Promise Me: A Second Chance Romance

by Willow Winters

“Yeah,” Remy said, pointing to a couple of spots. “We’d have to pull up some of these anyway to let the cows cross back and forth. Still, it’s been way too long since these fences were fixed up.”

  “Well, hopefully our parents actually sign the paperwork to make this happen,” Sawyer said, shading his eyes and looking downriver. “Is that a shed?”

  They took their time, riding slow and making notes, stopping at each little shed. When they reached the old kennels, out of use since Sawyer’s mother’s death, it took them almost a full hour to sort through all the repairs.

  “Watch out,” Sawyer said as they walked around inside the dim structure. “I stepped on a nail in here as a kid and had to get a tetanus shot. I can only imagine that nail’s even more rusty now.”

  “The roof isn’t looking so good,” Remy said, scribbling notes.

  “I honestly think it would be cheaper to tear it down and start over.”

  “You would think that,” Remy said, giving him a disapproving frown.

  “What does that mean?”

  She sucked in a breath and shook her head, as if unwilling to elaborate.

  “Remy. What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing, Sawyer,” she said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “Aside from the fact that you and your brothers are just a little privileged.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind that when we were kids and you were over here every damned day after school.”

  Remy’s expression flashed to anger.

  “I was here to see you, Sawyer.”

  “Well, I’m just saying.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  “What happened to you, Remy?” he asked, turning to her suddenly.

  “What? Nothing,” she said, backing up a step.

  He moved forward another step, all but trapping her against the wall.

  “Something happened while I was gone,” he said.

  She took another step back, running out of room to run. Sawyer didn’t give her an inch of quarter, moving closer until he pressed her curves into the crumbling wall.

  “Sawyer, back off,” she said, a warning in her voice and gaze.

  “Tell me.”

  “There’s nothing. Nothing to tell.”

  “Liar,” he whispered, cupping her cheek.

  “We can’t do this,” she said, staring up at him with those sapphire eyes.

  “We can do anything we want.”

  “That’s just it,” she said, giving her head a soft shake. “You never did understand, there are rules and responsibilities for everyone else.”

  “Sometimes you just have to say fuck it,” he said, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Take what you want.”

  “And where will that get us?”

  Slowly, deliberately, he pressed his hardened cock against her belly. She bit her lip and blushed, making him want her all the more.

  “Somewhere good,” he said.

  “No,” she said, blowing out a breath. “I’ve let my guard down with you before, Sawyer. It never leads anywhere good.”

  He smirked, leaning down to kiss her. She accepted him for the barest second, then pushed him back a step.

  “We can’t do this. Let’s go.”

  She hurried out of the building, and by the time he’d adjusted his erection and made it outside, she was already waiting on her horse.

  This is going well, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

  They rode on, with Remy barely speaking to him for a good hour or more, only a yes or a no at best. At last Sawyer spotted the huge, rickety pump house.

  “Let’s break for lunch after this,” he suggested.

  Remy shrugged, breaking into a trot for the last minute of the ride. The pump house was two stories high, made of dark, rough timber. Sitting next to the river, the ancient pump tapped into Cur Creek’s water table. It fed not only Remy’s house but all the crops as well, the same outdated watering system used on their land since time immemorial.

  Once the horses were tied up, and Remy and Sawyer were actually eye level with the pump house, it was actually even more junky than he’d first thought. Just a tall jumble of boards slapped around the well and pump inside, the whole thing ready to come down at any moment.

  “It’s leaning worse than the Tower of Pisa,” Sawyer said, cocking his head to meet the shanty’s leftward lean.

  “It’s not in such bad shape,” Remy said, walking over and patting one of the rough boards.

  “So you can spare affection for the pump house, but not for me?” he asked.

  Remy glared at him. “Let’s just make our list.”

  “No way. You’re not even going in there. We should just rebuild.”

  She whirled, her hands landing on her hips.

  “This pump house was built by my great-great-grandfather!” she said.

  “Yes, and it’s lived a very good life. It’s one good storm from falling over flat, though.”

  “I think you underestimate the sturdiness of it,” Remy said. “It can be salvaged.”

  “Sure, if we want to prop it up every time the wind blows. Are you volunteering for that duty?”

  Remy scowled. “You are making this so difficult.”

  “Me? You’re the one who refuses to change anything,” Sawyer said, growing tense.

  “Some of us aren’t just willing to forgive and forget the past.”

  “No kidding! You’ve made that pretty fucking clear, Remy.”

  “It’s not my fault that you can’t appreciate the history of things!” she snapped.

  “I’ve been trying since I got here, but you won’t give me a straight answer about anything,” Sawyer protested.

  “You know what? How about you take all your changes, and your money, and shove it up your ass?” Remy shouted.

  “Oh, you’d like that! You’d love to be able to avoid me, wouldn’t you?”

  “I really, really would, Sawyer. You are out of your depth here, and you don’t even know it. My life is none of your damned business.”

  “Since when are you not my business?”

  “Since you walked out on me four years ago without a word!” she cried, throwing her arms up.

  “I knew it!” he growled. “I knew you were still upset about it.”

  “Yeah, well. You win,” Remy said, looking furious. “I’m angry at you. I hope it’s what you wanted.”

  “I wanted you to be honest with me,” he challenged.

  “How would I even start?” Remy asked. He could hear the hint of tears in her voice.

  “Remy…” he said, moving to comfort her.

  “No! You can’t just fix everything with an apology, Sawyer! Life doesn’t work that way.”

  She thrust the notebook at him, untied her horse, and moved to mount.

  “You’re leaving,” he surmised, feeling disappointed.

  “Yeah. I don’t know how many ways to tell you that I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “How are we supposed to move past this if you won’t talk to me about it?”

  “You know, maybe we’re just better when we’re apart,” she said, clearly out of patience.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “And you know nothing.”

  She swung her leg up, grabbed the reins, and rode off uphill toward the main house.

  “Fuck,” Sawyer said, sweeping his hat off as he watched her go. “Fuck, fuck!”

  She didn’t look back, just left him standing there like a fool… yet again.

  Sixteen

  “Quit moping,” Colt said. “Seriously.”

  “I’m not moping,” Sawyer insisted, looking out the kitchen window. “I’m just concerned about the weather. The sky outside is just begging for a tornado.”

  “Actually, it’s flash flooding we should be worried about,” Walker said, kicking his feet up on the table.

  “And yet,” Sawyer said, dropping the curtain. “You look pretty fucking relaxed.”

  Walker shrugged. “We secured a
ll of our animals earlier today.”

  “Yeah? What about the Rivers?” Sawyer asked.

  Colt and Walker shot each other a knowing look that made Sawyer’s guts roil.

  “This is hardly their first storm, Sawyer. I think they can handle it, just like they did before you came back, huh?”

  Sawyer’s fists bunched of their own volition; he was spoiling for a fight, and his brothers ought to know it. Or rather, they did, and just wanted to see how far they could push him.

  He moved to the fridge for a beer, not willing to let Colt or Walker rile him up.

  With a great crack of thunder, the skies finally opened. Sawyer swigged his beer and looked out the window again, watching the rain flying down so hard it was practically coming in sideways.

  “Damn,” Colt said. “Say what you will about Marilee’s renovation, at least the roof is in good condition.”

  Unlike Remy’s house, was Sawyer’s first thought.

  He set his beer down with a thunk. “I’m going over there.”

  Colt and Walker both shook their heads. “No way, man!”

  Colt’s protest fell on deaf ears. Sawyer threw on a rain parka and went out into the storm, immediately soaked through. He checked to make sure he had his tools, then drove over to Remy’s house. It was slow-going, the visibility crazy low because of the storm.

  Once he made it over to the farm, he saw Remy’s father struggling to board up a gaping hole at the side of the barn. Jumping out of his car, Sawyer ran over to help, surprising the hell out of Braxton River.

  “What are you doing here?” Braxton demanded to know.

  “Here,” Sawyer said, grabbing the wood plank the older man grappled with. “I’ll hold, you nail.”

  Braxton gave him a skeptical look but completed the work quickly enough. When he was done, he waved Sawyer into the barn.

  “You brought Remy back?” Braxton asked.

  “What? No.”

  “She’s not with you?” her father asked.

  “Uh, no. She’s not even speaking to me.”

  “She could be anywhere,” Braxton said, beginning to sound alarmed.

  “Let me call her phone,” Sawyer suggested. He dialed, got voicemail.

  This is Remy, leave a message at the beep!

  “Nothing.”

  “Hell,” Braxton said. “She might be trying to shore up the tractor shed.”

  Sawyer’s mind flashed to earlier in the week, her affection for the pump house and his insistence that it would be gone with the next storm. That storm was now here, and Sawyer was willing to bet that Remy was at the pump house.

  “I know where she is,” he said, shaking his head. “Can you get Micah and meet me down at the pump house?”

  “Sure, but the road will hardly be driveable right now,” Braxton said.

  “I drove in some pretty terrifying conditions as a SEAL. I can handle it here.”

  “All right. We’ll be right after you.”

  Sawyer was already moving, flinging himself into his car and shutting out the pouring rain. He had to drive more carefully as he headed downhill toward the river, his tires spinning in places, the car slipping and sliding in others.

  By the time he got as close as he could to the pump house, Cur Creek was so swollen that it had overflowed its banks. Lightning crashed, rain poured down. And yet, Sawyer willingly climbed out of his car, wading through mud toward the pump house.

  Sure enough, when he came around the side, he saw Remy clinging to the porch as she tried to wedge a bolstering piece of lumber against the porch.

  “Remy, what the fuck!” he called.

  She nearly dropped the board, turning to him. Her eyes were wide, her blonde hair plastered down against her skull.

  “Sawyer?” she asked, as if he might be some invading alien.

  “Get in the damned car, Remy,” he snarled.

  “I have to—” she started, but before she could finish, a piece of the deck beneath her feet gave away. The whole pump house lurched toward the river, Remy clinging to the porch for dear life.

  “No no no!” he shouted, racing toward her as the whole structure groaned, then slowly folded in on itself.

  Left with no other choice, Remy jumped… right into the rushing floodwaters.

  The moment that she went under, her blonde head vanishing into the muddy brown water, Sawyer’s whole world fell out from under him.

  “REMY!” he screamed, kicking off his shoes.

  He flung himself toward where she’d vanished, without sparing a second thought for anything but catching her. He went in, sinking deep in the icy water, his own head submerging a time or two.

  After a moment, he kicked to the surface and sucked in a breath, the water snatching and churning at him. His hand hit something warm, but he lost it.

  “Remy!” he gurgled, seeing a flash of her rain jacket.

  Up ahead, a tree bent over the creek. The water was pouring around it, and the tree wouldn’t last long…

  But he saw Remy grab onto it, even as the roots started to pull from the soil. Thinking quickly, he thrashed his way toward her, grabbing for purchase on another sickly little tree.

  “Remy, I’m right here!” he said, only a few feet behind her.

  Her head turned, her face so pale she was nearly blue. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

  “Don’t move, okay?” he said. “I’m going to come to you.”

  Using the tree, he swung himself around in the current until he was aligned with her, then held his breath and let go. To his infinite luck, he crashed right into Remy, taking her and the tree along with him.

  Between their bodies and the tree, though, they were heavy enough to be pushed to the bank again, this time a low sandy bank. They both crawled out of the water, shivering and shaking.

  “Don’t stop moving,” he urged, helping her to her feet. “We have to go uphill and find shelter.”

  Remy just nodded, taking the hand he offered and clinging to him for all she was worth. They trudged up to the washed-out gravel road and followed it up for over a mile.

  Headlights flashed and bounced, and suddenly Walker appeared in his Escalade.

  Thank God, Sawyer thought.

  “Mr. River sent me!” Walker called. “Get in!”

  Helping Remy in first, Sawyer climbed in and held onto her as Walker deftly reversed and slogged through the mud, creeping back toward the main house.

  When they pulled up outside the bunkhouse, Walker glanced at them. “I’ll catch you two later.”

  “Sawyer…” Remy said.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No talking right now.”

  He opened the truck door and got out, ignoring Remy’s outraged noises as he scooped her up and carried her toward his apartment.

  “Sawyer, put me down!” she said, her voice muffled by being upside down and pressed against his shoulder.

  “Shut up, Remy,” he said.

  Once he got her inside, he quickly stripped off his outer layers of clothing and then started stripping off hers.

  “Sawyer!” she squeaked as he tugged off her jeans.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” he said. “Take off your bra and panties, or I will.”

  Her eyes went big, but she bit her lip and obeyed, if slowly.

  “Get under the comforter,” he ordered, pointing. “I’m going to turn the heat up.”

  He paused, grabbing his cell phone and tossing it to her. “Call your father, tell him you’re safe and that you’re staying here tonight.”

  “Sawyer…”

  He shot her look, silencing her protest.

  Still in his wet boxers and t-shirt, he went to change the thermostat. When he came back, she was shivering under the comforter.

  Yanking his t-shirt up over his head, he shoved his boxers down, basking for a second in the pure shock on Remy’s face.

  “What, you forgot?” he asked, wishing his anger would let him truly enjoy the moment.

  “I
— I—” she stuttered, tearing her eyes away.

  “Now move over,” he growled.

  He climbed into the bed beside her, freezing his ass off. And yeah, maybe he was already hard for her, but he was also fucking pissed and beyond cold. Nothing was getting resolved until her lips stopped being blue, that was sure enough.

  “Sawyer!” she protested again as he moved to lie beside her, pulling her back against his body and tucking the comforter around them.

  “Don’t make me tell you again, Remy,” he said, squeezing her hip bone. “We’re having quiet time.”

  She shivered in his arms, her eyes closing. It took a few minutes for the chill to recede, for her to stop trembling as he held her close. Once she warmed a little, though, she seemed to have a new problem.

  “Can you not stay still?” he asked, nearly groaning as she shifted the delicious warmth of her ass against his already aching cock.

  “I, uh…” she said.

  He raised his head a little, saw how red her face was getting.

  “Are you getting turned on right now?” he asked point-blank.

  “Well… I mean…” she muttered, biting her lip. “It’s been a while, for me.”

  “How long is a while?” he asked, his anger seeming to slip away from him as he skimmed a hand up her bare hip.

  “Well…” she said, sucking in a breath when his lips brushed her shoulder. “A long time.”

  “How long, Remy?” he asked, bringing his hand around to tease her ribs, the underside of her breast.

  “Four years,” she whispered.

  He froze for a second. “You waited for me?”

  “No!” she said, beginning to try to wiggle out of his arms.

  “Oh, you’re not getting away from me now, Remy,” he said, the carnal threat in his words plain.

  She turned, gasping when he kissed her, pulling her atop his body. It all went too fast, hips rocking and tongues clashing. Remy’s heated sex pressed against his cock, making him mad with hunger. He hardly got to explore her lush breasts and skim his hands down her hips before she was hot as lava.

  “Do you have a condom?” she whispered, nibbling at his ear.

  When he pulled one out from behind his pillow, she actually laughed. Three seconds later he had her on her back, knees parted, and he was sinking deep into the best pussy he’d ever had in his life.