Page 20 of Sawyer
“I don’t want to impose.”His eyes flick to the kitchen, and I know how good it smells.I wonder when he last had a home-cooked dinner was, assuming he isn’t a cook himself.
“You imposed the minute you drove through my gate.”A small, teasing smile dances on my lips as I look at him pointedly.
“Well, since I’m here…” he murmurs, his mouth quirking to the side.Something about the sight has me feeling warm all over.
I really hope this isn’t a terrible idea.
10
Sawyer
My mouth’s watering, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the delicious smells coming from her kitchen or the way she looks at me with that small sassy grin she has or the way her eyes alight when she gets a little cheeky.
All three have my senses on overload.I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.But I like talking to her.I like seeing her do life.I like spending time getting to know her.And I sure as hell like looking at her.
“I’ve made extra, so there’s plenty.”She stands at her table, still rummaging through papers that look like they’ve been sitting there for a while.She’s lost the contract.No doubt about it.I notice that she twirls her hair when she’s unsure or fibbing about something, which she’s doing now.She would be a terrible poker player.I smile, the action happening more today, with her, in Whispers, than it has with any other woman in a long time.
“Great, thank you.”I admire her some more as she walks into the kitchen.For a woman of the land, she’s graceful, deliberate, sure of herself in a way that isn’t obvious.Like a quiet confidence.I’m finding it hard to look away from her, and she lifts her head to look at me quickly, catching me and pausing as our eyes meet.
My mouth curves, and in return, I get a small smile, her cheeks tinting pink before she goes back to what she’s doing.I huff a laugh to myself, my chest tingling, feeling like an excited teenager all over again.Peeling my eyes from her, I look at Kevin, who hasn’t moved from the sofa where he’s watching baseball on TV.I get the feeling he might be obsessed with it.Probably not the time to tell him I am part owner of one of the major league clubs.
Stepping into the kitchen, I ask, “Can I help with anything?”
“Oh, um… sure.Here, can you mix the gravy?”
When I pause, because I’ve never mixed gravy, she looks up at me.“You know how to mix gravy, right?”
“Pfft, sure.”I have no clue.But I step forward, taking the spoon from her, and start to whisk.I don’t miss her smile, and it’s doing something to my insides.“So law, baseball sponsor, and now professional gravy stirrer.My resume is growing.”
“Well, if you do gravy well, you’ll be promoted to chicken carver.”Chuckling lightly, she slices through the roast chicken with precision.
“Something tells me never to come between you and that knife…” I tease.
“You know what they say…” She toys with me, lips pursed and eyes on mine, and I think my grin is now permanent.I have no idea what I’m doing.I’ve never cooked with a woman before.Maybe that makes me an asshole, but it’s the truth.“A woman with a knife is just like her blade, dangerous if underestimated.”
I laugh when she winks, liking her snippets of humor, although I’m sure her words are accurate.
Too busy looking at her, hot gravy spills onto my shirt.“Shit.”
“Oh no, let me help.”She quickly grabs a damp cloth and steps closer.As she dabs at my chest, cleaning up the gravy, our bodies are almost touching.She registers the closeness at the same time, and her movements stop as she looks up.
“Sorry, I, um…”
“It’s okay.I’m the klutz.”I put my hand over the top of hers, where it still rests on my chest.
“It shouldn’t stain.”She sucks a deep breath, her chest pushing out and brushing my own.My lungs fill with her rose scent, the freshness nearly making me stumble.
“I was so focused on you and the knife, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Gravy can also be dangerous if underestimated.”She rolls her lips so she doesn’t laugh at me, and I chuckle, shaking my head as she steps away, my body instantly feeling the loss.
“Kevin, dinner!”Annabelle calls out as she dishes up what looks to be a mini feast.I grab the gravy, my one and only contribution, placing it on the table.“Come.Sit.”Her eyes sparkle as she looks at me, and I take a seat where she indicates.She sits at the head of the table and Kevin sits opposite me.
Looking at the meal presented, my stomach rumbles.I shouldn't be hungry; I normally don’t eat until late.But seeing the roast chicken, beans, fresh carrots, mashed potatoes, and gravy has my mouth watering all over again.I haven’t eaten a home-cooked meal like this in years.
“Kevin, honey.Say grace.”
I look up, surprised, as I see Annabelle and Kevin holding hands, and she offers me her other hand.It’s small, delicate, and although I know she works with her hands on the farm, her nails are neat, a soft pink polish coating them.As I place her hand in mine, I feel the softness of her skin, my own hand tingling at her touch.
