SAWYER

by Lori Foster

  There was a lot of ribald macho humor over that remark. Jordan choked down a laugh, and this time Gabe kicked him.

  With a glare that encompassed them all, Honey stalked off. She was truly weary and wondering where in the world she was going to find shoes for her feet so she could steal a car and make her getaway from a group of large, overprotective, domineering men whom she didn't really want to leave at all.

  Gads, life had gotten complicated.

  HE KNOCKED on the door, but she didn't answer. Sawyer assumed she was mad and ignoring him, not that he'd let her get away with it. He opened the door just a crack – and saw the bed was empty. She was gone. His first reaction was pure rage, tinged with panic, totally out of proportion, totally unexpected. He shoved the door wide and stalked inside, and then halted abruptly when he saw her. His gut tightened and his heart gave a small thump at the picture she presented.

  Honey sat on the small patio outside his room. She had her feet curled up on a chair, her head resting to the side, and she was looking at the lake. Or maybe she wasn't looking at anything at all. He couldn't see her entire face, only a small part of her profile. She looked limp, totally wrung out, and it angered him again when he thought of her stubbornness, her refusal to let him help her.

  No one had ever refused his help. He was the oldest, and his brothers relied on him for anything they might need, including advice. Casey got everything from him that he had to give. Members of the community sought him out when they needed help either with a medical problem or any number of others things. He was a figurehead in the town, on the town council and ready and willing to assist. He gave freely, whatever the need might be, considering it his right, part and parcel with who and what he was. But now, this one small woman wanted to shut him out. Like hell.

  Her physical impact on his senses was staggering. But it was nothing compared to the damn emotional impact, because the emotions were the hardest to fight and to understand. If it was only sex he wanted, he'd drive over the county limits and take care of the need. But he wanted her specifically, and it was making him nuts.

  Being summer, it was still lift out at eight o'clock, but the sun was starting to sink in the sky, slowly dipping behind a tree-topped hill across the lake. The last rays of sunshine sent fiery ribbons of color over the smooth surface of the water. A few ducks swam by, and far out a fish jumped.

  Sawyer went back and closed the bedroom door silently, drawn to her though he knew he should just walk away. As he passed the bathroom, he noticed her toothbrush, still wet, on the side of the sink, along with a damp washcloth over the spigot, and his comb that he'd lent her. Those things looked strangely natural in his private domain, as if they belonged. She'd evidently prepared for bed, then was lured – as he often was – by the incredible serenity of the lake.

  Though the house had a very comfortable covered deck across the entire front and along one side by the kitchen, he'd still insisted on adding the small patio off his bedroom. In the evening, he often sat outside and just watched the night, waiting for the stars or the clouds to appear, enjoying the way mist rose from the lake to leave lingering dew on everything. The peacefulness of it would sink into his bones, driving away any restlessness. Many times his son or one of his brothers would join him. They didn't talk, they just sat in peace together, enjoying the closeness.

  He'd never shared a moment like this with a woman, not even his wife.

  He approached Honey on silent feet. She looked melancholy and withdrawn, and for a long time he simply took in the sight of her. He'd seen her looking fatigued with illness and worry, and he'd seen her eyes snapping with anger or panic. He'd watched her cheeks warm with a blush, her brow pucker with worry over his son. He'd even seen her muster up her courage to embrace a verbal duel with Morgan. Sawyer had known her such a short time, but in that time, he had truly related to her. Whereas hours might be spent on a date, her health had dictated they bypass the cordial niceties of that convention, and their relationship had been intimate from the first. The effects were devastating. He'd already spent more time in her company than most men would through weeks of dating.

  Every facet of her personality enthralled him more than it should have. He wanted to see her totally relaxed, without a worry, finally trusting him to take care of her and make things right.

  And most of all, he wanted to see her face taut with fierce pleasure as he made love to her, long and slow and deep.

  He slid the French door open, and she looked at him. There were two outdoor chairs on his private patio, and he pulled one close to her. He spoke softly in deference to the quiet of the night and the quiet in her blue eyes. "You look pensive."

  "Hmm." She turned to stare back out at the lake, tilting her head at the sound of the crickets singing in the distance. "I was...uneasy. But this is so calming, like having your problems washed away. It's hard to maintain any energy out here, even for irritation."

  "You shouldn't be irritated just because we want to help."

  Her golden brown lashes lowered over her eyes. "Dinner with your family was ... interesting. Around our house, there was only my sister and me. It was always quiet, and if we talked, it was in whispers because the house was so silent. Dinner wasn't a boisterous event."

  "We can take a little getting used to."

  She smiled. "No, I enjoyed myself. The contrast was wonderful, if that makes any sense."

  That amused him, because meals at home were always a time to laugh and grouse and share. She'd probably find a lot of contrasts, and he hoped she enjoyed them all. But it also made him sad, thinking of how lonely her life must have been. "It makes perfect sense," he assured her.

  "Good."

  Because it had surprised him, he added, "You held your own with my brothers."

  She laughed, closing her eyes lazily. "Yes. Morgan is a bully, but I have the feeling he's fair."

  Sawyer considered her words and the way she'd spoken them. "Honorable might be a better word. Morgan can be very unfair when he's convinced it's for the best. He's a no-holds-barred kind of man when he's got a mission."

  Her long blond hair trailed over her shoulder all the way to her thigh, catching the glow of the setting sun as surely as the lake did. She tilted her chin up to a faint warm breeze, and his blood rushed at the instinctively feminine gesture and the look of bliss on her face. "It was so cold inside," she whispered, "I wanted to feel the sunshine. I came out here to warm up, then couldn't seem to make myself go back in."

  They did keep the air low, but not so much that she should be uncomfortable. He reached over and placed his palm on her forehead, then frowned. "You could be a little feverish again. Did you take the ibuprofen I left in the bathroom?"

  "Yes, I did. And the antibiotic." She blinked her eyes open and sighed. "Did I thank you for taking such good care of me, Sawyer?"

  A low thrumming started in his veins, making his body throb. He could feel his own heartbeat, the acceleration of his pulse – just because she'd said his name. "I don't know, but it isn't necessary."

  "To me it is. Thank you."

  He swallowed down a groan. He wanted to lift her onto his lap and hold her for hours, just touching her, breathing in her spicy scent, which kept drifting to him in subtle, teasing whiffs. Right now, she smelled of sunshine and warmth and the musky scent of woman, along with a fragrance all her own, one that seemed to be seeping into his bones. It drove him closer to the edge and made him want to bury himself in the unique scent.

  But beyond that, he wanted to strip her naked and settle her into his bed. He wanted to look his fill, to feel her slender thighs wrap tight around his hips, her belly pressed to his abdomen, her body open and accepting as he pushed inside for a nice long slow ride, taking his time to get her out of his blood.

  He wanted to comfort her and he wanted to claim her, conflicting emotions that left him angry at his own weakness.

  He was aware of her watching him, and then she said, "Can I ask you a few questions?"

&nb
sp; He laughed, and the sound was a bit rusty with his growing arousal. "I'd have to be a real bastard to say no, considered how my brothers and I have questioned you tonight."

  She sent him an impish smile. "True enough." She curled her legs up a little higher then rested her cheek on her bent knees. "Why did Morgan really become a sheriff?"

  That wasn't at all what he'd been expecting, and her interest in his brother brought on a surge of annoyance. "You think there's a secret reason?"

  "I think there's a very personal reason." She shooed a mosquito away from her face, then resettled herself. "And I'm curious about him."

  Sawyer felt himself tense, though he tried to hide it. "Curious, as in he's a man and you're a woman?"

  She looked at his mouth. "No. Curious as in he's your brother, and therefore a part of you."

  Satisfied, his twinge of unreasonable jealousy put to rest, Sawyer turned to look at the lake. "There's no denying our relationship, is there? Morgan and I share a lot of the same features, even though he is a bit of an overgrown hulk. Except I have my father's eyes, and he has my mother's."

  "You look alike more so than the other two."

  "We had a different father. Our father died when Morgan was just a baby."

  "Oh." She shifted, unfolding her long legs and sitting upright. She reached over and touched his arm, just a gentle touch with the tips of her fingers, lightly stroking, but the effect on his body was startling. He felt that damn stroke in incredible places.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had thought your mother just divorced."

  He covered her hand with his own to still the tantalizing movement. "She was that, too."

  "But..."

  To keep the emotions she evoked at bay, he launched into a dispassionate explanation. "She married Jordan's father when I was five, and divorced him shortly after Jordan was born. I barely remember him, but he lost his job after the marriage and he started drinking. It became a problem. At first my mother tried to help him through it, but she would only tolerate so much in front of her children, and he couldn't seem to help himself, or so she's said. So she left him. Or rather, she divorced him and he took off and we never hear from him. My mother never requested child support, and he never stayed around long enough to offer it."

  "Oh, God. Poor Jordan."

  "Yeah. He wasn't much more than an infant when they divorced, so he didn't know his father at all. He's never mentioned him much. He was always a quiet kid. Morgan loved to beat up the boys who gave Jordan any grief. We both used to try to protect him. We sort of understood that he was different, quiet but really intense."

  "He's not so quiet now." She made a face, wrinkling her nose, probably remembering the way Jordan had teased her about her bath. "He's not as demanding as Morgan, but I wouldn't exactly call him shy."

  "No. He's not shy." Sawyer smiled, thinking of how she'd stomped on Jordan's foot. "None of my brothers are. But Jordan isn't as outgoing as the others, either."

  "When did he change?" An impish light twinkled in her eyes. "After his first girlfriend?"

  She was teasing, and Sawyer liked that side of her, too. "Actually, it happened when he was only ten. He found some kids tormenting a dog. He told them to leave the dog alone, and instead, one boy threw a rock at it. The dog, a really pitiful old hound, let out a yelp, and Jordan went nuts on the boys." Sawyer chuckled, remembering that awesome day. "He was like a berserker – impressed the hell out of everyone who watched."

  Honey shook her head. "Males are so impressed by the weirdest things."

  Sawyer glanced at her. "This wasn't weird! It was life-altering stuff. Sort of a coming-of-age kinda thing. My mother had always taught us to be good to animals, and Jordan couldn't bear to see the old dog harassed. The boys were two years older than Jordan, and there were three of them. Morgan and I were on the sidelines, waiting to jump in if we needed to, but being so much older, we couldn't very well start brawling with twelve-year-olds."

  "Too bad they weren't older."

  He heard her impudent wit, but pretended she was serious. "Yeah. Neither of us is fond of idiots who abuse animals. We wouldn't have minded a little retribution of our own. But Jordan held his ground and did a good job of making his point. He ended up with a black eye, a couple dozen bruises, and he needed stitches in his knee. My mother liked to have a fit when she saw him. And Morgan and I got lectured for hours for not stopping the fight. But no one messed with Jordan again after that. And anytime an animal was hurt or sick, someone would tell Jordan. I swear, that man can whisper an animal out of an illness."

  "So that started him on the road to being a vet. What made Morgan decide to be a sheriff?"

  Sawyer turned her hand over and laced his fingers with hers. Her hands were small, slender, warm. Along the shore of the lake, a few ducks waddled by then glided effortlessly into the water, barely leaving a ripple. Peonies growing on the other side of the house lent a sweet fragrance to the air, mixing with her own enticing scent.

  He was horny as hell, and she wanted to talk about his brothers. "Morgan is a control freak," he managed to say around the restriction in his throat.

  "I noticed."

  Since she'd been a recipient of his controlling ways, he supposed she had. "He used to get into a lot of scrapes, sort of a natural-born brawler. Give him a reason to tussle and he'd jump on it. He got in trouble a few times at school, and my mother was ready to ground him permanently. Gabe's dad was a good influence on him."

  Honey started. "Your mother was married three times?"

  Sawyer didn't take offense at her surprise. No one had been more surprised by that third marriage than his mother herself. "Yeah." He smiled, dredging up fond memories. "I was eight years old when Brett Kasper started hanging around. My mother wanted nothing to do with him, and I'd ask her why, since he was so obviously trying to get in good with her and he was a nice guy and we all liked him – even Morgan. Brett would offer to clean out her gutters, play baseball with us, run to open doors for her. But he was always honest about why he did it. He'd tell us he was wooing our mother and ask for our help." Sawyer laughed. "We'd all talk about him to her until finally she'd threaten to withhold dessert if we mentioned his name again. I now understand how burned she felt, losing her first husband in the military, divorcing her second husband as a mistake."

  "Because you went through a divorce, too?"

  He wouldn't get into that with her. The divorce hadn't bothered him that much, unfortunately. It was all the deceit that had changed his life.

  Sawyer shrugged. "My mother worked damn hard to keep everything going, raising four sons, working, keeping up the house. My father's pension helped, even paid for a lot of my college. And we all pitched in, but it wasn't easy for her."

  "She must be incredible."

  "Brett used to say she was as stubborn as an aged mule and twice as ornery."

  "What a romantic."

  Sawyer laughed. "He didn't cut her any slack, which is good because my mother is strong and she wouldn't want a man who couldn't go toe to toe with her. Brett wanted her and he went after her, even though she was gun-shy and didn't want to take another chance. Sometimes she was rude as hell to him. But Brett was pushy and he kept hanging around until he finally wore her down."

  Honey gave him a dreamy smile. "A real happy ending."

  "Yeah. They've been married twenty-eight years now. Brett's great. I love him. He's always treated us the same, as if he'd fathered the lot of us. Even Morgan, who can be so damn difficult."

  "You said he helped Morgan?"

  "He helped redirect Morgan's more physical tendencies by signing him up for boxing. And he set up a gym of sorts in the basement, which we all used until Gabe moved down there. Now there's just a weight room in what is supposed to be a den. My mother frets every time she sees it."

  Honey laughed again, a low, husky sound that vibrated along his nerve endings and made him acutely aware of how closely they sat together, their isolation from the others, the heavin
ess of the humid summer air. He reacted to it all and kissed her knuckles before he could stop himself.

  Just that brief touch made him want so much more. Trying to regroup, he said, "Morgan chose to be a sheriff because he likes control, and for him, that's the ultimate control. But regardless of what he says, it isn't control over other people, it's control of himself. He knows he's more wild than not, that he'll always be more aggressive than most people. Choosing to run for sheriff was his way of forcing himself to be in control at all times."

  She gave a very unladylike snort. "I think he's a big fraud."

  Her misperceptions prompted Sawyer to grin. He could just tell she and Morgan would butt heads again and again if they spent much time around each other. Of course, that was iffy, with her planning to leave and him planning to eventually let her.

  "The hell of it is, Morgan never starts fights, he just finishes them. With that scowl of his, he can bring on a lot of attitude that men, especially bullies, generally object to. And to be fair, he always gives the other guy a chance to back off, but there's that gleam in his eyes that taunts. Morgan's always had an excess of energy and he gets edgy real quick. So to burn up energy, he either fights or he..." Appalled at what he'd almost said, Sawyer stemmed his ridiculous outpouring of personal confidences, wondering if he'd already stepped over the line. He was so comfortable with her, a fact he'd only realized, and she was so damn easy to talk to, he'd completely forgotten himself.

  She tilted her head, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Or what?"

  "Never mind."

  "Oh, no, you don't!" She shook her head even as she fought off a yawn. "No way. You can't just tease me like that and then not tell me."

  She looked sleepy and warm and piqued, all at once. Again he felt that unfamiliar rush of lust and tenderness and knew he was reacting to her when he shouldn't. But he just couldn't help himself. She drew him in without even trying.