Page 16 of Sleepover

Chapter 7

Elle

I’m making pancakes for the boys when the doorbell rings.

“Madden! Can you get that?”

There’s no answer. Madden and Jonah are downstairs playing in a fort they built, and I’m guessing with the basement door closed and the blankets and pillows muffling their ears, they can’t hear me. Or their hearing has grown selective because they’re immersed in their own imaginative world…

I head for the door myself.

It’s Sawyer.

I’m startled, anew, by just how big he is, and how attractive. He’s wearing a pair of camel-colored Carhartts and a black T-shirt that says Emily’s, with a cartoon picture of a fifties club-car diner. The T-shirt fits gorgeously over his broad shoulders and chest and I remember, with a rush of desire, how those muscles flexed under my hands. His hair is damp, as though he’s fresh from the shower, and I can’t help myself: I breathe deeply—but surreptitiously—and catch a whiff of Lever. Damn. I’m a sucker for that soap.

“Sorry.” As usual, his delivery is gruff. It roughs up my nerve endings in a way I’d like to hate but can’t. “I texted but you didn’t answer, so I came over. I was hoping to take Jonah for a hike. I wanted to grab him in an hour or so.”

“Sure, no problem. The boys are up. I was about to feed them some pancakes. I’m making them now.”

“I figured.” He gestures with a tilt of his head at my hand, which—I now realize—is clutching a spatula. “At least, that was my best guess.” He raises an eyebrow.

Damn him. That eyebrow quirk ripples through all the earthquake-prone bits of me.

He, on the other hand, is unfazed. He shifts away from the door, indicating the conversation is over. “If you could just let Jonah know. Madden’s welcome, too.”

“Welcome where?” Madden demands, materializing with Jonah in tow.

“On a hike with Mr. Paulson and Jonah.”

“A long hike?”

I look to Sawyer.

“Couple miles. Not super long. Really great view at the end.”

“Can I, Mom?”

Obviously, according to the workings of Murphy’s Law, these two boys are going to be inseparable. But I’ll just have to live with that, and find ways not to have to be face-to-face with Sawyer. I can be a big girl about it. “Um, Dad is taking you to his place for dinner tonight, so—would he be back by dinnertime? Before five?” I address these questions to Sawyer. Five is when Trevor is scheduled to pick Madden up.

“We should be back before that.”

“Sure, you can go,” I tell Madden, who bounces on his toes in jubilation.

“You should hike with us, too,” Jonah says to me.

“Um, thanks.” I don’t meet Sawyer’s eyes. He makes no move to reinforce Jonah’s invitation, so I figure he’s as horrified by the thought as I am. “That’s, um, super nice. But I’ve got a lot of things to do. Writing. I have a bunch of articles due. I have a freelance writing business—” I stop just in time, before I can fully gear up into babble territory.

“Mr. Paulson, you should come in and have some pancakes,” Madden says. “My mom makes the best pancakes.”

They really are such delightful, polite, kind boys, and yet I want to shake them right now. I mutter, “Yes, you should have some pancakes with us.” It’s the most ungracious invitation ever issued, and I imagine my mother, who is a stickler for manners, shaking her finger at me.

“Already ate,” Sawyer says. “Thanks. So yeah. Send the boys my way.”

And on that note, without an actual goodbye, he turns and heads back to his house.

I sigh and close the door, leaning against it like that might shut out some portion of either my unruly attraction or my embarrassment. Or just keep him from ever showing up on my doorstep again.

Except I liked having him on my doorstep. The problem is maybe that I liked it a little too much.

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