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“Friends my ass,” she scoffed. “You agreed to go with him to Whisper Falls, a place, by the way, localsalsokeep a secret because tourists back in the day were also using it as a nookie spot. It’s incredibly romantic.”
“It’s only romantic if you’re going with that in mind. Trent and I aren’t. I’m just showing him a bit of what makes this town so awesome. I’m not interested in him anymore.”
“Oh yeah? Is that why you looked at him all moony-faced every time you saw him playing with Renee? Granted, I’ll give you that, it was hot. I mean, that big mountain of a man putting that little nugget on his shoulders would get any lady engine running.”
“Look, he made it clear where things stood between us, and I respect that. Unlike you, I don’t need to climb every sexy man who crosses my path like a tree.”
She pointed her finger at me. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. Climbing those trees is a great form of exercise. Better than cardio.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said on a laugh.
“Maybe. But the truth is, it’s a wonder you didn’t get knocked up with all the eye-banging you guys did today. You take him to Whisper Falls, something is definitely going to happen.”
I flopped back into the cushions, pressing my shoulders deeper as I crossed my arms and began to sulk. “No it’s not. I have tremendous self-control.”
“If you say so,” she said in a sing-song voice.
I pushed to my feet, refusing to indulge in her childishness for another second. “I do say so. Now, are you staying here tonight or not?”
“Too tired to get to my car,” she muttered, closing her eyes.
“Fine. I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.”
I stomped to the hall closet as she began singing, “Trent and Sawyer, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g...”
She was lucky I didn’t smother her with the pillow.
Chapter Sixteen
Trent
In the daysthat had passed since Renee’s birthday party, I’d gone back on nearly everything I’d told myself I had to do. I no longer gave a shit about keeping my distance or making sure that the line between Sawyer and me remained clear and visible.
I was no longer driven by that moral compass I tried so fucking hard to follow, that sense of responsibility to those around me, of loyalty to the people I cared most about.
It wasn’t about any of that. It was about my need to be close to her, about not trusting anyone else to keep her or Renee as safe as I could keep them. I knew the risks of what I was doing. But just five minutes with her made it all worth it. I’d never felt this way before, and as fucked up as the whole situation was, I didn’t want it to end.
Truth was, I felt better when I was with her than I had in longer than I could remember. She made me want to be a better man.
In the past week and a half since the party, I’d found myself making up any excuse just to be close to her. Even though I knew it was a flat-out lie, I kept telling myself that I was just spending time with a friend. Maybe if I said it enough, I could make it true. But considering how my dick never failed to turn into a concrete pillar any time she was around, or I smelled that sea breeze and lilac fragrance that was so distinctly her, I seriously fucking doubted that. Hell, all Ireallyhad to do was think about her, and I was hard enough to drive fucking nails into wood. And I thought about her all the goddamn time.
I was spending all damn day, every day, in a near-constant state of arousal. If I jerked off one more time, I was afraid I might snap my dick off.
Lifting the glass to my lips, I took a pull of the whiskey I’d poured myself earlier. I usually stuck to beer, but after another afternoon spent with Sawyer at the local coffee shop, another afternoon where I sat so close but couldn’t touch her, where I could see her smile but couldn’t lean in to taste it, I needed something a whole hell of a lot stronger.
Leaning forward, I placed the tumbler on the coffee table, my eyes drifting to the bowl in the center of the coffee table. I wanted Sawyer’s beautiful artwork right where I could see it at all times, a place of prominence. I found myself staring at it constantly throughout the day.
I was pretty sure I’d never owned anything as nice as that bowl. Back in Hope Valley, my place was only a few steps up from a bachelor pad. There wasn’t a single thing on any of the plain beige walls. The furniture was minimalistic. Not in the artsy, stylish way, but because I hadn’t had the time or the inclination to bother with furniture shopping.
There was nothing special about the tiny apartment. It hadn’t been anything more than a place I went to crash after working so long on a case I could barely keep my eyes open.
The beach house was a million times better by comparison. It was fully furnished with plush, comfortable furniture and decorated to fit the esthetic of a coastal beach town without being tacky. It was pleasant and airy. But it still didn’t have anything on Sawyer’s home. Sure, it was a little bigger, but that didn’t matter.
Sawyer’s house was comfortable and homey. It felt welcoming, a place that coaxed you inside and invited you to stay. It was a place you never wanted to leave. I knew that from first-hand experience.
I would have given anything to be there now, but there was something else I needed to do first.
I felt like absolute shit for it, but I’d been avoiding Dalton for a couple weeks now. It was getting harder to lie to him about where I was and what I was doing, so I’d taken the coward’s way out, and instead of answering his calls, I’d responded back through short, to-the-point texts that didn’t detail much.
