by JoAnn Durgin
When she gave him the address, he retrieved a small electronic device from the pocket of his jacket. He nodded and jotted something down, presumably her address for business purposes. “That’s the Hanscom Apartment building?”
“Last time I checked.” Ava ran her hand over the bench seat and then fumbled beneath her. “Is there a seatbelt here somewhere?”
“I’m not doing my job very well.” He helped her locate the straps and then nodded with satisfaction when she snapped the buckle in place.
“You’re not a speed demon, are you?” She was half-serious, but when he laughed, it was nice—deep and spontaneous.
“I’m Italian, but no worries. My last name’s not Andretti. I’ll try my best to keep the speed down.” His gaze met Ava’s long enough to lock and linger. Long enough to be disconcerting and make her squirm in a good way.
“I need to check in with Eric and then we’re off.” Seconds later, Sawyer slid onto the bicycle seat. After pulling on biking gloves and flexing his fingers, he began to guide the pedicab onto the side street adjacent to the hotel garage. Ava’s attention was again drawn to the strong muscles in his legs, broad shoulders and upper arms. No doubt his chosen profession helped him stay in great shape. She quickly turned her head and averted her gaze. Goodness. What was she thinking, ogling the man? Must be the tiredness again, playing with her mind.
Stopping for a red light at the first intersection, Sawyer planted both feet on the ground and turned on the seat to face her more directly. Dark curls escaped from beneath his helmet and tumbled onto his forehead. “Let me guess. Your parents were fans of actress Ava Gardner? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else with that name.”
She’d been asked that question countless times and could answer it in her sleep. “I was named in honor of my mother’s youngest sister who passed away from leukemia. But yes, my Grandma Margaret loved Ava Gardner, so it’s possible. I know she loved Frank Sinatra, Ava’s husband once upon a time.”
“Well, your name’s very pretty. Fitting.”
“Thank you.” Ava’s cheeks grew warm. “Your name’s quite distinctive.”
“My dad named me, and he loves the character of Tom Sawyer. My mom named my older sister—my only sibling—and she loved Louisa May Alcott’s books. Care to guess my sister’s name?”
“I have no idea. Louisa?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? My folks were more into surnames. Her name is Alcott, but she goes by Allie for everything except legal documents.” After glancing in all directions, most likely to assess the traffic, Sawyer returned his full attention to her.
She nodded. “I like the names. Your parents sound very creative, and…respectful of literature.”
The aroma of grilled steak from a nearby restaurant lingered in the air, even this late in the evening. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything since the early afternoon. She’d abandoned her sandwich after her assistant, Heather, called for her help with a minor tutu mishap. She couldn’t wait to get home and grab a snack before falling into bed. As if on cue, her stomach growled again. Loudly. Ava clamped her hand over her belly—as if that would help—and hoped Sawyer hadn’t heard.
“Sawyer, you don’t have anything to eat, do you? An apple or something? Crackers? Anything’s fine, and I’m not picky.”
“Afraid not, Ballerina. This pedicab is pretty full-service but I haven’t added catering. Thanks for the suggestion, though. It’s definitely something to consider. If you want, I can make a short detour at the next corner. There’s a 24-hour convenience mart a block over.”
Pedaling around town, he must have a good sense of the timing of the stoplights and know most of the downtown streets well. She knew which store he meant but dropping in after midnight on a Saturday night, especially dressed in a tutu, would only be inviting trouble.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“If you’re worried about the safety factor, I could offer to go inside and get you a snack. Then again, that’d mean leaving you alone outside. Either way, it wouldn’t be advisable. So, I hope you understand I’m kind of stuck in wanting to be your knight in biking gear or whatever.”
Ava giggled. “You don’t need to be my protector, but your gallantry is duly noted. Again.”
The light turned green and he began pedaling once more. “Tell me something,” he said a minute later. “How does it feel to be named after someone who died?”
Maybe she was too tired, but that odd—not to mention personal—question befuddled her. “I’ve never thought of it that way. I suppose you could ask your sister the same question.”
“Good point, although you had a personal family connection behind your name, which makes it even more special.” Something in Sawyer’s words, or in the way he said them, revealed his appreciation for family ties.
“The Ava I’m named after was only twelve when she passed away. It was more of a respectful gesture to honor her memory.”
“Gotcha.”
“So, how does someone train to be a pedicab driver?”
Ava glimpsed his smile when he turned at the corner. “In my case, I went the roundabout way and got an MBA, although that’s not a hard and fast requirement.”
That was surprising. “Is this a full-time job for you?”
“Yep. Pays the bills.”
“That’s important.” Ava slumped back against the seat.
“And I love it.”
She couldn’t help teasing him. “Well, it is your passion, after all.”
He shot her a quick grin over one shoulder. “I also do some independent contract work for my former firm. Technology changes by the minute and I still like to keep up.”
Ava glanced up at the neoclassical obelisk-shaped State Soldiers and Sailors Monument as they approached the intersection of Meridian and Market Streets. Illuminated at night, it was beautiful. She never tired of the impressive night views in downtown Indianapolis. The slightly uneven bricks of Monument Circle made the pedicab ride a little rough, and Sawyer was quiet as he navigated the circle. Although there wasn’t much traffic, he stayed to the right side of the lane in case other vehicles wanted to pass. She estimated their speed to be about ten miles per hour although it was hard to say with all the stops.
“So, does your pedicab have a name?”
“Goose. Let’s just say it’s a nickname for a family member.”
“Someone who died?”
“No. Someone who wouldn’t like me telling the story to a woman I’d just met. No matter how fascinating I find her.”
“Oh. I didn’t mean to pry.” Ava’s eyes felt heavy and she yawned again, not bothering to cover her mouth. “Sorry. I can’t seem to help myself.”
“You’re clearly exhausted, so that’s one reason I wanted to keep you talking. I can’t have a beautiful ballerina falling out of Goose on my watch. An incident like that wouldn’t be good for business.”
“I thought that’s one reason Goose comes equipped with a seatbelt. Thanks for the compliments, but just so you know, I don’t date.”
“Then we’ll get along fine, Ballerina. I don’t date either.”
“Now that we got that out of the way,” she said, relief flooding through her, “what’s the difference between a rickshaw and a pedicure—I mean a pedicab?”
When Sawyer turned his head to check the traffic, Ava caught his grin. He seemed the type to find the humor in life no matter his circumstances. A very nice quality.
“Rickshaws generally have a two-wheeled compartment pulled by a man on foot, although they can be pulled by a bicycle. And they’re usually found somewhere in Asia. That’s the main difference.”
“I see. And you have a tricycle.” Ava giggled when Sawyer smirked. What had gotten into her? She hadn’t been this silly in a long time.
Breathing in deeply, Ava drew the crisp, night air into her lungs. He might be slightly annoying, but Sawyer was the first man who’d caught her full and undivided attention in two years.
Two very long years.
Chapter 2
~~♥~~
Ava startled. Sawyer was quiet but she sensed he waited for a response from her. “Sorry. Did you ask me a question?” Should she apologize for her inattentiveness? She hadn’t expected to be entertained or to answer questions about her life. Not that she minded. If she was honest, his interest was flattering.
“I was saying that if I didn’t think you’d be offended, I’d tell you that you’re every bit as beautiful as Ava Gardner. Although, if I’m not mistaken, I also see a hint of mixed heritage in your features. Asian? Oriental?”
“Polynesian, actually.”
“You’re not, are you?”
“Not what? Mixed heritage?”
“Offended.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No.”
“Good.” He tossed another infectious grin over one shoulder.
“My dad was Polynesian and my mom’s from Scotland. I’m an only child.” That last bit of information wasn’t necessary, but what could it hurt to tell him?
Sawyer concentrated on making a right turn, but he’d nodded to indicate he’d heard.
The city with its rain-slicked streets was quiet and peaceful at midnight. She watched as he pedaled. How strong must Sawyer be to pull the pedicab? Two average-sized people could sit comfortably side-by-side. While she had no idea how much the pedicab weighed, she estimated with passengers, it could be well over three hundred pounds. Maybe closer to four hundred pounds. Wow.
Sure enough, at the next red light, he spoke again. “Polynesian and Scottish? That’s an intriguing combination. Did you grow up around here?”
“Yes. My parents met in Hawaii and moved to Indy for Poppy’s job when I was an infant.”
“You call him Poppy? That’s cute. Which business is that?”
“He was a structural engineer and worked for the city.”
“Are your parents still around?” In part because of his ready smile and easy manner, Sawyer’s questions came across as caring rather than intrusive.
“My dad died of a heart attack when I was fifteen, but my mom lives with her sister outside of Chicago.” Until Poppy’s death, he’d always been her primary parent. While she was accustomed to the lack of a maternal influence, there were times when she’d needed her mama. Especially when she’d lost Cole. But no way would she discuss Momma with Sawyer. She couldn’t understand their odd relationship as it was, so trying to explain it to a virtual stranger would be pointless.
“I’m sorry about your dad, Ava.” Sawyer turned to face her at the next light. The man seemed to possess a peculiar talent for catching every red light between the Hyatt and her apartment building. If she wasn’t mistaken, a shadow passed over his features. “My mom died of cancer seven years ago. Dad still lives in the family homestead in Greenwood. Allie and her family join Dad and me for church and Sunday dinner as often as possible. It’s become a family tradition and starts the week off right.”
“I’m sorry about your mom, too, Sawyer. I imagine it’s nice to have your family nearby.”
“It is. I feel the loss most during the holidays. Mom’s out of pain and I’m sure she’s having a great time in heaven, but selfishly, I wish she were here, you know?”
“I know.” Ava shifted on the bench seat. “Not to change the subject, but do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Course not. You should know that by now. Ask away.” Lifting one hand from the handlebars, Sawyer flexed his fingers.
“Do people spill their secrets to you on a regular basis? Are you like a pedaling bartender?”
Sawyer chuckled. “Sometimes. Depends on my clients, but you won’t find a mini-bar beneath the passenger compartment. Not that it hasn’t been suggested.”
“Wouldn’t think of it. Good point. I imagine the legalities of getting a liquor license for a pedicab would be a challenge. Not that you seem the type of man to shy away from a challenge.”
“It’s not the legalities involved so much as the fact that I don’t want to encourage drinking even if I’m the one pedaling someone home.”
“You call your passengers clients?”
He lifted those distractingly broad, strong shoulders. “Client, customer, patron, or passenger. Take your pick. They pay me to provide a service. If you have a better term, lay it on me.”
“No, the word client sounds respectful,” she said. “I meant the bartender comment as a compliment. You’re nice, very easy to talk with, and I imagine your clients find you very approachable and…helpful.”
“Why, thank you, Ballerina. I can usually sense whether or not someone wants to talk.” The light turned green and he focused on pedaling through the intersection. “For instance, if I thought you didn’t want to talk tonight, I wouldn’t have kept jabbering just to pass the time. Believe it or not, I don’t talk to hear my own voice.” He slowed the pedicab as he waited for a car to pass. “From my experience, everyone’s got a story to tell.”
Interesting comment and Ava didn’t doubt the truth of his words. Surely there was more to this man’s story, but she wasn’t going to probe. From what she knew of Sawyer, he’d tell her anything she wanted to know. If she asked, but that was something she was determined not to do.
A noisy car full of teenagers pulled alongside the pedicab on the left, their radio blaring so loud that Ava could feel the heavy beat of the bass through the floorboard. The dark tinted window on the right back passenger side lowered and a teenage kid stuck his head out the window. “Hey, pretty lady, you got any idea where we can get some cigarettes?”
Before she could respond, Sawyer waved to capture the teenager’s attention. “Do you have a GPS?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Program in this address: 1700 Nowhere Fast Street.”
The kid appeared puzzled but hollered the address to the driver. Ava dipped her head to cover her grin.
“Okay. Thanks, man.” The kid closed the window and the car sped off.
Ava gave into her laughter. “Score one for Pedicab Man.”
“Yeah, well, I have all the respect in the world for teachers,” Sawyer said, regret heavy in his voice. “I can’t help but worry about the future of our country if that kid is any indication.”
Her smile sobered. “Maybe it’s not so much the educational system as a lack of parental supervision. Notice he did say thank you. That’s something, anyway. Manners are very important.”
“In danger of extinction, I believe you said. Or was that gallantry?”
She sank back into the seat. “Both, actually.” Sawyer definitely paid attention.
Stopping the pedicab at a red light three blocks from her apartment building, Sawyer inclined his head to the right. “What do you think of the one in the middle?”
Ava snapped out of her half-musing state. “I beg your pardon?”
Sawyer’s slow grin emerged. He pointed to the large picture window of a corner office building. “Which dress is your favorite? I’m partial to the one in the middle.”
Turning to look where he directed, Ava felt a pinch of familiar sadness. Sawyer couldn’t know how she regularly walked or drove out of her way to avoid that window. When she dated Cole, she’d gaze with longing at those dream dresses. Not that she would ever be able to afford a wedding gown from the popular but pricey wedding boutique. They catered to society brides and those for whom money wasn’t a consideration.
More than that, the window reminded Ava of her unfulfilled dreams that died with Cole.
“The one with the huge red bow is nice but it’s too gimmicky,” he said. “The one on the opposite end belongs at a junior prom, not a wedding. But the dress in the middle? Now that’s timeless elegance. At least I think that’s what they call it.”
Intrigued by Sawyer’s observations and thankful for the distraction, Ava dared to glance at the elegantly costumed mannequins. A week before Valentine’s Day, the window was lavishly decorated with red and pink hearts, roses, and sp
otlighted the bridal gown he’d mentioned with a bright red oversized bow.
“That bow is probably only an added effect for the Valentine display. The dress is pretty, but it’s too overdone for my taste.” Twisting on the seat, she peeked out from beneath the canopy above the passenger compartment to get another quick glimpse of the dresses as he pedaled beneath the stoplight. Sawyer was right. The gown in the middle was gorgeous—white silk shantung from the looks of it, off-the-shoulder with a hint of sparkle on the bodice and skirt. Not a bad assessment coming from an athletic, masculine man.
“I agree with you,” she said. “The gown in the middle is simple with clean lines, and it’s a classic design. Any woman would feel like a princess.” When he was quiet for the moment, she spoke again. “The best thing about it? The woman wearing it would be allowed to shine, and she wouldn’t be overshadowed by her dress.”
“You’d look great in that gown, Ava. It’s modest and feminine and. . .”
Why did he say things like that? Her curiosity got the best of her. “And what?” This exchange was almost uncomfortably intimate but she still hoped he’d finish that thought.
“Guys don’t like all the fancy frou-frou stuff. Personally, I don’t like it when nothing’s left to the imagination. But a glimpse of a woman’s shoulder, like on that middle dress? I have to say, that can be very alluring.”
Sawyer tossed another glance at her over one shoulder. She really liked it when he did that. “I guess I shouldn’t say things like that, huh? You have to forgive me. I have a tendency to say whatever pops into my head. For the record and so you’ll know, I’m sane, God-honoring and completely heterosexual.” He grunted. “In case you wondered with all the talk about the bridal gowns.”
She cleared her throat, trying her best not to laugh, but a few giggles escaped. “If you feel the need to assure me of your sanity, then I have serious doubts. I’m actually more surprised you used the word alluring.”
