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“What am I supposed to do if I think I want to play but I’m not sure how?” She peers up at me through her long, inky lashes, and my heart hammers against my chest.
“What do you mean?” I push, needing to know where her head’s at.
Her warm palms flatten against my abs before she drops her forehead to my chest. “I’m really good at work, Sawyer. I excel there. I know what I’m doing there. Relationships. Friendships. Fun. None of that comes easily to me. It’s not that I don’t want those things. I just don’t know how to get out of my own head long enough to try.”
I lift her chin and gently press my lips to hers.
Scared if I push too hard or too fast, she’ll bolt.
But Wren doesn’t bolt. She opens to me, slowly melting against me.
“Then let me help you.” I look into her eyes and ask, “Do you trust me?”
WREN
Do I trust him?
CanI trust him?
Sawyer’s blue eyes remind me of a storm raging over the ocean.
Powerful and beautiful. Threatening to pull me under and steal my breath.
Trusting him... truly trusting him completely and without question. I think I can. I might already, but I’m not sure. I’m torn in a million different directions by a riot of emotions, and they all leave me confused and unsettled—not words I like to use when describing myself. Ever. Which leaves me with only one option, if I’m being honest. “I’m trying, Kingston.”
“We’re going to work on that, Red.” He caresses my face, comforting me, and I wonder again how we got here. We were rivals our entire lives. But it was always fun to challenge each other. That was all before the accident. The one that wasn’t his fault.
As if reading my mind, Sawyer stands and takes a step back, pulling me up from my seat. He links his fingers through mine, then tugs me behind him into the living room, where a fire is roaring in a beautiful, stacked-stone fireplace in the center of the room. A wall of windows overlooks the dark lake, and sheets of water fall off in the distance as a storm rolls in.
It’s peaceful and calming, two things that have definitely been lacking today.
Sawyer guides me to an oversized leather sectional. “Sit here and get comfy.” Grabbing a soft blanket off the back of the couch, he wraps it around me. “I’ll be back in a second.” His lips ghost over mine, and I give myself up to him.
Willing to try.
“Hey, Kingston,” I call out as he walks away.
Sawyer turns back around, and the look on his face is so freaking delicious. A black Henley is stretched over his broad chest, and soft, well-worn jeans hang from lean hips. And as if he knew the effect it would have on me, the man is barefoot. I’m not sure why the whole look is so intoxicating, but it definitely is. “Don’t forget the wine,” I add, and he smiles.
Just smiles and heads out of the room.
Meanwhile, I fold my legs up on the couch and adjust the blanket.
When he comes back in the room, he’s got two glasses and a bottle of wine in one hand, and a pink bakery box of cupcakes in the other. “Wow, Kingston. That’s impressive. If King Investments doesn’t work out, you could always be a server at Kingdom.”
“Ha ha,” he laughs. “You act like I haven’t done that over the years.” He carefully balances the glasses as he places the cupcakes and wine down on a wooden tray on top of the ottoman. Then he hands me a pretty pink confection and runs a finger through the frosting before he sits down next to me and turns on the TV. “How about we watch a family who’s more dysfunctional than either of ours are?”
And that’s how I spend my night.
Sandwiched between my sworn enemy and his slobbery dog, binge-watching old episodes ofSchitt’s Creek. Drinking way too much wine and completely avoiding reality.
Hours later, when the second bottle is empty, and I’ve enjoyed more sugar in one night than I typically would in a week, the flames of the fire are dying down, and the snow has started to fall. I’m warm and sleepy and a little bit drunk. I’m also happily tucked against Sawyer, with my head resting on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around my back.
Something about this whole night is more intimate than any amount of time I’ve ever spent with this man.
Instead of letting that thought scare me, I settle my heart and remind myself to breathe.
“I should really go home.” I yawn and tip my face up to Sawyer’s.
