Sawyer stood out on the road between his ranch and Remy’s farm, just at the fork between the two winding driveways. He glanced at his watch, starting to feel a little nervous. He smoothed out the front of his navy dress shirt; he’d deliberately worn his cowboy boots and Stetson just for Remy, because she seemed to like him dressed like that.

He was also flat-out avoiding Merissa and Stacey’s texts and calls. There was only one blonde who had his attention just at this moment, and she was only a stone’s throw away at River Farm. D.C. seemed like a lifetime away.

The fresh bouquet of flowers he was holding felt like a strange weight in his hand. When was the last time he’d apologized to a woman like this? Not even apologizing for being his usual cocky jerk of a self, but instead for inconveniencing a friend.

Where the hell had his balls gone?

To his surprise, Remy was on foot rather than in a car; she came up behind him almost soundlessly, appearing as though from nowhere. Sawyer found himself unduly relieved that Remy had actually shown up to hear his apology.

She was looking sexy as hell in a lilac-colored tank top and denim shorts with her cowboy boots, her long blonde hair twined into two complex-looking braids. She was listening to her iPod as she walked, only pulling the earbuds free when she was a few feet away.

He could hear the twang of country music from her iPod as she turned it off and gave him a speculative look.

“Hey,” he said.

Her lips twitched. “Hey.”

“I am trying to be more respectful of your boundaries,” he said, waving a hand to indicate the distance from her house.

“Oookay,” she said slowly, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“And I wanted to apologize,” he said, holding out the bouquet of flowers.

Remy’s brows arched, but she accepted the flowers, bringing them up to her nose.

“They smell nice,” she said, looking down at them as if unsure what to do with flowers.

“I thought maybe you’d let me take you out for a drive.”

Remy glanced up at him. “Oh, Sawyer… I don’t know.”

“I’m not asking for anything,” he promised. “I just got this bottle of wine, and a blanket…”

“I don’t want to go on a date with you, Sawyer,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s not a date.”

“You sure? It definitely sounds like a date.”

“Get in the car, Remy.”

Her eyes sparked with blue fire at his command, but after a moment she acquiesced. Sawyer didn’t rush around to open her door, knowing that she would balk at him. Instead, he climbed in the car and let silence rule as he drove.

“Where are we going?” she asked at length.

“Swimming hole,” he said, turning off onto an even bumpier country road.

She seemed content with that, turning to put the flowers in the back seat and then staring out the window until they arrived. When they pulled up just short the hard-packed red clay that lined the swimming hole, Sawyer winked at Remy.

“Been a long time since I’ve been out here.”

He didn’t wait to see her blush, though he knew she would. The last time he’d been home, they’d skinny dipped and fucked out here, just as they’d done as teenagers.

Sawyer got out of the car and grabbed a blanket from the backseat, along with a backpack of goodies. He headed straight for the swimming hole, not missing the curious expression on Remy’s face.

She was probably wondering if this was a trick of some sort. She was also likely realizing that he wasn’t falling all over himself to open her door and escort her places, and putting it together that he considered that date behavior.

“Give me a hand with this, will you?” he asked, unfolding the blanket.

“Sure,” she said, still wary as she straightened the thick quilt.

They spread out a good distance from the swimming hole, a spot where Cur Creek slowed and pooled before lazily trickling on. The spot was almost exactly halfway between the Roman and River lands, and it made for a great spot during mild weather.

In thunderstorms, though, the whole area turned into a mass of sucking mud and flash floods. They’d lost untold numbers of livestock over the years, but the pastureland near the water was too good to fence off.

Cur Creek was a perfect symbol of how Sawyer related to the land in his hometown: the water was your friend, as long as you respected it and knew when you were in danger.

He’d taken a lot of that to heart, especially when he was a SEAL.

Sawyer dropped onto the blanket and opened his backpack to produce a couple of plastic cups and a bottle of Cabernet. He opened the wine without production, pouring a little for each of them.

Remy sat across from him, folding her legs up and keeping her back straight. Ever vigilant, that one.

“I haven’t had wine in ages,” Remy murmured, taking an appreciative sniff of the ruby liquid. “It’s all apple juice in our house.”

Sawyer sipped his wine and frowned. “What? Why? I thought your father loved wine.”

Remy’s cheeks colored. “Oh… I mean, he used to. It’s kind of an extravagance now.”

Her words were stilted, making him think she was lying, though why would she lie about something like that?

“So apple juice, huh?” he said, giving her a long look.

“Yep,” she said, looking away.

Something wasn’t right about that, but Sawyer let it go.

“Remember how we used to party out here? Big bonfires, summers where we’d spend the whole afternoon here?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Kids still come down here a lot, just like we used to.”

“Good thing we came on a Tuesday then, huh? I don’t think they’d like us grown-ups breaking up their fun.”

Remy smiled. “It’s weird thinking that we’re the grown-ups now.”

“Well, not entirely grown up. Colt’s decided he’s going to throw a party out here on Saturday, just like when we were kids. He’s invited almost everyone we went to school with.”

“Wow. That’s going to be wild.”

“Yeah. He called it a rager,” Sawyer said, rolling his eyes.

“Your brother really is one of a kind,” Remy said.

“You got that right.”

Sawyer glanced out over the swimming hole, thinking.

“So many memories in this place,” he said.

Remy’s cheeks went pink. “Mmhm.”

“Do you know, Colt and I got into a fist fight the first day I met you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s see. I was in fourth grade, I think.”

“Yeah, I was in kindergarten. Same class as Colt.”

“Yep. And Colt, being the goofy kid he was…”

“Still is.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer said with a grin. “Not that much has changed. Well Colt saw you and ran over to me at recess. Told me he had the prettiest girl in the world in his class.”

Remy’s mouth formed a little O. “What?”

“Oh, yeah. Love at first sight, you know?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. So he pointed you out, and I took one look at you… All those freckles and blonde hair…”

“Oh, I was so awkward,” she said.

“Nah, you were cute.”

“Pffft.” She flapped a hand.

“Anyway, I looked at you and then at Colt, and I said that you were going to be my girlfriend.”

“Seriously?” Remy asked, red as a beet. “I don’t remember any of this!”

“Oh, yeah. And Colt punched me.”

“What!?” Remy asked, cracking up.

“Right in the face. Gave me a black eye.”

“He didn’t!”

“He did.”

“That’s insane.”

“Well, lucky for me, he fell in love with Mary Ellen Cartwright two days later, and you were a free agent.”

“I was a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, but I never forgot about what I said,” Sawyer said. “I knew you were going to grow up to be something spectacular, and you did.”

“Are you kidding? I’m still awkward, and I never got out of Catahoula.”

“I’ve been all over the world, and I’ve hardly met anyone as smart as you.”

Remy pursed her lips, giving him a disbelieving sort of look, and sipped her wine.

“Was that too much?” Sawyer asked.

“A little.”

Sawyer laughed. “All right. Well, if you think you got stuck here, where did you hope you’d be now?”

Remy put down her wine and stretched.

“I don’t know. Teaching somewhere, maybe.”

“Yeah, you always did like kids a lot.”

She glanced at him, eyes bright, but only nodded.

“I thought I would get out of Louisiana, at least,” she said.

“You’re still young. Nothing’s stopping you.”

“I went to community college 20 miles from here,” she sighed. “I’m not qualified to do much of anything.”

“You’re an accountant for your father and a bartender in town. That’s more than most people have going for themselves.”

“You have a different view of me than other people do, I think.”

“I really, genuinely hope so,” he said, a smile spreading over his face. “I hope no one else is thinking what I’m thinking every time I look at you.”

He let his eyes drift down her body, making sure she understood his meaning.

“You’re terrible,” she said, but she laughed.

“Seriously, though. What’s keeping you here? Family?”

She went a little pale. “Yeah.”

Sawyer moved closer to her, under the guise of digging through his backpack. He produced a small speaker, then paired up his phone. After a minute of configuring, he was satisfied when 90s country music drifted out.

“Oooooh, Garth Brooks,” Remy said, wiggling her eyebrows. “This is a classic.”

She surprised him by grabbing the wine bottle and refilling both their cups, then knocking most of her cup back in two big gulps.

“Thirsty?” he asked.

She chuckled. “I don’t get a lot of time to hang out and be an adult. I figured I should enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean. Being at home with Colt and Walker is making me feel like a kid again, too,” Sawyer said.

She colored a little, but nodded. “Yeah.”

“So… if this plan works, and your farm starts to float again…” he said.

Remy raised a brow. “I hope so.”

“Then it will free you up to do whatever you want.”

Something dark flashed across her face.

“No, Sawyer. I’m not you. I have obligations, permanent ones.”

“So that’s it? This is your plan?”

“You’re awfully worried about my future.”

“Well, I’m just making conversation. I was just curious. Do you want to move away, like out of Louisiana?”

“No, I think I’m past that now.”

“You’re not past anything, Remy. I don’t know why you keep saying that.”

She bit her lip and glanced away. “I think I’d like to live off the farm. An apartment in town or something, a place of my own. That’s all I meant by it.”

“Maybe once the farm is afloat again, you can do that.”

Her lashes came down to hide those beautiful blue eyes. Whatever she was thinking, she obviously didn’t want Sawyer reading it in her eyes.

“I don’t have a lot of choices. You and your brothers… you have money and freedom. Me, I have ties that bind.”

Sawyer noticed that she leaned a little closer to him now, smiled a little more. She certainly wasn’t drunk, but she did seem relaxed.

When he reached out and touched the tip of one of her blonde braids, she bit her lip and flushed. He thought of their kiss a few days past, how hungry she’d been for his touch.

All he wanted in the world right now was to stroke her curves, hear that soft sound she made when he did something she liked. He felt his brain sliding into the gutter, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Maybe my family has more money and less love to go around than yours, but I still don’t see what’s holding you back from anything,” he said, brushing the braid back over her shoulder.

When she didn’t resist, he trailed his thumb over her collarbone, watched her eyes drift shut and heard her breathing go ragged.

Yes, she wanted him. A part of her did, at least. Every single time Sawyer touched her, she went up in flames. Hadn’t it always been just that way between them?

He wanted to kiss her perfect, pouty lips. He wanted to shred her clothes, run his tongue over every inch of her body, make her scream his name while she came harder than she ever had.

Instead, he pulled her close and placed a single burning-hot kiss on the graceful curve of her neck.

“Sawyer…” she said, and shivered.

He could see her nipples harden through the thin cotton of her tank top. Her body responded to him, no matter what her brain might want.

Her eyes were still closed, her breaths coming fast. Sawyer ran his fingertip down the plump line of her cleavage, curious to see how she’d respond.

She shivered again, but she was silent.

“Remy…” he whispered.

“Mmm,” was all she gave him.

He tipped her chin back and gave her a soft kiss. She made that sound, that quiet pleading sound he loved so much, her hand coming up to grip at the shoulder of his t-shirt.

Wine forgotten, Sawyer slowly leaned back on the blanket, taking Remy with him. He didn’t want to scare her, so he pulled her atop his body instead of trapping her beneath his own.

She moaned against his lips, moving to straddle his hips, breaking their kiss to tease his earlobe with her tongue. Sawyer gripped the round globes of her ass, guiding her to gently rock her hips against his.

He shifted them both until the seam of Remy’s jeans pressed directly over his, and when she felt the full force of his hard cock, her eyes flew open in surprise.

Not ready to give her time for second-guessing, Sawyer drew her back to his lips for a kiss, pulling the straps of her tank down her shoulders.

He glanced up at her, breaking the kiss, and then slowly bared her breasts. They were magnificent, high and full and heavy in his hands.

Sawyer drew her down and took one of her nipples in his mouth. In an instant, she was crying out, her fingers gripping his hair.

He chuckled against her, flicking his tongue over the hard nub as she arched her back, needy moans escaping her lips.

Sawyer couldn’t help himself. He flipped her over onto her back, turning his attention to her other breast when she made a sound of protest.

When she was moaning and writhing under him, he pulled back a few inches.

“I’m going to make you come,” he told her, watching her intently.

“Sawyer—” she started, her brow puckering.

“Just let me make you feel good, Remy. I think you need it.”

He tugged her tank top up over her head and she let him, but she still looked worried. He kissed the space between her breasts, then the spot above her navel, moving down her body.

“Sawyer!” she squeaked, though she didn’t stop him.

“Mmmm, I didn’t do enough of this when we were together,” he said, kissing her hip bone as he unbuttoned her shorts.

When he kissed the skin he’d bared there, she bit her lip and nodded.

Grinning, Sawyer stripped off her boots and shorts, making her squeak again. Her body was a little different than he remembered, little silvery lines stretching across her skin in some places, but that was common in the women he’d known.

Ignoring her protests, he parted her thighs and leaned down, running his tongue along her glistening slit.

“Mmmm, you’re wet for me,” he murmured.

She went all tense at the first touch of his tongue, holding her breath, uncertain. He explored her with gentle strokes of his fingers and tongue, bringing her right to the edge so fast it nearly made his head spin.

Every soft cry, every subtle rock of her hips, asking for more… he didn’t want it to be over so soon. Remy was whispering his name, her need so obvious that he couldn’t put her off any longer.

He slid two fingers deep inside her as he coaxed her with his tongue, building and building the momentum. Remy shattered against his tongue and fingers with a cry, her body shaking hard as she shouted his name to the sky.

He withdrew his fingers and kissed her inner thigh, giving her a moment to recover. When he moved back up to kiss her lips again, there was something there…

If he pushed, she would probably give herself to him. He saw it there in her eyes, some kind of resignation.

Giving her a soft smile and a shake of his head, Sawyer began to dress her.

“What…” she started, then stopped and shook her own head, mimicking him.

Once she was dressed, Sawyer picked up his wine and took a sip. He pulled a face; it was a little bitter, after all the sweeter places his tongue had just explored.

“What?” she asked, giving him a look.

“Nothing, just… the wine doesn’t quite taste as good as you do.”

Remy looked scandalized. “Sawyer!”

“You asked.”

She blew out a breath and picked up her own cup of wine, draining the contents.

“The wine’s perfectly fine.”

Sawyer cocked a brow, enjoying her embarrassed flush. He sipped his wine, looking out at the growing early evening shadows.

“Are you really going to stay?” Remy asked out of the blue.

“Hmm?”

“You told Micah you were going to stay in Catahoula.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I think we’re really going to try.”

“I think you’re crazy. If I could, I would keep a house here and just… travel. All over,” she said dreamily, sitting up and propping her head on her knees.

“I think I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime,” he said. Though he didn’t mean it to, a note of bitterness crept into his voice.

“Right,” Remy said, shaking her head. “Of course.”

“Sorry. I’m not trying to unload on you, I did enough of that the other night,” Sawyer said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t, really.”

“Well… I’ve forgiven you,” she said, her lips curling up at the corners.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, unable to hide his grin. “That’s very nice of you.”

“Mmmhm.” She wrinkled her nose. “So what do you want for yourself?”

“In the future, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

He glanced at her, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Right now, I’m just trying to get the ranch back to its former glory. After that… I don’t know. A house in town? A wife, maybe kids? I’m pretty sure that’s the expected thing.”

Remy’s face went a little white. “You think you’ll get married and have kids?”

Sawyer frowned. “Yeah, eventually.”

She looked down, her lips pressing into a thin white line.

“What?” he asked, giving her a look. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“No,” she said quickly. She moved, getting to her feet.

“Seriously? What did I do wrong?” he asked, his stomach sinking.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing now, or nothing in the past?”

Her blue gaze seared him for a long moment. She exhaled slowly.

“I’m going to go home now.”

“You’re going to walk?” he asked, scowling.

“Yeah. It’s not that far from here,” she said, clearing her throat. “Thanks for the, uh… wine.”

“Remy…”

She paused, waiting.

“Give me another chance. Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll give it to you.”

She canted her head, expression regretful. “That’s the thing, Sawyer. You think it’s all in the past, but it’s not.”

“Remy, wait—” He tried to stop her, but she’d already turned and started off toward the creek. Her hike would be at least half a mile of vicious incline, all in wild brambles and thorns.

“At least let me drive you home!” he called.

She didn’t slow or even acknowledge him, disappearing from sight in a moment’s time.

Sawyer stared down at the rumpled picnic blanket, thinking over her words.

You think it’s all in the past, but it’s not.

What in the hell could that possibly mean?