Page 66 of Say Yes to the Death

The seductive scent of warm bread greeted her when she emerged from the bathroom.

“Wow, that smells amazing.” She stepped into the kitchen and sniffed appreciatively.

Rosie was in the living room, playing tug with the Rottweiler. Crap, she hadn’t even asked his name. Or brought a host gift. Alice would have been even more disappointed in her.

“Oh, thanks,” Sawyer said as he pulled a loaf of homemade bread from the oven. “Gentle, Diesel,” he said over his shoulder. The Rottweiler released the rope and sat on his butt.

Sawyer shut the oven and turned back to Claire. “I? just happened to have a stew in the crockpot that’s almost done. Are you hungry?”

“Starving. Thank you so much. I? really am sorry to just show up like this. I? didn’t know who else to call.”

“You can always call me.”

“Thanks.” She stepped behind the bar to keep some distance between them. Sawyer seemed like a genuine, warm person. And he had quite literally saved her life. But she had planned a proposal for a serial killer. Her judgment was garbage. She couldn’t afford to misjudge someone else. “How can I? help?”

He shrugged. “You could set those bowls out if you want.” He gestured to a mismatched pair that looked like he had been toting around since college. She should send him a matching set from Crate and Barrel to say thank you. Assuming he didn’t murder her.

She placed the bowls on the table along with silverware and napkins and curled up in a chair, hugging her knees to her chest. How did these spindly wooden chairs support Sawyer’s weight?

Her phone beeped, and she glanced at it. It was a confirmation text from a florist in Miami. Alice’s apology flowers and chocolate assortment had just been delivered. Hopefully, it would soften her mom’s heart.

“Feel better after your shower?”

“So much better.” There had been something comforting about the modest, outdated charm of Sawyer’s bathroom. It reminded her of the first house she had lived in with Roy.

“So, the paparazzi were waiting for you when you got home?”

Claire nodded.

“Are you sure your driver didn’t call them?”

Of course he didn’t. But… “You know, I? actually have no idea. But I? wasn’t even supposed to come home until tomorrow morning. As you probably guessed from my interrogation earlier, somebody leaked the news about the note. One of them screamed it at me through the windshield. Luckily they only know about one.”

It was time to deploy the plan she had formulated in the shower. As of that moment, only she, Luke, Charlie, Alice, and the police knew about the Paris note. If she told Sawyer and it ended up in the news the next day, she would know he was untrustworthy.

Sawyer looked at her earnestly as he sawed off a piece of homemade bread and offered it to her.

“Did you say they only know about one note? As in there was another one?”

She nodded and took the bread from him. “Buckle up. It’s story time.”

Sawyer spoke little during her recounting of the Paris trip. She left out the part about Luke’s betrayal. And the sex. What was it about Sawyer that made her want to spill her guts? She still didn’t feel totally at ease, but he was like a blank sheet. She could hurl any thoughts in her head at him and he would let them stick without judgment. He listened carefully, maintaining eye contact and occasionally interjecting with a supportive comment.

After dinner, he led her to the living room. She felt lighter as she sank into the overstuffed couch. He hadn’t told her she was being crazy or irrational. He hadn’t handcuffed her to a radiator and refused to let her be on her own. And she had told the whole story start to finish without crying. Who needed a therapist now, Luke?

Stop thinking about that idiot.

Diesel and Rosie lay together on a massive plaid dog bed, snoring in tandem.

“Sawyer?” she asked, turning to find him.

“Hmm?” he asked, returning with two glasses of wine. “Thought you could use this after today.” He placed a glass in her hand.

“More than you know.” She sniffed the glass hesitantly. What was she expecting to smell? Roofies? Did roofies even have a smell?

“It’s safe.” Sawyer nodded at the glass. He sat in the plaid armchair opposite her.

Her heart thudded in her chest. The sickly sweet smell of chloroform had floated to the surface of her memory again. “Oh, I wasn’t?—”

---