Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer. Lori Foster

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       “All right. I’ll go get my tools together.”

       Sawyer stepped back into the room and shut the door, then leaned against it. Just as Gabe had mentioned, Honey watched him, her blue eyes wide and wary. He nodded at her unfinished roll. “You done?”

       “Oh.” She glanced down at the plate as if just remembering it was there. “Yes.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin he’d provided and patted her mouth. “Thank you. That was delicious. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry.”

       Eating less than one cinnamon roll qualified as hungry? He grunted. “More coffee?”

       “Yes, please.”

       Her continued formality and good manners tickled him. Here she was, bundled up in his bed, naked except for his son’s jersey, and with every other word she said please. She still sounded like a rusty nail on concrete, but she didn’t look as tense as she had last night. Probably the need for sleep had been more dire than anything else. As he refilled her cup, emptying the carafe, he said, “I have spare toothbrushes in my office. If you’d like, I can give you one. I’d go get yours, but I’m not sure which box it’s in.”

       “I’m not sure, either.”

       “Okay, then. I’ll fetch you one in a bit.” He finished his own coffee while leaning on the dresser, looking at her. “Before I start getting ready for my day, you want to tell me who you are?”

       She went so still, it alarmed him. He set down his empty cup and folded his arms over his chest. “Well?”

       “I think,” she muttered, not quite meeting his gaze, “that it’ll be simpler all around if I don’t involve you.”

       “You don’t trust me?”

       “Trust a man I’ve known one day?”

       “Why not? I haven’t done anything to hurt you, have I?”

       “No. It’s not that. It’s just…Sawyer, I can’t stay here. I don’t want to endanger you or your son or your brothers.”

       That was so ludicrous he laughed. And her lack of trust, regardless of the time limits, unreasonably annoyed him. “So you think one little scrawny woman is better able to defend herself than four men and a strapping fifteen-year-old?”

       Her mouth firmed at his sarcasm. “I don’t intend to get into a physical battle.”

       “No? You’re going to just keep running from whatever the hell it is you’re running from?”

       “That’s none of your business,” she insisted.

       His jaw clenched. “Maybe not, but it would sure simplify the hell out of things if you stopped being so secretive.”

       She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. Sawyer felt like a bully. Just because she’d sat up and eaten a little didn’t mean she was up to much more than that. He sighed in disgust—at himself and her—then pushed away from the dresser to remove the tray from her lap.

       She glanced at him nervously. “I…I don’t mean to make this more difficult.”

       He kept his back to her, not wanting her to see his frown. “I realize that. But you’re going to have to tell me something sooner or later.”

       A heavy hesitation filled the air. Then he heard her draw in her breath. “No, I don’t. My plans don’t concern you.”

       Everything in him fought against the truth of her words. “You landed in my lake.”

       “And I offered to pay for the damages.”

       He turned to face her, his muscles tense. “Forget the damn damages. I’m not worried about that.”

       She looked sad and resolute. “But payment for the damages is all I owe you. I didn’t ask to be brought here. I didn’t ask for your help.”

       “You got it anyway.” He stalked close again, unable to keep the distance between them. “No respectable man would leave a sick, frightened woman alone in a rainstorm. Especially a woman who was panicked and damn near delusional.”

       “I wasn’t—”

       “You slugged my son. You were afraid of me.”

       She winced again, then worried her bottom lip between her teeth. His heart nearly melted, and that angered him more than anything else. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. “Honey, you can trust me. You can trust us.” She didn’t quite meet his gaze, staring instead at his throat. “The best thing now is to tell me what’s going on so I know what to expect.”

       She looked haunted as her gaze met his, but she also looked strong, and he wasn’t surprised when she whispered, “Or I can leave.”

       They stared at each other, a struggle of wills, and with a soft oath Sawyer stood and paced away. Maybe he was pushing too fast. She needed time to reason things through. He’d wear her down, little by little. And if that didn’t work, he’d have Morgan start an investigation—whether she liked it or not.

       One thing was certain. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he knew it was safe.

       With his back to her, his hands braced on the dresser, he said, “Not yet.”

       “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

       “Wanna bet?” He felt like a bastard, but his gut instincts urged him to keep her close regardless of her insistence. “Morgan is the town sheriff, and he heard everything you said. If nothing else, he’d want to keep you around for questioning. I’m willing to give you some time. But until you’re ready to explain, you’re not going anywhere.”

       He could feel her staring at his back, feel the heat of her anger. She wasn’t nearly so frail as he’d first thought, and she had more gumption than the damn old mule Jordan kept out in the pasture.

       Despite the raspiness of her voice, he heard her disdain when she muttered, “And you wanted me to trust you.”

       His hand fisted on the dresser, but he refused to take the bait. He pulled open a drawer and got out a pair of shorts, saying over his shoulder, “I need to shower and get dressed before patients start showing up. Why don’t you just go on back to sleep for a spell? Maybe things’ll look a little different this afternoon.”

       He saw her reflection in the mirror, the way her eyes were already closing, shutting him out. He wanted to say something more, but he couldn’t. So instead he walked away, and he closed the door behind him very softly.

      SHESLEPT the better part of the day. After taking more medicine and cleaning up as much as she could using the toothbrush he provided and the masculine-scented soap in the bathroom, she simply konked out. One minute she’d been disgruntled because he was rushing her back to bed, and the next she was sound asleep. Sawyer roused her once to take more ibuprofen and sip more water, but she barely stirred enough to follow his directions. He held her head up with one hand, aware of the СКАЧАТЬ