by Teri Wilson
Their eyes met, and Sawyer was vaguely aware of Anita’s presence alongside Jamie, watching the way they stared at one another with keen interest. Jamie’s lips curved into a shy smile, and it was then that Sawyer realized he hadn’t been imagining things last night. Something had changed between them in the glittering courtyard. Something real. He wasn’t sure what it might mean for the future or for their respective careers, but for once, he didn’t care about that.
Ridley could wait.
He waved at Jamie, and she waved back. Then a hand landed firmly on Sawyer’s shoulder—Rick’s hand—and Sawyer had no choice but to switch into wingman mode.
“Oh, yeah.” He turned to face Rick. “Now’s your shot.”
Rick paled a little, so Sawyer aimed finger guns at him in a dorky attempt to help him relax. “Be cool.”
Rick rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
Sawyer patted him on the back and gave him a small shove in Lucy’s direction. While Rick slowly made his way toward her, Sawyer snuck a glance at Jamie. Anita poured her a glass of red. She accepted it, then returned Sawyer’s look. Once he had her attention, he nodded subtly toward Rick and Lucy. Since Jamie was such a fan of true love, he figured she’d want to witness the moment when Rick finally told Lucy how he felt.
Jamie turned her gaze toward them, eyes wide.
“Hey, Luce,” Rick said.
Lucy smiled. “Hi.”
Sawyer nodded to himself. So far, so good.
“You said you liked that Chardonnay last time you were here.” Rick gestured toward the bottle in Lucy’s hand. “Unoaked.”
Lucy tipped her head to the side. “You remembered?”
Sawyer and Jamie shared a small smile from across the room.
“I remember all sorts of things.” Rick flashed Lucy one of his Rick the Romancer grins. “Like the first time that we met—August ninth, two years ago. You’d only been in town for a week and you walked in here wearing a purple paisley shirt and ordered a salmon miso. With unoaked Chardonnay.”
“And I remember you were hilarious.” Lucy did a little hair flip, which Sawyer saw as a definite sign of progress. But then she deadpanned, “And dating Megan the Model.”
Ouch.
Rick waved a dismissive hand. “We broke up.”
“Ten months later.” Lucy took a smooth, un-oaky sip from her glass.
Sawyer decided right then and there that he liked Lucy. A lot. Rick needed someone who would challenge him instead of the type who fawned all over him. They’d be great together. The only problem was that Rick had never had to actually work for a woman’s affections before. He needed more than a wingman—he needed a coach.
He cast a pleading look toward Sawyer.
Don’t give up now. Did Sawyer need to give Rick a literal playbook? If Lucy had taken note of the timing surrounding his break-up, surely that meant she was interested in him. Sawyer shot him an urgent get-back-in-the-game look.
Rick took a deep breath and turned back toward Lucy, just in time to see Sweater Guy running toward them.
Sawyer groaned inwardly. Seriously? Now?
“Sorry, sorry! Consults ran late.” Quentin kissed Lucy on both of her cheeks, European style. Sawyer would definitely be hearing about that later. “Hey, Rick.”
Rick sighed and gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. “Um, I gotta go.”
Lucy arched a brow. “Make some risotto?”
Sawyer almost choked on his Bordeaux.
Rick gritted his teeth. “Pour some wine.”
Then he retreated back toward Sawyer’s table while Lucy poured Quentin—who was indeed dressed in another sweater—a glass of the aforementioned unoaked Chardonnay. Oh, the irony.
“Maybe you shouldn’t arrange any more Valentine’s gatherings,” Sawyer muttered once Rick reached his side.
“No. Not at all,” Rick said tersely, then he smoothed down his tie and stalked toward a table in the corner where Lucy and Quentin were settling in. Rick helped them get seated but stole the romantic flower arrangement right off the center of their table as he left.
Another Valentine’s Day event, another disaster. It was becoming a thing.
Sawyer shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the bar while trying to get a read on the Lucy/Quentin situation. Was she really into him? Did she want to someday be Mrs. Sweater Guy?
Sawyer couldn’t see it. He was contemplating what Rick’s next move should be when Jamie slid in next to him. The little furrow in her forehead told him she was thinking about the very same thing.
“What if we sent Lucy a Valentine from Rick? Telling her how he feels?” he murmured, still focusing on the distinct lack of chemistry going on at the Sweater table.
Jamie gasped. “Invade his privacy?”
She had a point. This was real life, not a rom-com. “Fine, fine, fine. No scheming. We’ll just let him continue to pine for her while gently encouraging him to reveal his feelings.”
Because that was going so well.
Jamie shrugged, but looked about as convinced as Sawyer felt. “Well, it’s the mature course of action.”
They both laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and then Jamie pulled a pink cashmere scarf from her pocket and wound it around her neck. Sawyer had been so caught up in the Rick drama that he hadn’t noticed she’d slipped into a wraparound coat—winter white, like the lacy trim on a Valentine.
He felt himself frown. “Heading home?”
“The Fire and Ice Festival starts tomorrow so this hometown girl’s gotta get ready.” She winked at him.
“So does this hometown boy.” It was true. Mostly. “Mind a little company on the walk?”
“Not at all,” she said, as if the past fifteen years had never happened and it was perfectly normal for Sawyer to walk her home.
He placed his hand on the small of her back and escorted her to the door. Outside, the air swirled with gentle raindrops, and the wet pavement shimmered like a watercolor painting. It felt like they were stepping into a misty memory, a dream. And when Jamie pulled an umbrella from her bag, Sawyer opened it for her and they huddled beneath it together, a shelter from the storm.
If she was willing to pretend, then so was he.
Jamie’s plan to remind Sawyer of everything he liked best about Waterford without accidentally falling for him wasn’t going quite as well as she’d planned.
Especially the second part.
She’d tucked herself away inside True Love Books all day as a penance for the mushy, inconvenient feelings that had come over her during their chat in the courtyard the night before. They’d just spent an entire afternoon doing all the things they’d loved to do together back when they were in love, and watching him read the letters Mary and Harrison had written to each other during the war had been the icing on the cake—the very naughty, very bad-for-her cake that she had no business whatsoever eating.
But she’d dug right in anyway. Because who didn’t love cake—especially when said cake was a metaphor for the first boy she’d ever kissed?
Hello?! She took a cleansing breath of rain-soaked air. Newsflash: best not to think about kissing Sawyer while sharing an umbrella with the man.
Too late. She was definitely thinking about it, which is precisely what she’d spent the better part of the past twelve hours doing, in spite of herself. She’d tried her best to forget about the moment when Sawyer had finished the last letter and then looked at her beloved bookshop and its glittering courtyard with the old oak tree rooting True Love so firmly in the past. It had felt like he’d finally seen the bookstore through her eyes. At last, he’d understood just what it meant to her—and while she was glad she’d been able to show that to him, the realization still left her feeling acutely vulnerable.
How did the old saying go? Be careful what you wish for. She’d wished she could make
Sawyer understand, and once he did—once they locked back into sync with each other, the way they used to be—all the feelings she’d been bottling up for the past fifteen years had come flooding back.
Thank goodness Matt had called. Not that Jamie had any desire to speak to him—what could they possibly have to say to each other? She was thankful for the interruption, though. Who knew what would have happened if she and Sawyer had continued making eyes at one another in the moonlight?
Nothing remotely helpful for True Love Books…or for her peace of mind. That was for sure.
“So,” she said, eager to keep her mind off kissing or anything remotely kissing-adjacent. Was she going to have to tattoo the words romantic hiatus across her forehead, so she’d see them every time she looked in the mirror? “We’ve talked about my past and Rick and Lucy, but I couldn’t help noticing we haven’t talked about your love life.”
She was dying to know if he was seeing anyone, even casually, but up until now, she’d been afraid to ask. Truthfully, she still was. He could have fallen in love any number of times over the past fifteen years. As silly as it seemed, Jamie wasn’t sure she could stomach hearing about Sawyer with another woman.
But she couldn’t resist asking, romantic hiatus notwithstanding.
“Because there’s not much to talk about,” he said.
It was a vague response, but Jamie’s heart still soared. “So no one?”
“There was a woman.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. He was wearing his peacoat again—the one that put her in mind of Captain Wentworth and made Jamie go all swoony. She did her best not to look at it. “Sarah. We came close.”
“Close, as in…?” Jamie peered at him. Was he telling her he’d almost gotten married?
“I thought about proposing,” he said quietly.
Jamie blinked. “Wow.”
“Yeah, well. That was about the same time she met the guy who was everything she’d ever wanted. And she said it made her realize that—in her own words—we were just kind of going through the motions.”
Jamie could relate. Sometimes she wondered if she’d only been going through the motions with Matt. If he’d been the love of her life, wouldn’t she have wanted to move to Texas with him when he’d asked? Probably. She’d certainly been ready to pick up and move to Columbia with Sawyer. She’d even applied and been accepted.
Minor detail: Matt had asked her to come with him, and Sawyer hadn’t.
Jamie cleared her throat. “Was she right?”
“Yeah…yeah!” Sawyer gave a decisive nod. “I recognized it even as she was telling me. I’d thought about proposing just because it was the time my life where I thought I should. And Sarah was—is, I should say—a wonderful person. But we were only ever just playing at being a couple instead of really connecting like we should.”
Jamie kept her focus on the rainbow puddles on the sidewalk as they kept walking. She didn’t quite trust herself to meet Sawyer’s gaze when what he’d just described sounded so much like every attempt she’d made at a relationship since they’d broken up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It hurt my ego, not my heart.” He gave her shoulder a gentle bump with his. “I know the difference.”
So did she.
The last time she’d felt truly heartbroken had been fifteen long years ago. She’d thought that meant she’d simply grown up and become more mature. But now she couldn’t help wondering if she’d been holding herself back. After all, if she never fell as hard for anyone as she had for Sawyer, she’d never end up as devastated as she’d been after their break-up. But was that really a way to live?
She’d certainly thought so until Sawyer popped back into her life. She’d even been fine with the idea of taking a break from romance altogether. Now, though…
Now she wasn’t so sure. About anything.
They walked the rest of the way to Jamie’s house in companionable silence. It had been a while since she’d spent time with someone without feeling the need to fill the quiet moments with chatter. She’d forgotten how nice it felt to simply walk together and just be.
It wasn’t until she paused at the walkway in front of her Cape Cod-style cottage that Sawyer seemed to realize they’d reached their destination. The rain had stopped, so he snapped the umbrella closed and finally took in the sight of the gabled roof and white picket fence.
For a second, she wondered if he’d recognize it.
Then his face broke into a broad smile. Of course he did. “You live at your parents’ house?”
She nodded. “Yep. I bought it six months ago, right before they left on their big retirement trip across the continent.”
They strolled toward the porch as Sawyer’s gaze roamed over the house and his smile turned wistful. “Oh, yeah. They always talked about wanting to do that.”
“Yep, and they did it. I just couldn’t stand the thought of letting this place go.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” He gave their umbrella a gentle shake and water droplets flew, nourishing the pots of red begonias lining the curved walkway. “I always loved this place. Whenever I think about having a home of my own, it looks like this.”
“You don’t have a house?” Jamie tucked a lock of hair behind her ear to get a better look at him. She couldn’t imagine grown-up Sawyer without a home of his own. He’d dreamed about buying a house for as long as she’d known him—an old, historical building that he could restore and maintain. A house with “stories in its bones,” as he used to say.
“Condo, but I’m not there that much,” he said.
They climbed the broad steps that lead to Jamie’s front door, and the expression on Sawyer’s face was so familiar that Jamie felt like she was remembering a moment they hadn’t yet lived. “I thought a big house was something you always wanted.”
Sawyer lingered on the threshold. “Part of being freelance means having to take jobs all over the country, wherever they are. One of the draws to Ridley is a chance to stay in one place.”
Oh, right. Ridley.
For a while there, she’d forgotten all about the development company. Such a notion would have seemed impossible a few days ago.
But here…now…standing in the very spot where Sawyer had kissed her goodnight countless times before, the proposed Ridley project seemed a million miles away.
His thoughts seemed to be tracking with hers. “How many times have I walked you to this door?” he asked in a voice as soft and tender as a memory.
Then his gaze locked onto hers, and as much as Jamie knew she should look away, she just couldn’t. The lines around his eyes were new, as were the sharp angles of his jawline, but those warm brown irises of his were exactly the same. These were the eyes that had seen her at a time when no one else had. She’d been nothing but a quiet, book-loving dreamer, and he’d brought her out of her shell and shown her that the world could be every bit as colorful and vibrant in reality as it was in the novels she loved so much.
Meeting Sawyer O’Dell had changed her. He’d helped her become the woman she was today, because she’d loved the person he’d seen when he’d looked at her with those eyes—interesting, enchanting.
His.
What would it be like to feel that way again? To be loved and cherished by the only person she’d ever truly wanted to build a life with? To have her heart put back together by the man who’d broken it when he’d been just a boy?
The thought was intoxicating. It made her do things she knew she shouldn’t—like step closer to him so that their breath mingled together in the evergreen air, causing her to smile to herself as his gaze drifted slowly, purposefully to her lips. Her breath hitched as he dipped his head. She’d never wanted a kiss so badly in her life—not even when she’d been sixteen years old and he’d bent toward her in the exact same way for the very first time.
His hand was on her waist and his l
ips were just a whisper away—a heartbeat, a breath, a memory. And Jamie’s heart felt as if it were opening like a favorite book, one whose pages hadn’t been read in a long, long time. She let her eyes drift closed, because she knew this story by heart. The story of Sawyer and Jamie…
The story of us.
But in the sliver of a second before their lips met, someone said Jamie’s name, and the book slammed shut.
“Jamie?”
Her eyes flew open. She and Sawyer blinked at each other, as if they couldn’t quite get their bearings. Then they both turned their heads in the direction of the speaker.
No. Jamie’s stomach tied itself into a knot. It couldn’t be him. What on earth was he doing there?
She bit her bottom lip, still tingling from the missed opportunity. She’d been waiting fifteen years to kiss Sawyer O’Dell again, and apparently, she’d have to wait even longer.
“Matt?”
Chapter Fifteen
Jamie’s head spun. She felt horribly guilty all of a sudden, like she’d just been caught doing something shameful. But she wasn’t even sure whether she should feel bad for almost kissing Sawyer or for the fact that Matt had turned up so unexpectedly and spoiled the moment.
It was all so disorienting—past meets present meets past. The only thing she knew for certain was that Matt Van Horn shouldn’t have been standing in her front yard. He was supposed to be in Texas, wearing a cowboy hat and pulling kids’ teeth. At least that’s how she’d always pictured him whenever he’d crossed her mind since he’d left—which hadn’t been often, especially since Sawyer’s return to Waterford.
But there he was, walking up the steps to her house with his arms spread open wide, as if she was supposed to run right into them mere seconds after she’d been on the verge of kissing another man.
She glanced back and forth between him and Sawyer. “Um…Matt. What are you…?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you.” He stopped at the top of the stairs and cast a fleeting glance at Sawyer before aiming a wide smile in her direction. “To let you know I was coming.”
