stood in line at The Point, which was a cross between an Italian villa and a winery, with a you-can’t-afford-this-unless-you-win-the-lottery vibe. Good
thing Sawyer was footing the bill; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to buy her way through the front doors. It wasn’t as if teachers were paid well.

  She fiddled with the collar for the umpteenth time and told herself to blend. Blend!

  Sawyer took her hand and it sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. “You’ll be fine. Trust me. And stop fidgeting.”

  She nodded, squeezing back. More like grabbing on for dear life. Of the two of them, he was definitely better dressed. She wiped her free hand on the side of her dress and kept her eyes locked on Sawyer. He stood still, eyebrows set in a rigid line and his lips pressed thin. Under better circumstances, he would have been attractive. More than attractive. Handsome. The scruff covering the lower half of his face hid a strong chin. Green flecks stood out in the smoldering hazel eyes that raked the maître d’. He was good-looking enough—for a near-hermit misanthrope.

  “I should remind you,” she said slowly, inching forward in line. Her free hand rose to tug at the neck of her dress. Again. “I’m only here to be your support. Don’t expect the world.”

  “And what a willing sport you’re being so far.” His response was dry. Humorless.

  Lorelei laughed nervously in response. More like she’d had to be dragged kicking and screaming. Her mother had told her the dress was sharp. What a word. A nice black pantsuit with a V-neck showing off her ample cleavage would have been sharp. She had something in her dresser that came close, but instead of going with her gut, she went with sharp. The dress was a reject from the thrift shop. It was also the only one in her closet still attached to the hanger after she’d tried on dozens of outfits and found something wrong with each of them. Her mother gave her the go-ahead, and with the clock ticking down and her hair still left to do, she’d been out of time for anything else.

  She hadn’t let her daughter see the nerves that gutted her and left her feeling exposed. In front of Allison, Lorelei had been the confident one. The woman who took control. In the restaurant, with Sawyer, she wondered how she managed to remember to breathe.

  The maître d’ behind the podium tapped his foot and listened to the griping of an elderly couple holding up the line. Lorelei caught the words drafty and too far from the restroom before she turned her attention back to Sawyer.

  “Well, you did me a favor, and now it’s only fair I do the same for you,” she told him. “I want to help and see your business expand.”

  No one equaled his level of craftsmanship with wind chimes. There was something about the sounds, the way the wind brought forth notes that weren’t there. Weren’t registered on the musical spectrum. They were ethereal. Haunting. Magical.

  He had the ability to fashion emotion into physical form. That’s why his wind chimes were in high demand. To help him expand his reach…Lorelei would do what she could. To help others hear his beautiful music. To help a friend. Her mother had loved the gift at her birthday party, her smile expanding from ear to ear when she pulled aside the tissue paper. It was well worth the trade.

  Lorelei’s daughter Allison was with her grandma for the night. Thank goodness, as Lorelei was in the midst of making payments to Sawyer for that gift. Using her body, voice, and position in lieu of outright cash. It was a ridiculous arrangement, and more and more she felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Without the sex.

  What was Lorelei’s time compared to her mother’s happiness? What Sawyer asked was small in comparison.

  His callused fingers caressed the top of her hand for a brief moment. Despite her earlier confidence, a fissure of anxiety worked its way between her temples.

  “I should have chosen another restaurant. The Point was the wrong way to go. For me, at least,” he murmured.

  “Why did you choose someplace so…so…”

  “Because my brother made a fortune in stocks and this is his idea of low key. I had no choice.”

  Lorelei tugged at her dress for the zillionth time. “I am definitely underdressed.”

  She spared a glance at Sawyer and he caught her staring. At this point, she would almost have preferred sex with him to standing here in a fancy restaurant, her dress collar itching unmercifully, and putting on a pony show.

  The maître d’, menus in hand, nodded in their direction. “Come on,” Sawyer said and gave her hand a tug. “Our table is ready.”

  The deep timbre of his voice washed over her, instilling a modicum of calm. If Sawyer was anxious, he didn’t let on. Not one ounce of nerves showed on his face. It was a different face from the one she was used to seeing. No hint of boyish humor or rough-tongued but adorable jerkoff. This was a man who meant business.

  They walked in together, both out of place among the marble and mahogany, herringbone and haricots vert. She in vintage paisley and he in a worn double-breasted blazer. They looked like tourists, like Mr. and Mrs. Smith from Smalltown, USA, dropped off in the midst of a bustling big-city square. The only thing missing was the camera.

  Lorelei gripped Sawyer’s hand again, following the host to a table in the corner. Somehow she managed to bump against a server on his way to another table and pulled her arms in tighter against her midsection.

  Sawyer must have taken note of her posture, the rigid shoulders and fallen face. “Buck up,” he muttered softly. “Try to enjoy yourself and not look like the only reason you’re out of the house is because I threatened you.”

  “I’m not good at this,” she hissed, huffing out a sigh and shrugging her shoulders to rid them of their rigidity. “The last time I was out on a date was before my daughter was born. And I wouldn’t exactly call a couple of boxes of Chinese takeout a good date. I was a little wild. I didn’t come to places like this.”

  “Yeah, like I’m some kind of man about town.” Sawyer, for whatever dust had accumulated on his manners, managed to remember to hold the chair out for her. Lorelei graciously accepted the offering.

  At once the maître d’, a smart man in a smart suit with a smart bowtie to pull it all together, placed the menus down in front of them. “Mr. Parksdale hasn’t arrived yet, sir,” he stated. “I’ll let you know the moment he does.”

  Sawyer gritted his teeth. “I’m Mr. Parksdale. I made the reservation.”

  “Beg pardon, sir. Let me rephrase. I’ll alert you the moment your guests have arrived.”

  “Sawyer, calm down. I can see you’re on edge. Everyone can see you’re on edge,” Lorelei said the moment their chastised host left to retrieve a bottle of wine. “You don’t need to make the wait staff feel uncomfortable.”

  “I have a temper issue.” He made no move to hide it tonight. “Might as well be up front before we go any further. Now where is the goddamn bread?”

  She rested a palm on the table. “We just sat down. Give them a minute. And quit your bouncing or I’m going to have to cement you to the floor. If your brother is the discerning guy you say he is, he’ll know that you’re nervous and might assume you have something to hide.”

  How was she the calm one now? At once their roles had reversed.

  Maybe it was because she was no longer the wild chick who was satisfied with Chinese takeout in the back of a pickup truck. If she could handle a kid, one she hadn’t planned for and certainly hadn’t been expecting in her mid-twenties, then she could handle the restaurant. She could handle Sawyer and his lies. The mediocre dress and the way the other guests kept shifting their stares was nothing compared to where she’d been. How far she’d come along the way.

  And was it bad that the more nervous Sawyer appeared, the calmer she became?

  His knee bounced beneath the table as he spared a look around the dining room. “I’ll feel better with some bread.”

  “Wouldn’t we all?” Lorelei patted her midsection. “I subsist on a diet of cheese and carbs.”

  “Listen,” he said, moving closer and lowering his voice. “When my brother gets here, try not to be surprised.”

  She leaned forward as well. “Why would I be surprised?”

  “He’s one of t
hose hoity-toity types more at home in the big city than here in the boondocks. His suit probably cost more than my house. His entire body screams money the moment you meet him, and he’s not shy. He’ll talk about his fortune until you want to stab yourself in the ears to make his voice go away.”

  Lorelei wondered how such a giant chasm had formed between the brothers.

  She hadn’t known Sawyer long, and had never met his brother, since she’d only moved to Heartwood with her family the year before she met Allison’s father. Eighteen, on the verge of college, and sowing some wild oats. Thank God she’d waited a few more years before going all the way with Tommy Shinn. She’d needed the extra time to develop some maturity.

  But it gave her pause. The way Sawyer spoke of his brother conjured images of years of competition and only one victor. What happened between the two of them to cause the rift? One brother struggling to expand his business, and the other with enough money to last ten lifetimes.

  She shook her head. She’d stopped worrying about the past a long time ago, and knew that not everyone had a brother and sister like hers. Ones who wanted to pal around and would do anything for each other.

  “This should bother me because…?” she prompted, trying to sound confident.

  “He’ll try to act superior. I’m giving you fair warning not to take offense at his shit.” Sawyer crossed his arms, and the first traces of a pout tugged the corners of his mouth downward.

  “I’m a mom. I deal in…shit…twenty-four hours a day. Not to mention rooms filled with sixth-graders who really don’t want to sit through algebra. I think I can handle your brother.”

  “I just wanted to let you know. Thought you’d appreciate another heads-up. He’s not like us and he won’t easily let you forget it.”