Page 24 of Tattered Edges

When she was nothing more than a pretty tourist breezing through, she’d been a fleeting temptation.

Now, she was a complication he thought better to avoid.

He didn’t want to like her, let alonedesireher. She was an obstacle in his way. Part of him hoped the American would get bored or homesick, change her mind about London and Tattered Edges, and sell him the building he’d been so close to acquiring.

But there was another part of him, the weakest part of him, that found her unbearably charming and irritatingly endearing. It didn’t help at all that she was beautiful.

Rory watched her as she approached, his brow furrowing when he noticed the wine and biscuits she carried.

“Hi,” she called over the noise of the room from where she stood behind Graham. “I wanted to say thanks again, for your help this morning. I wasn’t sure what you might like, but these are for you.”

Graham, who had turned to catch a glimpse of who was speaking, responded before Rory could.

“Those are for him? Are you telling me, this grouch did something nice enough to warrant a gift from the likes of you? Bullocks,” he laughed.

Rory shook his head slightly and fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Sawyer looked between the two men then settled her gaze on Graham and replied, “I woke him kind of aggressively this morning to help me find my fuse box. It would have been a disaster of a day without him.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Graham, sounding impressed. “And who are you?”

Again, Sawyer hesitated, shifting her gaze between the two men.

“Graham, my new neighbor—Sawyer. Sawyer, my best mate, Graham,” Rory interjected.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sawyer. Let me go ahead and take this wine off your hands. He’ll never drink it, but Maya will,” he said, plucking the bottle from her grasp. He examined the bottle then added, “Good choice. My wife loves a decent cab.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

“Go on then, have a seat,” Graham insisted, gesturing toward the vacant space next to him. “You’ve piqued my interest. I didn’t know Rory had a new American neighbor named Sawyer.”

It was obvious she didn’t know what to make of his friend. Much as he wished he didn’t like her, he couldn’t help but to put her out of her misery.

“Would you like a martini?” Rory nodded toward Graham and declared, “He’s buying.”

This earned him a smile, the expression lighting up her pale gray eyes.

Rory ignored the satisfaction of being responsible for that look.

“Sure. I’d love one,” Sawyer agreed.

She placed the box of biscuits on the bar, shrugged her way out of her coat, then settled next to Graham.

“You’re an awfully long way from home. What brought you here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Rory began to mix the ingredients of her dirty martini as she answered openly, “Uh,Reader’s Digestversion? The man who owned the bookshop next door was my father. I found out a couple months ago, when I discovered I was named in his will. He left me the shop, I decided I wanted it, and here I am.”

“Damn. That sounds sorted. So, you never met the man?”

“Nope.”

“Blimey. And that’s it? You just packed up your whole life on the wishes of a dead man you never knew?”

Sawyer’s soft laughter caused Rory to look away from his task. Without stopping to think about the longing that triggered his action, he paused to capture the memory of the look on her face. Amused and carefree.

It only took him a second to realize he was on the verge of staring, and he frowned, shifting his focus back where it belonged.

“When you put it like that, it sounds crazy. It’s hard to explain, but it felt right, so I took the risk.”

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