Breaking down, p.5
Breaking Down, page 5
He pushed away from the counter and headed down the hallway. “I’ll grab you a T-shirt to put on until this one is dry.”
Carmen watched him walk away, sipping the remains of her warming beer. A buzz sounded from her purse, and the familiar spurt of anxiety flooded her veins at the sound. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Baby, where are you? I’m worried.
“Don’t call me baby, jerk.” She stabbed the delete key and tossed the phone onto the island.
“What was that?” Sawyer came into the kitchen and held a clean shirt out to her. Button-down. The type women wore in movies with no pants and inevitably had ripped off their bodies a short time later. Carmen gave her head a shake and took the shirt from him. She ran the well-worn fabric through her fingers as she waited for the thumping in her chest to ease.
“Nothing, I was talking to myself.”
He raised a brow at her. “Uh, huh?” He gave Carmen a long, pointed stare. “I thought this might fit better than a tee.”
She nodded, watching as he tidied up the remains of their lunch. Every smooth, efficient motion had a purpose—a reason.
The weight of her scrutiny must have been tangible because he turned and caught her eye. Does he feel the connection, Carmen wondered? An electric current in the air between the two of them. The hairs on her arm rose. She’d never felt anything like it, certainly not with Billy. “I . . . I should change.”
Sawyer’s eyes strayed down to the wet cotton front of her shirt, and the muscles of his throat contracted. “Bathroom is on the right.”
By the time Carmen came back from the bathroom, Sawyer had moved from the kitchen to the living room to sprawl on the couch. When she came through the door, he was yawning. Two mugs steamed on the coffee table.
“What’s this?” she asked, sinking to the edge of the soft leather cushions beside him.
“Top Gear reruns.” He passed her the remote. “Here. You go ahead. I need to shower. I’ve stunk up the place long enough.”
“I can go.” She set the remote on the coffee table, thrown off-kilter by his casual hospitality. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“No, stay. Hang out for as long as you want. The garage has been quiet lately.” He stood, and the couch shifted with the loss of his weight. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
He knew she had nowhere to go, was providing his apartment as a haven to pass the time. She wondered if he were missing work because of her but knew he would deny it if she asked him.
When the sound of running water emanated from the bathroom, Carmen got up and walked around the room. Sawyer had a bookcase. Her heart did a little flip in her chest. She went over and ran her fingers over the titles. On the second shelf, she stopped and pulled out a copy of The Hobbit. When she opened the pages, a picture slid out and floated down to land on the floor under the coffee table.
Carmen bent down and grasped the glossy sheet, meaning to tuck it back into the book. “Oh my God.” She slammed the photo face down on top of the book, blood surging up her face. “Holy heck.” Craning her neck to peer down the hall, she listened for a moment, then flipped the photo over.
It was a black and white shot of Sawyer; he looked a few years younger, his long hair hanging around a face that was slightly softer than it was now. It was all stark angles and shadows cast in strategic places. Sawyer’s eyes dominated the photo, intent and sharp. A hint of a smile pulled up one corner of his full mouth. Light played on his chest’s contours and then melted to a shadow at the V of his abs. The frame cut off right above his pubic bone.
Long dormant heat uncoiled itself low in Carmen’s belly and stretched languid tendrils down her limbs. She shivered, unable to pull her eyes away from the photo. How the person who had taken the picture stood on the receiving end of that look and kept the mental capacity to set up the shot was beyond her.
“What’s that?”
Carmen stifled a yelp and dropped the picture for the second time. “I’m so sorry. I pulled the book out and ...”
Her words trailed off into a sort of unintelligent hum. Sawyer stood behind her, head cocked in curiosity. A pair of jeans—well-loved, faded, almost white—hung off his hips, and a towel around his neck soaked up the water from his hair. A few rebellious drops broke free to roam the valley of his bare chest.
“Well, shit.” Sawyer bent to pick up the photo. “Look at that.”
“I . . .” Carmen had forgotten what words were.
“My ex is a photographer. She bribed me into letting her take these a few years ago. I thought I threw them all away.” He looked down at the photo and shook his head. “The stupid things we do for the people we love, hey?”
Carmen swallowed. “It’s a beautiful picture. The use of light—” She found she could not finish, her face burned so severely she had to resist the urge to fan her cheeks. The flush was embarrassment now, mostly. Determined not to think about the heady flush of desire that hit her when she looked at the photo, Carmen grabbed her coffee and took a huge slug.
Adept by now at pulling them away from awkward silences, Sawyer motioned to the couch and laid the photo face down on one shelf in front of the books. “Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“No, thank you. I’m fine. Are you sure you have nothing to do? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Nah.” He settled himself onto the couch with a sigh. “The shop is dead. I ordered your parts, but I can’t do much until they come.”
They watched television and talked about the menial topics people getting acquainted with each other always discuss. A commercial break blared on, and Carmen turned, propping a knee up so she was facing him. He had not put on a shirt. All that covered him was the afghan from the back of the couch and a smattering of chest hair. Dark circles shadowed the skin under his eyes. She wondered what had kept him up last night.
“So, what does a person do while they wait for car parts? Besides hang out and overeat?”
“Hmm. Valid question.” He tapped a finger against his chin. “Most of the time, they go hiking with lonely but charismatic mechanics.”
“Your dad hikes? I pegged him as more of a biker sort.” She gave him a deadpan stare until lines of amusement fanned from the corners of his eyes.
“Pop doesn’t enjoy hiking or nature or redheads.”
Carmen couldn’t help the laugh swelling in her chest. She shouldn’t be flirting, but she was not thinking of comebacks hours after the fact for the first time in her life. Never had she fallen so quickly into banter with someone. It felt so good, freeing, to just laugh. To push the problems of her life to the background and ignore them, opting instead to be charmed by the funny, gorgeous man sprawled on the couch next to her.
“I would like to go hiking.” She bumped her knee against his and turned back to the television as the show returned from its commercial break. “Let me know if you find a charismatic mechanic anywhere.”
“I’ll put the word out. There’s so many of us in this town it’s practically overrun. You may have to hold auditions.” He yawned mightily and leaned his head back against the couch, pillowing it on the blanket. “Let’s have a nap and then go for dinner.” He mumbled the words as a sort of declaration. Far more casual than their time together should have allowed. Then closed his eyes. Seconds later, his breathing dropped into a soft rhythm, and Carmen stared at his profile, utterly unsure about what to do with herself. Finally, she leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes, allowing Sawyer’s soft breathing to lull her racing mind.
Chapter 6
TRUE TO HIS PRE-NAP promise, Sawyer drove Carmen to her hotel to change and then to the side of town she had not yet explored, parking in front of what appeared to be a dilapidated warehouse. Carmen stared at the rundown building, then gave him a puzzled glance. “You lied to me before; you are going to Dexter me?”
Sawyer chuckled as he jumped out of the truck.
“It’s why you brought the tow truck. To implicate your dad, keep the DNA in one place.” She was still talking while he walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and held out a hand for her.
Sawyer shook his head. “You city folk, always so sure everyone is out to get you.” He did not release her hand once she was on the ground, but instead tucked her fingers into the warm crook of his elbow. “If it eases your mind, my dad took my truck home today and left me with this beast. He’s taking Mom out for their anniversary, and he said my truck is sexier than her station wagon.”
“Aww, well, that’s sweet.”
“They can be disgustingly adorable,” Sawyer said with a crinkle of his nose. “Come on. You’ll love this place.” He pulled Carmen through a set of double-swinging doors that creaked as they entered.
They stood by the Please Wait to Be Seated sign inside the door. The interior was full of chatter, the clinking of cutlery and glassware. Carmen gazed around, sucking deep breaths of air so magnificently laden with smells that her mouth flooded, and she swallowed. “Oh, my.”
“This is The Riverside Smokehouse. They do all their meats and brew their beer right here. The rest is the seating area.” Sawyer took her shoulder and turned her around. Carmen gasped. Utilitarian down to its bones. The converted warehouse was a rustic, chic wonderland.
Rough-hewn slabs formed long communal tables, each adorned with quart jars spilling wildflowers onto mismatched lace table runners. Candles sent dancing lights out from their holders of repurposed wine bottles, and above their heads, strand upon strand of tiny twinkling lights crossed the cavernous space like dust trails left by fairies.
“This place is fantastic.” Carmen tipped her head up and her wide eyes met Sawyer’s. For a long moment, he stared back, the light from the flames dancing in the bright blue of his irises and creating shadows under his high cheekbones. Carmen swallowed, suddenly terrified and desperately hopeful he would kiss her. Through the tips of her fingers that still lay tucked against his body, she could feel the pounding of his heart. His eyes strayed down to her lips, and he turned a half step, bringing their bodies around to face each other. Carmen pulled in a shaky breath.
“Sawyer, what a lovely surprise.” The caustic tone said otherwise. Carmen and Sawyer whirled, nearly colliding with each other like guilty children caught at mischief.
“Hey, Mary.” Sawyer’s cheeks darkened. “I didn’t know you worked here now.”
Mary pursed her pink-stained lips. “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to, seeing as we haven’t spoken in months.” She speared him with a look that, observer though she was, made Carmen’s palms sweat. Then Mary’s chin rose a fraction and she bent, retrieving two menus off the stack on the hostess stand. She let her eyes fall on Carmen for the first time, her features melting into an overly bright, sickeningly fake smile. “Welcome to Riverside Smokehouse. Right this way, please.”
They settled themselves at the end of one of the long tables. Once Mary left with their drink orders, Carmen picked up her menu and peaked at Sawyer over the top. “Is she going to poison our food?” she whispered.
Sawyer winced. “I’m sorry about that. We dated a few times. It fizzled. I probably didn’t handle the situation as well as I should have.”
“It’s none of my business.” Carmen turned back to the menu. “Seeing as I have your guarantee of survival, what should I have?”
“The pulled pork sandwich,” Sawyer replied instantly. “And a pale ale. Though let’s be clear here, I never actually made any guarantee.”
She stared at him, ignoring the last part of his comment. “I just ordered a glass of wine.”
Sawyer waved a hand in the air. “Drink both.”
Carmen scoffed and set the menu down on the table, folding her hands over the top. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Are you chicken?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
Carmen sniffed. “Oh, please! Be careful, country boy, I’m half Irish.”
“Well, well . . .” Sawyer leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “That sounds a lot like a challenge.”
“Take it how you’d like, Stevenson.” She mimicked his posture and wondered what in the name of hell she was doing.
BY HER THIRD BEER, that question still plagued Carmen. More importantly, however, she remained secure in her seat while Sawyer’s smile grew more lopsided by the swallow.
She drained her glass and watched him across the rim as he did the same. “How are we getting back?”
He gave her a look that would have melted the condensation off her beer mug had there been any left. “Your hotel is right around the corner.”
Carmen cocked her head and smiled back sweetly as she pushed away from the table. “That doesn’t help you now, does it?”
Sawyer threw back his head and laughed. “I’ll walk. Nothing in this town is too far away,” Sawyer assured her, still chuckling. The sound followed Carmen down the hallway when she excused herself and went in search of the washrooms.
When she looked in the mirror after washing her hands, Carmen decided she had been too cocky, thinking the booze was not affecting her as much as Sawyer. Her cheeks were rosy and a stupid grin kept creeping its way across her lips no matter how much she tried to quell it.
Carmen pushed the restroom door open with a paper towel just as a man passed her heading into the other restroom. She froze, her heart slamming into her throat, and she whipped around. “Billy?” The word flew to her lips but came out only as a soft hiss.
For a second, she was sure. The quick flash of profile left her frozen in the doorway. She swallowed, drew a shaky breath, shook her head, and told herself it was nothing but a trick of the light. She repeated it over and over while walking back to the table, but her heartbeat was still frantic when she slid into her seat.
“What’s wrong?” Sawyer cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he studied her face. Their food had arrived, but his knife and fork still lay beside his plate. He had waited for her before he began.
Carmen took a long swallow from her water glass before answering. “Nothing, I thought I saw someone I knew. Obviously, I was wrong.”
He raised a brow, waiting for her to elaborate, but she did not. Her heart still beat a tattoo inside her ribs, but she clenched her hands to stop their shaking.
“So,” she sat back, striving for calm, “you’re not as drunk as you were acting.” It was not a question. The more she thought about it, the more obvious the fact became.
“No, I’m not.” He ruefully studied the lip of his mug. “Takes more than three beers to take out a guy my size.”
“What exactly were you hoping to gain?”
Realization dawned on Sawyer’s face at the slight accusation in her tone. He frowned, leaning across the table. “Carmen, it wasn’t anything like that. I didn’t try to pull a fast one on you.”
She narrowed her eyes, and he had the good grace to squirm in his chair. “So, you weren’t trying to get me into bed?” she asked, point-blank.
He poked at his fork with one finger, avoiding her eyes. “I thought you could use a night to let loose. If you wanted to sleep together after, well, that would have been a lucky bonus.”
Carmen narrowed her eyes at him. Sawyer promptly looked up and then melted her with a grin. “I’m kidding. I only want you to have fun.”
“In that case, thank you.” She reached out and laid her fingers on the back of his hand. “You were right. I did need a night out.”
His eyes strayed down to where their hands rested together, and Sawyer relaxed visibly under her touch. “My pleasure. Promise I wasn’t trying to pull one over on you.” He held up the pinky finger of his free hand. “I’m even willing to pinkie swear.”
Carmen laughed. “Thank you, but I don’t think such a binding contract is necessary.”
“Well, there is one more thing I have yet to share with you.”
“And what’s that?” she asked, cautiously.
A crooked, mischievous smile inched itself across his face. “The music is about to start; we are going to dance, so you better eat up.”
Carmen choked on the swallow of ale she’d just taken. “Pardon me?”
“Dancing! Starts out as line dancing usually, then sort of turns into a free for all. Bumping, grinding, the likes.” Sawyer shrugged, a look of complete, and therefore feigned, innocence on his face. “Eat up.” He nudged her plate closer to her with one finger and then picked up his cutlery. “Chop, chop.”
Carmen stared at him for a moment, then down at her food. With a sigh, she lifted her own fork and dug in. For the first few bites, she merely savoured the delicious, smoky flavours of the meat, then she looked over at Sawyer and caught him looking at her.
“Good?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.
She answered by rolling her eyes back in a moment of pure ecstasy.
SAWYER FINISHED BEFORE her, then stared at her with a round-eyed, hopeful expression while she ate her last few bites. Carmen threw her napkin onto her plate with a laugh. “Okay, okay. I’m done now.”
“Let’s go!”
Carmen stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “How can you possibly feel like moving around? I think you’re going to have to roll me out of this chair and back to the hotel like a barrel.”
“You’ll burn it off.” He was up and tugging at her hand. Carmen stood with a groan.
“You’re insane,” she grumbled over the twanging of guitars warming up. “It’s no wonder you stay skinny. You don’t give your food a chance to stick to your bones.”
Sawyer dragged her out into the space cleared in front of the small, raised stage. Grinning, Sawyer waved at a guitar player on the stage, then did a little bow in front of her, making Carmen laugh. “Ready?” he asked.
“Not in the least,” she replied, and put her hand in his extended one. The sounds of plucked strings and vocal warm-ups switched to music. A tall, lean man stepped up to the microphone and the rich notes of his baritone voice washed over the room.
