Flashing a sheepish smile, I scramble after him. When I reach the top, I pause. The space opens suddenly, and beyond the hardwood floors, the white walls, and an oversized cream sofa, the ocean stretches out in a wide, uninterrupted sweep of blue.
“Wow,” I breathe. “This view is…”
“Pretty damn beautiful?” Sawyer suggests.
Speechless, my eyes wide, I only manage to nod.
“Only the houses up there have me beat.” He flicks a look at the mansion sitting on the cliff. Does he know that’s Luke’s place? “But I decided a long time ago to live a different sort of life.”
“You wanted something simpler?”
He nods. “I used to have a bigger crew and a second trawler, but I got tired of workin’ seven days a week just to be in debt to the bank. My family didn’t approve. My ex…” He puffs out a breath.
I reach out to touch his arm. “Oh, Sawyer. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t feel bad about her. She made her choice, and I’m not sorry she walked out. Everyone treated me like I was fuckin’ crazy when I sold up and moved here.”
“Bravery doesn’t always mean doing more.”
“You get it.” He tilts his head slightly and smiles. “One day, you can tell me the story about how you ended up here.”
My heart drops to my loafers. “Oh.” Does he need to hear that story? The sordid tale of my first genuine love started out strong, but by the time he “made it,” the quiet girl who supported him through the bad times didn’t fit how he wanted to spend the good times. “I, um…”
“Oneday. Hosko.”
I fake a scandalized gasp and press my palm to my cheek. “You didnotjust call me Hosko again.”
He grins. “I might have.”
“But I can’t call you SJ?”
“You can not.”
“What about…Skip?”
“Jesus. No.” He grins. “I’ll grab that shower now. Make yourself at home. I’ve got tea. None of your fancy cups, but you’ll find mugs in the cabinet beside the stove.”
When he disappears from the room, I don’t bother heading to the kitchen. I park my bottom on the sofa, take a deep breath, and close my eyes. There’s a feel to Sawyer’s place. It’s calm. Peace almost hugs the walls. How many minutes pass when I count my breaths? Five? I could sit here all night and never notice time slipping away.
My eyes flutter open and drift around the room. A TV sits in the corner. A guitar is propped beside the shelves lining the side wall, just before a short hallway. No books. He has vinyl records—hundreds of them. I smile. Why didn’t he mention how much he loves music?
“That’s my favorite spot.”
Sawyer wanders in fresh from the shower, rubbing at his damp hair with a towel before slinging it around his shoulders. He’s changed into dark jeans, and with his T-shirt stretched tight across his arms, I notice he has more tattoos. The black outline of an octopus—or something with tentacles—on his forearm isthe one I’ve seen before, but there’s a whole underwater scene that disappears beneath his sleeve.
I shouldn’t stare, but…
Thosearms. Chunky, manly biceps with so many veins. I swallow.
And he notices.
“I haven’t gotten around to finishin’ this one.” He points to the tattoo on his forearm. “I started it in Indonesia.”
“You’ve traveled?”
“Only to Southeast Asia a couple of times. It takes a fuckin’ lifetime to get anywhere from all the way down here.” He cocks his head. “I bet you’ve been to lots of places.”
Every continent. Too many places to name. “I’ve seen a bit of the world.”
