Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer. Lori Foster
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She almost choked, but ended up coughing as she finished smoothing her T-shirt into place. She pulled the door open and said to his face, “Nope.”
His gaze moved over her slowly, from the top of her head, where she had braided her long hair and then knotted it to keep it dry, to her T-shirt and down her jeans to her bare feet.
She bit her lip. “I don’t know what happened to my sandals.”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
He shook himself, then met her steady gaze. “Yeah. One fell off in the lake and sank. The other might still be in your car—I dunno. At the time, I wasn’t overly worried about it, not with an unconscious woman in my arms.”
“Ah.”
“You’re not wearing a bra.”
“You can tell?” She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and started to go back into the bathroom to look for herself in the mirror. Sawyer caught her.
He slowly pulled her arms away and held them to her sides. She didn’t stop him. Everything she’d just told herself about staying detached faded into oblivion under his hot, probing gaze.
There they stood in the middle of the hallway, only a foot apart, and somehow fear, sickness and worry didn’t exist. All she could think of was whether or not he’d kiss her again, and if he found her satisfactory. She’d always been pleased with her body, but then, she wasn’t a man.
In a hoarse tone, he noted, “You have goose bumps.” Gently, his big, rough hands chaffed up and down her bare arms.
“The…the house is cold.”
He lifted one broad shoulder. “We keep the air-conditioning pretty low this time of year. Men are naturally warmer than women. Especially when the woman is so slight. I’ll get one of my shirts for you to put on.”
Excitement at the way he watched her made it impossible to speak. She nodded instead.
“You two going to stand there all day gawking? I’m starved.”
Sawyer swiveled his head to look at Gabe. He still held Honey’s arms. “How can you be starving when you didn’t do anything all day?”
“I cooked rolls this morning, fixed your leak, then visited three women. That’s a busy day in anyone’s book.” He grinned, then asked, “Should I just drag the table in here so we can all gather in the hallway? Is that what we’re doing?”
Sawyer narrowed his gaze at his brother, but there was no menace in the look. “I have an appointment with Darlene tomorrow so she can get her flu shot. Maybe I’ll mention your fondness for Mississippi mud pie. I hear Darlene’s quite a cook.”
Gabe took a step back, his grin replaced with a look of pure horror. “You fight dirty, Sawyer, you know that?”
Honey was amazed at the amount of grudging respect in Gabe’s tone, as if fighting dirty impressed him. And then he stomped away. Sawyer laughed.
She wondered if she would ever understand this unique clan of men. She looked up at Sawyer. “What in the world was that all about?”
A half smile tilted his mouth. “Darlene has the hots for Gabe and she’s looking to get married. She’s been chasing him pretty hard for a while. Gabe has this old-fashioned sense of gallantry toward women, so he can’t quite bring himself to come right out and tell her to leave him alone. He remains cautiously polite, and she remains determined.”
“So if you mentioned a pie…”
“She’d be here every day with one.” He grinned again and gently started her on her way. He moved slowly to accommodate her. The bath had tired her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. Being sick or weak wasn’t an easy concept to accept. Not for Honey.
“Why doesn’t Gabe like her?”
“He likes her fine. She’s a very attractive woman, beautiful even. Gabe went through school with her. I sometimes think that’s the problem for him. He knows all the women around here so well. Gabe doesn’t want to get serious about anyone, so he tries to avoid the women who are too obvious.”
“Darlene’s obvious?”
Sawyer shrugged. “Where Gabe’s concerned, they all are. Darlene was just the first name to come to mind.”
“Then she won’t really be here tomorrow?”
“Nope.” He put his arm around her waist and offered his support. “Come on, let’s get that shirt and get to dinner so the savages can eat. If I leave them hungry too long, they’re liable to turn on each other.”
SAWYERWATCHEDHER nibble delicately on her meal. And he watched his brothers watch her, amused that they were all so distracted by her. She looked uncomfortable with all the notice, but she didn’t stomp on any more toes.
He doubted she had the energy for that. Her face was pale, her eyes dark with fatigue. Yet she refused to admit it. She had a lot of backbone, he’d give her that. As soon as she finished eating, he planned to tuck her back up in bed where she belonged.
He sat across from her—a deliberate choice so he could watch her. Gabe sat beside him, Casey sat beside her, with Morgan and Jordan at the head and foot of the table.
She’d been all round eyes and female amazement as she’d looked at the house on the way to the kitchen. Her appreciation warmed him. Most women who got through the front door were bemused with the styling of the house, all exposed pine and high ceilings and masculine functionality. The house wasn’t overly excessive, but it was certainly comfortable for a family of large men. It had been his father’s dream home, and his mother had readily agreed to it. At least, that’s how she liked to tell it.
Sawyer grinned, because in truth, he knew there were few things his mother ever did readily. She was a procrastinator and liked to think things over thoroughly. Unlike his guest, who’d barreled through his fence and landed in his lake and then proceeded to try to slug him.
Sawyer noticed Morgan staring at him, and he wiped the grin off his face.
He returned his gaze to Honey and saw her look around the large kitchen. They never used the dining room, not for daily meals. But the kitchen was immense, one of the largest rooms in the house, and the place where they all seemed to congregate most often. For that reason they had a long pine table that could comfortably seat eight, as well as a short bar with three stools that divided the eating area from the cooking area. Pots hung on hooks, accessible, and along the outside wall there was a row of pegs that held everything from hats and jackets to car and truck keys. The entire house had black checked curtains at the windows, but the ones in the kitchen were never closed. With the kitchen on the same side of the house as his bedroom, there was always a view of the lake. His mother had planned it that way because, she claimed, looking at the lake made the chore of doing dishes more agreeable. After they’d gotten older and all had to take their turn, they’d agreed. Then they’d gotten a dishwasher, but still there were times when one or more of them would be caught there, drinking a glass of milk or snacking and staring at the placid surface of the lake.