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“You were lucky to be able to take so much time off work,” she said and took a mouthful. “Sawyer, my God, this sauce is so good.”
The red wine sauce was tangy, rich and beautifully done even if there wasn’t quite enough of it.
He gave her a depreciate smile. “I’m no chef but the few dishes I can make, I’m pretty good at.”
“Is this what you do? Cook?”
Sawyer chuckled. “No. I’m a writer.”
“A writer? But you didn’t even like English at school.”
Inwardly, she cringed. Why did every word out of mouth sound like an insult? The truth was, she was struggling to connect old Sawyer and new Sawyer. All that joined them right now was devastating good looks and a way of drawing her in that made her feel like she was drowning—willingly.
“I got into it when I moved to London. I was at a loose end for a while, working as a waiter and I passed the time by writing.”
“So would I know any of your articles?”
His top lip curled slightly. “Not likely.”
“Oh. But you must be doing okay to be able to take time off?”
Was that rude too? She resisted the need to do a face palm. Had she just outright asked him how much he earned? It wasn’t as if she needed to worry now. The shop didn’t earn much but her lottery winnings would help if she was savvy with them. Besides, he’d said he could afford to renovate the house so he had to be doing quite well for himself.
“I’m sorry—” she started, but he held up a palm.
“I guess you want to know if I’m capable of looking after you.”
“Oh no, that’s not why I—”
Sawyer’s smile grew soft. “I can look after you, Maddie, don’t worry.”
Look after her? That wasn’t why she wanted a man. She was the nurturer. She wanted someone to look after, she suspected, not the other way around. She might not seem the bold, independent type but she’d been running her own business for nearly five years now and certainly didn’t expect a man to pay her way.
“I don’t need to be looked after,” she replied primly.
“Lots of people don’tneedto be looked after.” He took a sip of wine, placed the glass down and eyed her intently. “I know you don’t need to be. You never have. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to though. And it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be occasionally.”
Her insides did something strange then. Maybe they turned to mush or flipped inside out. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that, suddenly, the idea of Sawyer looking after her was far too appealing. But that would make her so very vulnerable to him again...
Who was she kidding? She was already vulnerable. He was too charming for his own good.
Or for hers.
She cleared her throat and concentrated on finishing the meal. Somehow she managed to turn the conversation back to the house and the work that would need to be done. Determined to keep the period features of the house, she managed to talk him out of modernising it too much. Like a typical man, he wanted clean lines and modern fireplaces.
“We have to keep the cornicing and the fireplaces,” she told him.
“The fireplaces are awful.”
“Yes, but they’ll look great after renovation. And it’s what people like here. If house buyers wanted modern, they’d buy somewhere else. People come to Ballicliff because they want traditional.”
He studied her for a moment then began stacking up the plates. She went to help but he motioned to her to sit down.
“You’re not going to argue with me?”
Placing the plates on the side, he faced her. “You always were stubborn. I learned long ago to go with whatever you said.”
“You make me sound horrible.”
