Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  “That’s mean, she’s really pretty and nice.”

  “Yeah, sure. But to me, she’ll always be the girl who I taught to throw a punch, and high-fived when she had her first kiss . . . before I went and punched the guy for kissing my sister.” A startled laugh burst from him. “For fuck’s sake, yesterday morning she was bitching about this guy who wants to get serious with her even though she doesn’t, but she doesn’t want to end things with him because she likes the way he makes her scream—her words. Trust me, there will never be anything between us.”

  “That’s specific.”

  “That’s us,” he confirmed.

  “Wait, yesterday . . .” My head moved in slow, faint shakes. “Yesterday, when she came out of the back room looking like she’d been crying, and you came storming through the café and wouldn’t so much as look at me?” When Sawyer’s jaw clenched, I leaned back against the door. “Yeah, if those were your reactions to that conversation, I’m sure you can see why I might still think otherwise.”

  “Jesus,” he said on a breath. “It’s like you want me to want her.”

  It wasn’t until he said those words that I realized he was right.

  To be fair, everything I’d said was true. They spoke about each other a lot, and when they were near each other, they usually ended up touching in some way. But, if there were any chance that he wanted her, it would ease some of my worries about the palpable tension between Sawyer and me. It would help me get my head on straight. It would knock some much-needed sense into me.

  “Yesterday, what you saw, was different. We’d talked about a lot. Shit that I don’t like talking about at all, even with her, and also about some family stuff because I’d just left my brother’s house after being there all morning.”

  My brows pulled together as confusion pulsed through me. I hadn’t been at Brewed for more than ten or so minutes before Sawyer had shown up the day before, I would’ve seen him or his truck when I’d left for there . . . “You were at Blossom yesterday?”

  “No,” he said with a hint of irritation that was very obviously not meant for me. “I was at the ranch—at Hunter’s.”

  My confusion immediately shifted to surprise. “You have two brothers?”

  “I have three.” The corners of his lips lifted at my shock, and with that, he turned in his seat, put the truck in gear, and began driving. “Cayson’s a little older than me, but he left over nine years ago and has refused to come back. Then there’s Hunter. He took over our family’s ranch—but it hasn’t really felt much like a family ranch for some time now. He’s quiet, mostly because he’s pissed at the world. You already know Beau.”

  “The scary one,” I whispered, my eyes widening when I realized I’d said the words out loud.

  A sharp laugh burst from Sawyer. “He’s an asshole, but he’s harmless—we can thank Savannah for that.”

  I grabbed for my coffee again and tried to keep my voice casual when I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “So invasive,” he said on a tease, then winked at me. “Beau . . . his anger used to be out of control, but Savannah calms him in a way nothing else ever could.”

  I took long drinks as I thought back to the heated conversation I’d walked in on, realizing I’d had it wrong. Whoever it was they’d been talking about, it hadn’t been Savannah . . . and I wondered who the woman was Sawyer had been referring to.

  But even though he’d been joking with me, I knew he was right. I’d already been incredibly invasive in this short car ride, something I’d called him out for too many times already, so I pushed away the questions and settled deeper into the seat.

  * * *

  “Here we are,” Sawyer said as he put the car in park, breaking off from a story of a time when Cayson had pantsed him in the hallway of their high school.

  I sat back from where I’d curled up in the seat at some point, leaning on the center console, closer to him, and glanced around us at the countless cars.

  I’d been so engrossed in our conversation that I hadn’t realized we’d pulled off the highway, or started winding through a fully packed lot as he’d surely had to in order to find the space we were in. I didn’t even know how long of a drive it had been.

  “Holy shit.” I looked around at the people walking toward the enormous space, trying to figure out exactly what the massive lot held. “I thought you said small town?”

  “This is small town,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s First Monday.”

  “It’s Sunday,” I corrected him, “and there are thousands of people here.”

  “It’s the weekend before the first Monday of the month,” he explained. “And just trust me on this. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll never make you go anywhere again.”

  “Is that a promise?” I asked but was unable to put the proper amusement behind my words, because I was already having a good time with him.

  I’d already been enjoying his stories and our banter and the way he’d wanted to know about my life and my work. As I had the other day, I’d all too easily fallen into this place where I told him too much—offered too much information about myself.

  And that was the problem . . .

  Sawyer was dangerous for my mind, my body, and my heart.

  I’d never encountered this kind of danger.

  I didn’t know how to survive it when just minutes in his presence had me dropping my guard and relaxing into an easy familiarity when there should be nothing familiar about him.

  He searched my eyes for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Promise.”

  The space between us grew thick with weighted tension as we watched each other. When his stare fell to my mouth, that space came alive.

  Every nerve ending became hyper-aware of him and how close he was, and I got the strongest feeling kissing Sawyer Dixon would be just as complex and exhilarating as the man himself. Demanding and passionate, lazy and teasing.

  All it would take was me leaning just a little closer to erase the distance between us . . .

  I silently cursed and thanked the center console, because the feel of it pressing against my ribs was all that could ground me then.

  I sat back, blinking away the moment, and reached for the door as a jilted laugh left me.

  “Don’t,” he said quickly, reaching for my arm. When I paused, he shook his head and gave me a playful warning glare. “Don’t open that door.” And then he was climbing out of the truck and hurrying around toward my side.

  Right . . .

  I opened the door and had just climbed down when he reached me, eyes narrowed. I lifted my chin and held his stare. “I’m not the kind of girl to wait around for a man. I can take care of myself.”

  “Never said you couldn’t, Rae.” He gripped the door and continued toward me, backing me up until I was caged between the seat and everything Sawyer. “But sometimes even the strongest women need a man to take care of them. To spoil them. To remind them that they’re cherished.”

  “And if I don’t want that?” I asked breathlessly.

  His smile was slow and knowing, as if he could see past my exterior and knew exactly what he was doing to me.

  He stepped away only enough for me to squeeze past him, and I took comfort in the knowledge that I wasn’t the only one affected.

  That groan he wasn’t able to suppress when I brushed against his hard body? It was everything . . .

  I see you too, Sawyer.

  Once we’d made it through the lot and got closer to where all the people were headed, I stopped, sure I was reading the signs wrong. “You—no—this better be a joke,” I stammered, then looked at him. “You brought me to a flea market?”

  The laugh that burst from him was rich and deep and moved through me in a way that was typical of every heroine I wrote, and so not me.

  Because that sound? God, I could’ve gotten lost in that sound.

  Sawyer wrapped one of his strong arms around my shoulders and pulled me close, leading me toward the entrance. “
Trust me.”

  But it wouldn’t have mattered where he was leading me then, I was fairly certain I would’ve let him take me anywhere just to spend a little longer tucked into his side. A little longer before my mind cleared enough for rational thinking to take over again . . .

  Chapter 15

  Sawyer

  “Incredible,” Rae said again, awe filling the word as she gently ran her fingers over the restored wood. Her stare shifted to me, her expression bright, as it had been since breakfast when we’d broken off from Emberly and the rest of my friends to walk through the large market. Letting her take everything in and stopping at vendor after vendor to admire the varying items. “This is beautiful.”

  “They make good furniture,” I said in agreement.

  I would know, many of their pieces had ended up in my house over the years.

  Rae stepped away, her attention darting around the remaining pieces from the weekend. A small smile pulled at her lips as a crease formed between her brows.

  Her hand slipped into mine, a silent acknowledgment that she was ready to move on, but a bemused hum sounded in her throat.

  “What is it?” I asked, keeping us in place.

  She finally pulled her stare away, blinking rapidly as she did. “Nothing.”

  “Did you want something?”

  Amusement danced in her eyes as a soft huff escaped her lips. “No. No, I don’t own furniture.” Before I could question that, she nodded to the pieces she’d been admiring and said, “It’s . . . well, something about those seem homey and make me breathe easier just looking at them, but home isn’t exactly a concept I’m familiar with. Weird, right?”

  Damn.

  She stepped away, pulling me with her as if she hadn’t just speared me with an offhanded comment, but spared one last glance as we left. “I also feel like I’ve seen those before.”

  I tried forcing back the questions her obscure words had created, and said, “Probably because Savannah has their pieces in Blossom.”

  “Really?”

  I jerked my head in the direction we’d just left. “There’s a family of them who make all kinds of things for homes. Wood and metal furniture and décor—all have that farmhouse feel to it. Their booths are usually around each other. The others are probably behind where we just were.”

  Her excitement fell into an adorable mixture of playful and shamed. “I don’t know if I’ve actually paid attention to the furniture in Blossom.”

  “With how you came to a dead stop when you saw that booth, I don’t think that’s possible.”

  A throaty laugh tumbled from her lips. “You’d be surprised how distracted I can be. How lost in my own head I can stay.”

  “Writing?” I asked when she didn’t elaborate.

  Her only response was another one of those soft humming noises.

  Over the past few hours, Rae had been lighter . . . happier. Her laughs were more frequent and different than they’d been in the days before. There were still the soft, sexy laughs as if the woman herself was one big secret waiting to be revealed. But then there were the unrestrained laughs that lit her from within . . . that stopped my heart and the world around me.

  And that humming noise?

  The one she started making once she’d relaxed and began enjoying every moment of this the way I was? The one that showed exactly how content she was to just be here and share parts of herself with me?

  Fuck, if it wasn’t the sexiest damn noise in my world.

  After today, I was sure I’d be able to pick it out of a crowd.

  She slowed, nearly stopping us both at a blanket vendor—the third time she’d paused at one—before continuing forward, her relaxed expression never changing.

  “You said you didn’t own furniture,” I said another couple of booths down, finally voicing what I’d been thinking.

  “Is there a question there?” she teased. When I only looked at her expectantly, she sighed. “Furniture is hard to move.”

  It took me a second to remember our conversation from the other day, then I asked, “You really pick up and move whenever you want?”

  “Whenever I start feeling restless, yeah,” she said easily. “I don’t hold on to much and don’t keep more than is really necessary.” She bumped my shoulder and sent me a playful grin. “I mean, I enjoy clothes and shoes as much as the next girl, but if it can’t pack up easily and fit in my car, I don’t have it.”

  I paused when she did, waiting as she looked at whatever this vendor was selling, but I was too busy trying to sort through my demanding thoughts to see.

  When we began walking again, I hesitantly asked, “So, what you brought with you here . . .”

  “Is everything I own,” she finished for me when I couldn’t, her expression amused.

  I stammered for a moment before a question finally slipped free. “But what about a bed? What about a . . . a set of drawers, or a couch . . . or, shit, pans?”

  She stopped us in the middle of the walkway and turned to face me, her smile wholly unaffected by the warring thoughts and emotions coursing through me. “I don’t live like a squatter, Sawyer. I rent furnished places. As for pans . . .” Her chest moved with a silent laugh. “Ah, yeah, I’m not sure I know how to turn on a stove without burning a place down.”

  I wondered what had happened in her life to make her so resistant to settling down in any one place. I wondered how she couldn’t see how sad her life was.

  It was one thing to want to travel, it was another to not have any roots. To not feel comfortable enough to even own a damn bed.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she chastised. “I know how to clean and do laundry, I’m not completely hopeless as a woman.”

  I think I laughed at the joke as we continued down the path, but I was struggling to wrap my head around it all. “What’s the longest you’ve stayed somewhere?”

  “Once I was old enough to make my own decisions?” she asked, barely sparing me a glance as another vendor caught her eye. When I just squeezed her hand in response, she looked at me again, but her stare was unfocused as she worried her bottom lip. “It was this last place. I was there almost two years.”

  “Where were you?”

  “In a larger city,” she said vaguely, everything about her expression forced as she twisted away from me. Without giving me a chance to ask anything else, she continued. “I usually only stay about a year.”

  A year.

  If I’d thought she would give Amber a year, I would already be thinking of ways to get her to stay longer. But she was staying weeks, and even then, I already knew she didn’t want to be here.

  What the hell was I doing letting myself get lost in her when she was leaving?

  What was I doing letting myself get lost in someone, period?

  Despite how hard I tried to keep the questions from escaping, they broke free. “Do you think one day that will change? Do you ever see yourself settling down somewhere?”

  “No.” She tilted her head back to look at me, her expression part-curious and part-hesitant. “Home . . . family . . . foreign concept, remember?” Her gaze caught on something behind me, and she began pulling me in that direction. “I’ve heard enough whispers about you from the people in your town to know this player status isn’t new. Do you think one day that will change?” she asked, throwing my question back at me. “Do you see yourself settling down?”

  “No,” I answered immediately, unable to stop the torrent of memories and plans for a future that had died long ago. By the time I was able to continue, she’d started down the main path again with a victorious look on her face. “But what you’re asking . . . it’s different, and you know it. I have a home. I have somewhere to go no matter what the day brings—and you run from that.”

  She drew in a slow, deep breath, her eyes glittering with amusement. “So intense.” Her lips parted to say something else, but her words were forgotten as something next to me caught her eye, slowing her steps.

  I follo
wed her stare to another blanket vendor, then looked back in time to see Rae flash a smile at the vendors. But just before that smile, I’d caught a hint of something else, as if she wasn’t finding what she was looking for.

  Before I could question the look, she began walking again and narrowly avoided colliding with Emberly.

  “Shit, sorry,” Rae said quickly, releasing her grip on my hand to steady Emberly, who was struggling to maintain her hold on the items in her arms.

  “No, no, it’s okay.” Emberly looked from Rae to me, the lift in her brows telling me she’d very much seen that I’d been holding Rae’s hand. “I was coming to meet up with everyone and saw y’all. You ready to eat?”

  “Again?” Rae asked with a hesitant laugh as she warily shifted her attention to me.

  “Told you I planned on feeding you,” I said unapologetically.

  Rae just stared at me, mouth open in horrified silence.

  We’d met up with Emberly and the rest of my friends near some of our favorite food vendors as soon as we’d arrived, and had eaten our way through them before we’d all gone our separate ways, attempting to tackle the crowded beast of a market.

  It was what we did whenever we came.

  Meet up and eat.

  Walk around for hours, get what we need—if anything.

  Meet up again and eat.

  Swear off First Monday forever . . . come back and do it again whenever one of us needed something.

  “You didn’t really think that was it, did you?” I tapped her chin and bit back a laugh when she closed her mouth, only to narrow her eyes in a glare. “It’s barbecue time, Rae.”

  “I can’t eat again,” she said adamantly.

  Emberly laughed. “It’s cute because you’re new.” She sighed, as if what she was about to say weighed heavily on her. “You’ll eat. Trust me, once it’s in front of you . . .” Her eyes rolled back and she moaned. “Best of my life.”