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“Yes,” she said. “And my shoes. You didn’t comment on them.”
“The last thing I was looking at,” he said, “other than the whole package was a sexy one. If I knew what was underneath I might not have lasted through dinner.”
He moved past her into the bathroom to her laughter, took care of the condom and returned.
She was pulling his clothes out of his bag and tossing them to him. He caught the jeans with one hand. “You should leave a few things here,” she said. “If you want. If you don’t, that is fine.”
“I could do that,” he said, even though he’d never done that with another woman before.
“No pressure. You look like you’re unsure. It was only a comment more than anything.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “It really is.”
He could tell she didn’t believe him and he wasn’t so sure he believed the words out of his mouth either. No reason to get into it right now though.
“Whatever,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m good either way. It’s only saving you a step packing, not making much of a difference to me.”
He nodded his head and changed. She put leggings and a cotton shirt on and they went downstairs.
Once they were on the couch, he said, “So do I tell my grandmother the date went well?”
He turned to look at her—her face was beet red. “As long as you don’t tell her I put out on the first date.”
“Damn,” he said. “That was the best part of it.”
She pinched his arm playfully, and Fred jumped up after barking again and planted his butt between the two of them.
“At least I can tell my Aunt Jolene that Fred likes you.”
“Fred thinks I’m great,” he said, rubbing the dog’s face.
Fred barked. “He might not be the only one in the house thinking that tonight,” she said.
Sawyer knew she was talking about sex and should be happy it wasn’t more, as he hated to be pressured, but then why was he a little hurt that it wasn’t?
27
Calm Place
“Sawyer,” his grandmother said to him the following Sunday. “I’m so glad you were able to find the time for dinner.”
She’d asked him to come over for Sunday dinner and since she’d left him alone for the week knowing he’d had the date with Faith, the least he could do was comply.
“I’m always up for a home-cooked meal,” he said.
“I knew that,” his grandmother said. “I’m making manicotti and there will be plenty for you to take home.”
“Yum,” he said. It was one of his favorite meals as a kid. His grandmother used to make it when he was struggling in his teen years.
Not that he had to say much to her about it, it was more like she knew. She did teach high school English for years and probably could read the kids well.
“Your grandmother wants to know how your date went,” his grandfather said when he went into the family room. “I gave her hell for the way she went about things.”
Sawyer was watching the two of them like he often did. They didn’t fight like his parents did. They didn’t argue or bicker like his other grandparents did.
Maybe that was why he liked being here so much. It was a calm place in his life when he didn’t feel like he had many places like that.
“She did what she thought she needed to do,” he said. “Even though I’ve said more than once I don’t need to be set up.”
