Chapter Fourteen
What is it with you, the frying pan, and the fire? He’d been around her less than twenty minutes, and every single one of the carefully constructed reasons he’d come up with for why he should ignore every last thing his closest friend had asked him to think about went, poof, right out the window. Dammit, Seth!
Sunny stared up into his eyes, her lips parted on a soft intake of breath, her own eyes unreadable in the encroaching darkness. “You . . . meaning what?”
“I don’t know exactly,” he said. “I’m not asking for—hell, I don’t know what I’m asking or not asking.” He raked his hand through damp hair, wishing like hell he could climb out of the rest of the damn wolf suit. Wishing like hell he could peel her out of that ridiculously chaste Bo Peep outfit, which still managed to turn him on. He was pretty sure she could wear a cloth sack and he’d still be raging hard. “I didn’t plan on saying that. In fact, I’ve spent the past two weeks coming up with a long list of very good, very rationally thought out reasons why I should just leave it alone. Leave you alone. That’s why I didn’t contact you. I was trying to do what I thought was the right thing. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.” He looked up at the sky, as if there would be some kind of answer written in the stars, wishing the universe would just spell it all out for him. He looked back to her. “I didn’t plan on you.”
“So you’ve said.”
There was a trace of pique in her voice, which snapped him out of his fugue state and put him squarely back in the moment. “When I’m not around you, I can—most of the time—find my way to thinking we made the right call. Okay, maybe ‘most’ is a stretch.” His attempt at humor didn’t make her smile. But then he hadn’t been smiling when he’d said it. “Then I’m with you again, and I think only an idiot wouldn’t do everything in his power to figure out how to make this work.” He lifted his hands in the same helpless gesture she had just moments ago, then let them fall back to his sides. It was that or put them on her shoulders and tug her close, find out if less talking and more kissing would get them any closer to a solution.
When she still said nothing, he understood her plea for him to simply spit out what he was thinking. Now that he had, however, he realized that maybe she wasn’t having the same difficulty ignoring the connection between them. Hadn’t she just said she’d come back to find out how she could still fit in here without pursuing the thing between them? Had his pulse been thundering so loudly in his ears as he’d willed himself not to do what he’d wanted to do for pretty much every breathing, waking moment since she’d driven that damn car of hers out of the Hollow the last time that he couldn’t clearly hear her rejecting this very thing?
Now he did laugh, but the joke was on him. “Be careful what you ask for, right? You asked me to tell you what I was thinking.” He shook his head, wished he could find real humor in the situation. “I wish it was something easier. But we’ve been honest with each other this far.”
She finally broke eye contact, and looked away. He saw her take in a slow, steadying breath. Heard her let it go, in a measured release. “I appreciate that,” she said.
And with those oh-so-politely spoken three words, he felt like he’d just taken a bullet to the gut.
How had he let himself get into this situation, anyway? Twisting himself up like a pretzel for days on end, then pouring his heart out like a lovesick idiot. Damn you, Seth, for making me think this was doable. Only he knew the blame could only be laid at his own feet. Still, he might think twice before spilling his guts ever again. To anyone.
“Addie told me you were asked to do a special demonstration,” he said, searching now for a toehold. They had to dig their way out of this hole. Or he did, anyway. “Congratulations on that. And something about getting a research paper published? I’m sure it was well earned.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, almost absently, as if her thoughts hadn’t quite made the shift to the new topic. She blinked then, and seemed to shake herself loose from wherever her thoughts had taken her. “I, uh, it’s something I’ve worked toward for a long time. So, yes, it’s . . . it’s gratifying.”
“That’s good. Great.” Silence followed. It was the first time the easy flow of conversation had ever stuttered between them, and that wasn’t how he wanted to leave it. She was right; she had a right to be here, to find her place here, with Bailey, most definitely, but with Addie, too, and anyone else she chose to include in her new, widening life circle. He shouldn’t be making that harder for her.
“You know,” she said, quite suddenly, “I think”—she looked around, as if just now realizing how far they’d walked from where she’d parked—“I’m going to go. You know?” She smiled, seeming almost relieved. “That’s probably for the best. I should have waited longer. Maybe. More time. We’ll just—I mean, it was good, that we talked. Your candor—I—”
“Sunny.”
She turned to go then, and his hand was on her arm before he could think better of it. The incongruity of the wolf paw dangling from his wrist and the gingham-bow-tied shepherd’s hook in her hand should have been funny, but it wasn’t any more surreal than any other part of this night.
She stopped, but didn’t look back at him. “Could you, ah, could you tell Bailey I’m sorry I had to cut out?” Her voice was a little throatier now. “I’ll call her. I should do that anyway. Addie’s been asking me to. But I didn’t know what to say. Now, with the lamb . . . I guess we have a place to start.” She was rambling, talking too fast, sounding a little desperate.
He should let her go. But how would that solve anything? “I’m sorry, Sunny. I made this harder. I’m not sorry I was honest, because I think we should always know where we stand. But I don’t want to make it more challenging for you to figure out how to fit Blue Hollow Falls into your life. And I definitely don’t want to stand in the way of you and Bailey getting to know each other better. You went a long way toward that tonight. Seth was right about her. She’s stronger and definitely braver than the rest of us. She sits back, stays quiet, looks at everything, but when she decides to leap, she leaps. I’m sure her coming to see you will bring the two of you that much closer.”
Sunny nodded, but still didn’t look at him. “Thanks,” she said, and there was a bit of a rough quality to her voice. “I hope so, too.”
“I won’t get in the way of that. I heard you, loud and clear. Life goes on. We’ll each move on with it. I’m . . . it’s all okay, Sunny. We’ve started a solid friendship here, you and I. They don’t roll around that often, so that means something to me.” His hand tightened slightly on her arm in an effort to transmit his sincerity. “I hope at some point it won’t be weird. For us, and for everyone else’s sake.”
She swore under her breath. And if that wasn’t shocking enough, she spun on him then, and shocked him a whole lot further by letting her shepherd’s hook clatter to the ground as she stepped right up into his personal space and grabbed his face between her two hands. “That would be a heck of a lot easier if you’d stop being so damn perfect for me.” Then she kissed him.
His hands had fallen limply to his sides at her sudden burst of action. But they moved even before his brain could process what had just happened. His body didn’t need to process anything. It knew just what the hell it wanted to do.
He slid one hand around her back, one behind her head, and hauled her right up against his body. Then he kissed her right back. Whenever his brain caught up, he could examine the wisdom of doing that. But in the meantime, he was going to kiss her. And be kissed by her. And he was going to enjoy every last damn moment of it.
There was no talking, no more words said. Their bodies seemed to have absolutely no problem finding a way to communicate. Because all those words they’d just used apparently amounted to nothing in the face of this.
It started like a rabid hunger, like they’d better hurry up and get, give, everything they could, before rational thought bullied its way back in again and ended it. When that didn’t happen, the kiss gentled and deepened. Her hands were still on his cheeks, but her fingertips relaxed, and then they moved, explored, and finally slid around the back of his neck to hold on, as he opened her mouth and took his time taking every last part of it.
There were no words, but there were gasps, and moans. Breaths were caught, groans vibrated in throats. There might have been a growl. And it might not have been his. But it could have been.
His rampaging heart slowed, then steadied . . . then swelled as the kiss shifted again, to one of caretaking, of nurturing, sliding them both closer and closer to the edge of that slippery slope, where they teetered, and teetered further, so close, so close to the precipice . . . in danger of tipping over. At least he was. Or maybe he’d already gone over, standing under the stars by his cabin, and he’d simply refused to acknowledge it then.
But his heart knew, even if his brain remained stubbornly fixated on what was rational. His heart knew.
They were ultimately interrupted by the glare of headlights as a car came over the rise. They broke apart, but he continued to hold her as they stepped off the road into the gravel and grass. The car braked when they were caught in the headlights, then rolled slowly forward, coming to a stop beside them. The window lowered. Will tipped his head, smiled briefly. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t being attacked by the local wildlife, ma’am.”
Sawyer’s smile was equally sardonic. “Wilson McCall, this is Sunny Goodwin.” He saw Will’s son in the passenger seat and lifted a hand. “I believe you met his son, Jake, when you first came up here.” He’d purposely blocked her from their view, giving her a moment to collect herself, smooth her hair, whatever was needed.
She stepped beside him now, all smiles, and lifted a hand in a short wave. She took in Will’s costume, from the western hat to the badge pinned to his shirt, and said, “Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff McCall.” She noted Jake’s costume, and nodded, “Deputy Jake.” The boy nodded, smiled shyly. “Thanks for the assist,” she told Will. “But Bo Peep is pretty good at corralling wild animals. I’m fine.”
“So I saw.” Will smiled again, tipped his head with a short salute. “Enjoy your evening, ma’am,” he said, in keeping with his character. He raised the window and they slowly rolled on toward the mill.
“Kind of quiet, like his son,” Sunny said.
“Pretty much. But the man has a magic eye when it comes to putting rocks together. And you’ll never meet anyone who works harder. His son seems to be more of the same.”
“Jake’s mom?” she asked. “Divorce?”
“No, she passed away when he was little. Will’s mom helped out, then left them her property here when she passed. They moved to the Hollow full time not all that long ago.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. About his wife, Jake’s mom, I mean. And Will’s mother, too. That’s a lot,” she added, softly.
“I’m pretty sure that’s just the tip of it,” Sawyer said. When Sunny lifted a questioning gaze to him, he added, “I’m pretty sure he served. Not sure which branch, or where, or for how long, but . . .”
She put her hand on his arm. “It’s good you’re looking out for him. If anyone knows how, it would be you. Does Seth, is he—?”
“Looking out for Will? We haven’t spoken about it. I wouldn’t be surprised, though. Or did you mean is Seth having issues from his time in?”
“The former, but both,” she said, “now that you mention it. He seems pretty well adjusted—Seth, I mean. He talked to me briefly about his family back in Seattle. Sounds like they were pretty tight-knit.”
Sawyer smiled at that. “Maybe too much so. He’s one of six kids.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Where does he fall?”
“Right in the middle. One older brother, one older sister, three younger sisters. Bunch of nieces and nephews toddling around. Mostly nieces. His mom and dad own a good old-fashioned Irish pub. I think his mom also has like three sisters. So there are a bunch of cousins. They all live near each other, from what I understand.”
“I feel a little claustrophobic just imagining it,” she said with a laugh. “He said they all support his being out here, doing what he wants to do, so that’s a good thing.”
“Oh, I’m sure if he decided to go run a winery out there, they’d be on the next flight to help him pack and move. His mom might not be completely understanding about him needing to grow grapes in Virginia, when she thinks he could have a perfectly good vineyard in Washington State. But his dad gets it.”
“His dad sounds like he’s surrounded by a whole lot of women,” Sunny said with a laugh. “It’s probably more likely he’d hop the next flight to come help his son here, just to get away for a bit.”
Sawyer chuckled. “You’re probably not far off on that. But to answer your other question, I think he’s got himself straight. It’s for him to say, not me. But that’s part of why I encouraged him to come here, give it a go. He grew up in a big family full of very strong opinions. He went into the military because he wanted to serve his country, but also maybe because he wanted the order and regiment of it all, to cut through all the confusion of so many voices and find some focus. Afterward, I think he needed a clear drawing board, if you know what I mean. The autonomy to create his own space, put his own plans into action, without a lot of interference. He loves his family, they are very close, don’t get me wrong—”
“No, I know what you’re saying. He needed a place to breathe. He said you were a good friend, and he owes you a lot, for what you did for him.”
They turned back to the mill and started walking again. Sawyer let out a short laugh. “I think he’s gone into the wrong field. Sounds like he should have been a therapist.”
She laughed with him. “After growing up in that huge extended family, I’m betting it was either be something of a therapist, or end up needing one.” They continued walking, and she said, “So, you’re not upset with him? For . . . well, for all of this? You know he meant well.”
“I know,” Sawyer said, recognizing they were going to have to address what they’d been doing back there, before Will’s arrival had put an end to it. He’d rather not, though. He was tired of talking about it. He’d rather just . . . go with it. “We’re fine. Even when he was under my command, he was always finding a way to do an end run, to get things going the way he saw them.” He smiled. “So this shouldn’t really have surprised me.”
She shared his smile, nodded, but didn’t say anything more.
She wasn’t putting up any walls, or making any rash explanations, or worse, apologies, for planting that kiss on him. Or for staying in it when it had continued on, and turned into something else entirely. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t when she’d had time to think about it more. So he opted to do an end run of his own.
“I started work on the cabin,” he told her.
Surprised, she said, “In all your spare time?” She laughed a little incredulously. “When do you sleep?”
He could have told her that sleep hadn’t exactly been that easy to come by since they’d last parted ways, and work had given him an outlet. One where he could swing hammers and bang on things without anyone noticing, or offering unsolicited advice. Instead, he told her a different part of the truth. “It didn’t take us as long to get the interior of the mill repaired and up to code. We ended up with some extra help and the frame out happened pretty fast.”
“Ah, you lost your indoor camping facility.”
“Something like that.”
“I should have put that together with all the photos Addie has been sending me. I didn’t even think about it. So . . . are you staying out at the cabin now? Does that mean you’re able to salvage it?”
“I’ve had some tests run, inspections done, and yes, looks so. The roof needs to be entirely replaced. I’ve already had treatments done on the log frame, to protect it from wood-boring beetles and termites. That was the thing I thought would make or break it, but apparently Sol had been pretty good about maintaining that part. The logs were in surprisingly better shape than I thought they’d be. A good chunk of the interior flooring has to be replaced from water damage due to the leaky roof, but I’ve already torn up and replaced most of it, though I haven’t sanded or stained and sealed it yet. The even bigger relief was that there weren’t any of the mold issues I’d been afraid of. Tearing out the flooring took care of the little bit there was. The porch needs a lot of work. Will probably be easier and cheaper to just replace it. Same with the awning over it. The seals on the windows are shot, so those will come out. New triple panes are already on order. The wood-burning stove still works, but I’ll put in a newer, more efficient model. And the list goes on. But yeah, it’s all doable. And it honestly won’t take all that long. Compared to everything we’ve done at the mill, it will be a cake walk.”
“I’m really happy to hear that. It sounds like an exhausting amount of work, though, especially on top of everything else you’re doing. And you have your brewery to start installing, too, at some point.” She shook her head. “It’s a lot.”
“It is, but it’s all good stuff. I don’t mind the hard work. It’s gratifying, seeing the place come together. There is no deadline, really, other than those dictated by the weather.”
“Oh, I didn’t think about that. Will you be able to get the roof done on the cabin before the snow starts?”
He nodded. “I’m sticking with the tin panels, so it’s a relatively easy job. Not like attaching all those shingles. I’ve got it tarp covered for now, but that’s the next order of business, as soon as the panels come in. Will is going to work on the stone foundation and the chimney. I’d like to get the stove replaced sooner than later. But the porch, and the planned additions on the back I told you about, those will have to wait until next spring most likely. And that’s okay. I’ll have my hands full enough with the mill. Our aim is to take the winter months to get the interior done, get all of us moved in; then come spring, we’ll formally launch the place. Probably April, but nothing is set in stone yet. So I have time to work on both.”
Sunny paused and turned to him. “You sound excited. Happy.” She looked up into his eyes. “That’s a really, really good thing. I’m glad for you.”
He knew there was a “but” coming, only this time he didn’t sit back and wait for it. “Let’s go in,” he said, nodding toward the mill, which was just a handful of yards away now. “Enjoy the party. I’ll introduce you to everyone you haven’t met yet. Then I’d like to take you up to the cabin.” He stepped in closer, until her chin tipped up so her gaze could lock with his. “The sunrises there are almost as breathtaking as the moonrises.” Now he did wait, and his heart might have sped up a little. He tried not to think about what life would be like if he didn’t find some way to keep her there. He shut that track down, because down that path lay rational thought and no easy solutions. Her life—the one she was just as happy about, just as excited about—wasn’t here.
He waited for her to say all of those things. His heart might have stopped beating altogether when she tipped up on her toes and kissed him, and very softly said, “I think I’d like to see that. Very much.”