by Lisa Carter
Kicking one boot free of the stirrup, he extended his hand. “Yup. Put your foot there and I’ll haul you the rest of the way.”
“Haul?” She grunted as he heaved her upward. “You make me sound so...less than elegant.”
Sawyer edged back on the mare, making room. “Ready?”
Her eyes glinted. “Semper paratus, Coastie. Always.”
Sawyer held her steady, and positioned her in front of him. She teetered, almost unseating them both. “Easy there, Girly-Girl.”
Honey grabbed for the saddle horn. “I’d forgotten what a long way it is to fall.”
Sawyer wrapped his arms around her, taking the reins. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. Froggy rocked into motion. She gasped.
He tightened his hold around her waist. “I’d never let you fall.” His mouth brushed against her hair. “And if you did fall, I’d catch you, I promise.”
Sawyer breathed in the signature fragrance of her hair. Gardenias, the only scent in his opinion that topped horses and hay. Bypassing the rundown corral, he steered the horse toward the rim of trees.
At the easy rhythm of the horse, she gradually relaxed her stiff posture and leaned into him for support. His heart went into overdrive.
“It’s beautiful here.”
Sawyer pulled the reins taut and rested Froggy at the top of an incline with grand views of the farm on one side and the tidal creek beyond the sloping bank. “I wish there’d been a place like this for me and Cotton when we were kids.” He clamped his lips together at his inadvertent admission.
Honey twisted in the saddle. “Cotton? Is that your sister?”
Sawyer heaved a sigh. “My little sister. Towheaded—so I called her Cotton.”
Honey’s mouth quirked. “You do love the nicknames, don’t you, Coastie?”
At her choice of words, he laughed. “Appears I’m not the only one.”
She smiled. “Would you tell me about your sister? Please?”
Holding the reins loosely, he struggled for an even tone before he found the courage to speak. “She had sky blue eyes.”
“Like yours.” Honey touched his cheek with her hand.
Sawyer nestled for a moment in the warmth of her palm. “Hers were a tad darker, I think. She was sweet and quiet.” He frowned. “Too quiet. So as not to draw Dad’s anger when he was on one of his drunks.”
“What happened to her, Sawyer?”
Angling out of reach of her hand, he faced the water. “I don’t know. I was ten when my dad was arrested for armed robbery and went to prison. Cotton was five. Mom left us when she was three. I’m not sure Cotton remembered her.” He shrugged. “Probably better that way. There’s a lot of things I wish I could forget.”
“Why were you separated?”
He really didn’t want to have this conversation with her. He’d spent the greater portion of his life trying to put it behind him. Not dwelling on situations that couldn’t be fixed.
Sideways in the saddle, she rested her cheek against the fabric of his shirt and twined her arms around his torso. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But after what you said at the hospital, I wondered. It hurts me how much you hurt as a boy.”
And he found himself telling Honey what he’d never told another soul. How Child Protective Services took them from the hovel they’d called home when their father went to jail. How after a temporary emergency foster placement, he and his sister were separated.
The shy, little kindergartner with the flyaway hair was easily adopted. He, the angry, hardheaded preteen, went to a series of foster homes.
“She found her forever home.” He gulped. “I never did.”
His gaze roamed over the top of Honey’s head and across the tidal marsh. Not till he met Honey Duer. Loved and lost his chance with her. Letting Honey, like Cotton and so many other good things, slip through his fingers.
“I can’t understand how they could separate you.” Honey’s breath billowed against his neck. “If I hadn’t had my sisters...”
He brushed his mouth across the silkiness of her hair. “I tried to find her once I turned eighteen and joined the Guard. But the adoption records were sealed. Her adoptive parents changed her name, of course. I had no idea who they were or where they were from.”
Sawyer closed his eyes, reliving that heart-wrenching period after he left the security of the Larsen foster ranch. “I put out information on one of the websites that reunites adoptees with their birth family. But no luck. After a while, I moved around so much with the Guard I stopped looking. She’s probably better off without a brother like me anyway.”
Honey stiffened. “I don’t believe that and neither should you. And don’t you dare say those you touch you ruin.
Sawyer’s eyes flew open.
Honey captured his face between her hands. “If I ever hear you say that again, Sawyer Kole, I’m going to be forced to take drastic action.”
Sawyer’s mouth curved. “The much-touted steel gardenia.” He nuzzled the palm of her hand with his chin. “I’m quaking in my boots.”
“As you should.” She cut her eyes at him. “Tell me why this would have been a perfect place for you and Cotton.”
His eyes returned to the farm acreage. “Not only for me. A great place for foster siblings to reunite for a short time. A week. If I had a million dollars...”
“What would you do?”
He tried to shrug off her question. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” She elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow...”
“Start talking, cowboy. Doesn’t cost anything to dream. I want to hear what cowboy Coasties dream about?”
His heart thudded. This cowboy Coastie dreamed of Beatrice Elizabeth Duer forever in his arms. But that he couldn’t share. So he settled for a safer, as impractical, impossibility.
“Over there,” He gestured at the treelined ridge. “I’d build cabins to house the boys and girls.”
She nodded. “A foster kids camp. Bunk beds. I’m envisioning horse and nautical motifs.”
“No surprise, Girly-Girl, you’d seize on the decorative portions of the dream first.”
“We use the gifts we’re given, Coastie.” She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “What else is in this foster camp vision of yours?”
“I’d assign each sibling their own personal horse for the week. And bonding time activities with the brothers or sisters they only get to visit once or twice a year, if ever.”
She smiled. “Learning much more than how to ride and care for an animal. Learning trust, empathy, teamwork and life skills.”
Brow creasing, he stared at her. She’d managed to totally grasp his hitherto unvoiced, secret dream.
Honey motioned toward the inlet. “And water sports. Fishing. Canoeing. Clamming. Marsh muck. ’Cause this would be a Shore thing.”
Sawyer moistened his lips. “The sky’s the limit in our pretend world.”
Honey released a gust of air. “I like our pretend world.”
So did he.
He forced himself to look away from her rapt expression. “We better get going. I’ve got to feed the horses, and there was that problem at the lodge you wanted me to fix.”
She sighed. Relief or resignation? If he died right now on a horse overlooking the water with Honey in his arms, he’d die forever happy and blessed.
With reluctance, he turned the mare toward the barn.
He—and Honey—went stall to stall feeding the horses. She, of course, fed them with typical Honey flair. Clad once again in those ridiculous heels.
Sawyer ran his hand over the palomino’s broad back. It’d been a long while since he’d spent this much time with horses. “Mr. Keller comes home from rehab tomorrow. Guess my work here is
about done.”
“And you’ve loved every minute of it, haven’t you?”
He raised his eyes to find Honey studying him, a pucker between those perfectly plucked brows. A rightness settled in his heart. Despite their teasing of each other, she always seemed to know him best. Better sometimes than he understood himself.
“Yeah. I have.”
She hung over the stall door, watching him groom Froggy. It wasn’t too hard to imagine her as a child— a little girl who didn’t like to get her clothes dirty. But who, once provoked, could give as good as she got.
And he would’ve been the self-appointed one messing with her hair, chasing her with a reptile, pushing her into the mud... He felt a great deal of kinship with Max these days.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
He ducked his head. “Nothing. Ready to go?” He swung the door—and Honey—wide.
Light-footed, she leaped to the ground. Wobbled in her heels. “I’m ready when you are.”
Sawyer doubted that very much. He followed her in his Chevy out to the Duer Lodge. She waited for him at the bottom of the wide-planked porch steps.
His breath hitched when he beheld the gaping holes like missing teeth in the railing. Three spindles lay on the ground between the dwarf gardenia bushes. “What happened here?”
Climbing the steps, he examined the damage to the railing. “Looks like someone took a...” He glanced at Honey.
Refusing to meet his gaze, she stared off into the distance, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. A sneaking suspicion grew in his mind.
Sawyer reclined against one of the pillars and rested one booted foot over his ankle. “Vandals, you say?”
Her eyes flitted to his. “Vandals.” Her gaze darted away again. “Think you can fix it?”
“I’m gonna try.”
“Good. Thank you.” Her mouth softened. “Are you available to paint tomorrow? I can’t trust anyone else to do as good a job as you.”
Sawyer tilted his head. “Thought you couldn’t wait to be rid of me, Beatrice, once the job was done?”
Honey leaned against another porch pillar and folded her arms across her jacket. “Exactly. We’re not finished yet. Not by a long shot.”
Sawyer’s heart pounded at the look on her face. If only...
Her eyes beckoned. “Also... I owe you a date.”
Sawyer pushed off from the column. “You don’t owe—”
“Yes, I do.” She raised her chin. “That was our agreement regarding whoever had the best rubber duck finish. I keep my side of a bargain.”
Cold turkey was appearing less and less palatable. Time enough to nurse his broken heart once he transferred to Station Emerald Isle. “How about Tuesday night?”
She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
He clasped her hand. Goose bumps skittered across his arms. “Deal.”
Sawyer glanced around the wraparound porch. “And Beatrice? You might want to keep a better watch out for those vandals so nothing else gets damaged.”
That earned him a smile. The sweet, flirty Honey smile he remembered from three years ago.
“No worries.” She waved her hand. “I know where to go when I need something fixed.”
His stomach did that curious clutching, clenching thing it did whenever she was around. He’d look forward to their coming date with equal amounts of dread and anticipation. What was he doing—going on a date with Honey? What was the point in pursuing a relationship with someone like her?
Main thing that needed fixing was his head for torturing himself with what could never be.
Because his heart, Sawyer had figured out a long time ago, was beyond fixing when it came to Honey Duer.
Chapter Seventeen
“Talk about cutting it close, baby sis? I thought I’d have to pry you away from the inn with a crowbar.”
Honey made a face in the dresser mirror. “I know how to use one of those now, you know.”
Amelia smirked. “Thanks to Sawyer. Whom you’re going to keep waiting if you don’t finish getting ready. Dad promised the punch list would be completed without your supervision.”
“But I didn’t get to unwrap the plastic from the mantel Dad installed this afternoon.”
“No need to micromanage every detail. Dad can handle it. You’ll see the finished product soon enough.”
Honey concentrated on applying the plum-toned gloss to her lips. She frowned at her shaking hand.
Amelia laughed, not missing Honey’s unsteadiness. “The anticipation mounts, eh Honey?”
“It’s not like we haven’t been out before.”
Amelia feathered a tendril of hair over Honey’s shoulder. “But it’s the first in a long time. And the night is young. Full of possibilities.”
Honey sank onto the bed. “New beginnings.”
She could hardly wait to be back in her attic bedroom. “Seems like not too long ago we were getting you all gussied up for the big Coastie ball with Braeden.”
“And it was you who helped me figure out what I really wanted.” Amelia tucked the lacy shawl around Honey’s shoulders. “Now I’m an old married woman with two fabulous children.”
“If only I knew what to do about Sawyer and me.”
Amelia eased down beside her. “I think you’re overthinking things. You love him and he—”
“Stop right there.” Honey held up her hand, palm out. “I never said I loved him. And who knows what the ever stoic Sawyer Kole thinks or feels.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “Denial doesn’t become you, Honey. It’s obvious he’s crazy about you. He asked you out, didn’t he?”
Actually, the date—as Honey recollected—involved her asking him. And with some arm twisting, he’d agreed as if against his better judgment.
“Sawyer’s more than proven his sincerity and trustworthiness.” Amelia waved her hand. “Just look at the hours he’s devoted to restoring the lodge.” She cocked her hand. “And not because he loves the smell of wood chips and paint.”
Honey glanced toward the window overlooking Mrs. Crockett’s driveway. The furniture had gone into the house this afternoon, thanks to neighbors and off duty Coasties. But Dad had insisted they wait to move in tomorrow, allowing any lingering traces of paint fumes to dissipate before bringing Baby Patrick and Max into the house.
The lodge would reopen to guests next weekend in time for Harbor Fest. And none of it would have been possible without Sawyer. So why couldn’t she bring herself to admit those three little words? Why still so reluctant to trust?
“What are you afraid of, Honey?”
Her mouth trembled. “I’m scared of loving and being let down again. Scared of giving my heart and soul only to be abandoned again.”
“Your soul belongs to God, Honey. Once you make that right, I think everything else will fall into place. Because if you’re honest, your heart has never stopped belonging to Sawyer Kole.”
She made a face. “Love is so messy.”
Amelia laughed. “So beyond your micromanaging control.”
Honey sighed. “Exactly.”
“And so wondrously, marvelously beyond your greatest imagining. Same as with God, if you have the courage to believe and step out in faith.”
Honey spun the pearl stud on her earlobe. “Where I can free-fall onto the rocks below.”
“Where always the loving arms of God await, no matter what.”
“Trusting Sawyer is one thing.” Honey shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to trust God, too. Not after what happened to Mom and Lindi.”
Her sister’s eyes softened. “Truth is, I’m afraid you may not be able to have one without the other. Not if you seek real peace and happiness. But only you can make that decision to open your heart to Sawy
er and God.”
At the sound of tires crunching on the oyster shell driveway, Honey glanced out the window. “He’s here. Maybe after Harbor Fest I’ll have the time for a new beginning with Sawyer and God. Better to take things slow.”
“Don’t leave things too late, Honey. Life rarely goes as we plan. And if we’ve learned anything from Mom and Lindi’s deaths, it’s best not to put off what should be done or said today. I’ve always wondered if we’d said or done something, tried harder with Caroline...” Amelia steered Honey toward the stairs. “A topic best saved for another day. Off you go, time for your new beginning.”
Honey found Sawyer waiting downstairs in the foyer. He and her dad had their heads close together, whispering. Sawyer’s eyes warmed when she appeared on the landing.
The Coastie didn’t look too shabby, either, in his fitted jeans. And underneath his blazer, the indigo blue dress shirt heightened the contrast with his light blue eyes and wind-bronzed tan. Being Sawyer, the shirt remained untucked as usual during his off duty hours.
He held out his hand. She curled her fingers around his. His eyes sparkled at her. “You look...”
“Yep, she does.” Her dad clapped a hand on each of their shoulders, shoving them toward the door. “Don’t you two have somewhere to be? Daylight’s not the only thing burning.” He scratched the side of his neck and darted his eyes at Sawyer. “If you get my drift.”
She flicked a look in her father’s direction. Three years ago he’d have met Sawyer on the porch with a shotgun. My, how times had changed.
“Yessir. You’re right.” Sawyer ushered her out the door and toward his truck.
Her heart drummed with anticipation. Maybe it was time to jump. And to learn to fly.
* * *
She looked so good in the silky, black sheath dress. So elegant with her hair waving around her shoulders. The ubiquitous pearls at her earlobes and around her throat. The strappy black sandals on her slim, arched feet. Too good to be sitting in his old pickup truck. Too good for him, the throwaway kid from Oklahoma.
His heart sank. She deserved so much more than what he had to offer. Seeing her tonight made his decision clearer and yet harder at the same time.
