Page 57 of The Inevitable Us

After using the restroom and washing my hands, I walk back to see Sawyer talking to a gray-haired man in khaki cargo shorts with two small school-aged children. Curiously, I walk up to them, the older gentleman’s back facing me. Sawyer nods at me. “Baby Girl, come say hi. Thompson, you remember my girlfriend, Rosalie?”

I move around to Sawyer, and he drapes his arm around my waist possessively, his fingers curled casually near my hip. “Rosalie, you remember Thompson?”

My head whirls up to see Thompson, my dad’s former head of security, looking at me with saucered eyes. His body is tense with recognition as he looks at me slack-jawed. “I um, I didn’t know you were in Knoxville, Rosalie?” he asks, stammering.

It’s been five years since Thompson retired, leaving Creekman as his replacement. He’s put on a little weight since his retirement, and it looks as if the last of his once blonde hair is silver-gray and thinning.

“Yes, I’m here attending the culinary institute.” My heart’s palpitating in my ears when I look up at Sawyer, who’s looking down at his former boss with complete indifference to his shock.

“Well, err umm, I’d better get the grandkids to McDonald’s before they start screaming. It was nice running into you,” he says not at all convincingly. He grabs the young children’s hands and gives Sawyer a glower of disapproval before walking away.

“Don’t let him upset you, Rosalie,” Sawyer tells me. “He probably thinks I’m still working for your father. Sleeping with a client is a big no.”

I bite the inside of my lips and clear my throat, trying to will away the sting of disapproval.

His hand goes up to my neck, the other to the small of my back. “Let’s go get our seats,” he says, softer this time. “Then I need to spend the rest of tonight inside you.”

I eye Sawyer warily for the first half of the movie, but he sits in the seat next to me, his arm draped over my shoulder, completely unbothered.

Whenwereturnhome,I notice the lights were left on inside the cabin, but the new curtains were drawn. I could have sworn I’d turned them off before I left.

The main house is lit up, most of the other staff crazily preparing for the trip. “There are some issues I need to take care of before I can come to bed, Baby Girl,” Sawyer says with a flat-lined grimace. “I’ll come to lie down with you when I’m done. Unfortunately, I think my time sneaking away is done. My phone was going off like crazy in my pocket the whole way here.”

I nod and step up on my tippy toes to kiss him, “Wake me up when you come to bed?”

He smiles on my lips. “I’d already planned on it.”

He leaves me on the cabin’s porch, but I watch as he walks towards the main house. The moonlight cast shadows from oak trees onto the water, a slight coolness blowing the leaves, hinting at rain.

When I shower and get ready for classes tomorrow, I throw on one of Sawyer’s t-shirts, wanting the closeness with him.

He wakes me up just after I fall asleep, the sound of the rain hitting the metal roof the only noise other than our breathless words as he brings us both to orgasm. He collapses next to me, our legs still wrapped around one another. He stops to catch his breath, nuzzling his nose against my neck while my own heart starts to slow to a normal rhythm.

“You’re not my girlfriend, Baby Girl,” he says softly in the moonlit room out of nowhere. My body tenses at his words when he kisses my forehead soothingly. “You’re myeverything.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Rosalie

Myinstructorisstandingover me with his arms crossed and a look of stern disapproval on his face. “You really should be practicing your cuts more often, Rosalie. Practice this weekend. Go to the market and get twenty pounds of potatoes and 2 large bags of onions, celery, and bell peppers. Consider that your homework. You need to pick up speed.”

I look down at my tidy piles of onions, celery, and bell peppers I’ve chopped for today’s kitchen lab. My pile is one-fifth the size of the others.

The business classes are going well, and I enjoy them, as are the language classes at the culinary institute. Despite learning the front-end stuff (polishing, serving), I can keep up. Bakery lab is fun, and I enjoy it. But the kitchen lab? It’s a nightmare.

I spend the next hour cleaning and sanitizing my station before carefully wrapping up my knives and walking to Sawyer’s SUV. He’d been right about driving in mud in my car after rain, and every day since Sawyer’s left, I’ve trulyneededto drive his SUV.

I stop at the market and begrudgingly buy bags and bags of potatoes and other vegetables. The last thing I want to spend my weekend doing is chopping. My hands are already sore from working all day and will be even worse tonight after I finish with the animals.

Just as I’m jumping into the shower, Rory calls, and I send it to voicemail. Josie told me that he’s working for a guy named Declan. I’d asked him if he was lonely living alone since my parents were gone for so long, but he’d said he was always working, rarely alone, and making good money for Declan.

Later that evening, I’m feeling guilty for not answering, so I send a quick text:

Rosalie: How’s life?

Rory: Busy working. Learning a lot from Declan. How’s school?

Rosalie: It’s been crazy busy. I fall into bed tired every night on days I work. I got a job on a ranch nearby.

---