Till I Kissed You (32 page)

Regan disconnected after promising to let Monroe know how everything went.

On the drive to Fournette Designs, words garbled in her head, and she parked next to his truck without any clearer idea what she planned to say. Maybe for once she would come straight out with a truth he couldn't misinterpret. Three potent little words would work.

A BMW and a motorcycle were parked in front as well. She slipped out and stretched her neck and shoulders as if preparing for a physical confrontation.

She pushed open the shop door a few inches and stuck her head inside. No one was around. Stepping in, she smoothed her skirt down. Movement shadowed behind the window of the break room. She walked on her toes to keep the clacking of her shoes from echoing in the cavernous space.

A few feet from the break room, Sawyer's laugh rumbled, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Moving closer, she opened her mouth to call a greeting, but froze.

The same gorgeous woman he'd had dinner with a few weeks earlier stood in front of him touching his chest with a perfectly manicured hand. He was leaning against the counter, his pose relaxed, his feet and arms crossed, smiling down at her.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there. Seconds, minutes, hours lost in a spiraling black hole watching the woman touch him and watching him smile and laugh. A flashback of walking into his dorm room and seeing a naked woman pressed against him in the narrow twin bed, his roommates laughing behind her made heat flush through her.

No matter how much she loved him, she couldn't trust him. Couldn't expose herself to more of the same from him. Maybe her mother had been right. Was Sawyer Fournette using her to settle a score?

She pressed herself against the wall. The cement bricks seeped a welcome coolness through the heat of her humiliation. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, but all she could see were past and present colliding. A sick feeling oozed up from her stomach.

She ran-walked to the door, not caring this time whether she made noise or not. Gulps of warm air settled her stomach back where it belonged even though it tied itself into painful knots. Back in her car, she fumbled the key into the ignition. Away. She needed to get away.

She drove too fast down the narrow drive back to the main road. Cade's old truck met her around the last bend. She stomped both feet on the brake pedal. Two wheels skidded off the road into gravel, but she muscled her car around Cade's truck and didn't look back.

She didn't stop until she was back on her side of the river. Her phone stared at her from the passenger seat. A sense of betrayal had her scrolling through her contacts. The phone rang twice before Mr. Holcomb answered.

“I've thought more about your plan. Let's do it.”

“Are you sure?”

She wasn't sure about anything anymore. “I'll get you a check tomorrow.”

He whooped on the other end.

Regan hit the end button and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. What had she done?

*   *   *

Sawyer left Terry Lowe in the break room reviewing the finalized contracts and escaped to his engine. The woman wanted in his pants. While her flirting made him uncomfortable, he had to admire her tenacity, considering he'd turned her down once already. He needed to borrow some of her gumption and go confront Regan. Get everything out in the open.

Cade rounded the corner, drying his hands on a work towel. “What'd Regan want?”

Sawyer straightened. “Did she call?”

Cade tilted his head, his brow crunching. “She nearly ran me off the road on her way out of here. Surprised she didn't bust a tire.”

“I didn't even see her.”

“Were you out back or something?”

He pointed toward the break room. “No, I was … hellfire. I was attempting to discuss the contract with Terry, but she was more interested in discussing other things.”

“Like getting you naked?”

“Not in so many words, but yes. I'm trying not to outright offend her until the deal is set in stone.”

“You are just too damn charming and nice.” The disgust in Cade's voice tugged a smile from Sawyer in spite of the situation. “Let me handle Terry from here on out.”

“I don't know. Terry might set her sights on you next. Monroe's turned you into a smiling, whipped wimp.”

“Monroe might look all sweet and demure but the woman could take Terry down with one punch if she tried to put the moves on me.” Cade waggled his eyebrows, only confirming Sawyer's opinion.

“I feel like I'm having a flashback. What do I do? Explain to Regan that nothing happened?”

“She needs to learn to trust you. I'd make her come to you.”

Sawyer groaned. “It's more complicated than that.” He gave Cade an encapsulated version of events.

“Dude, really?” Cade threw his hands up. “Only one thing matters. Do you love her?”

“I'm not sure I've ever stopped loving her.”

Understanding flared in Cade's eyes. While Cade could be tough and closed-off, something of their father resided in his eyes and voice and attitude. “Then you have to go get her, don't you?”

If Cade wouldn't think he was losing his mind, he would give his brother a long, hard hug. God, he'd missed him the years he'd been gone. Missed his no-nonsense advice and steadying force.

“I would run by the hardware store for knee pads though.” The hint of dark humor was all Cade. “You're going to need to grovel your way out of this one. Take the rest of the afternoon off and handle your shit.”

Cade walked off, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

Was his brother right? Of course, he was. Sawyer washed up in the shop sink and headed out. Cade was in the break room. Their eyes met for a second. Cade tipped his chin and transferred his attention back to Terry, smiling and murmuring something Sawyer couldn't hear.

He drove over the steel-girded bridge and spotted her at the gazebo talking to Nash Hawthorne. He parked next to Nash's Defender and took a few seconds for a silent pep talk. He could do this. It was only his heart and future happiness on the line.

Regan and Nash watched him approach, her face unreadable. He would have preferred hurt or anger over coldness. It reminded him too much of the months after their breakup. She had told him she'd been as broken as he had been during that time even if it hadn't showed. Maybe she was feeling the same now.

“I need to talk to you.” He hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

“I guess you heard. It's going to happen. No use in talking me out of it. Nash thinks it's a great idea, don't you?'

Nash sidestepped away and looked at his bare wrist. “Wow, look at the time. I need a drink, so I'll let you two discuss things and stuff.”

Regan huffed at his back as he jogged toward the walking bridge, probably headed for Tally's gym.

“What idea does Nash think is great, and I'm supposed to know about?”

“The jambalaya.”

“What jambalaya?”

“The crayfish jambalaya Cottonbloom, Mississippi, will be selling during the Tomato Festival.” Her chin rose and her eyes flashed.

“What the hell, Regan! Where are you getting the crayfish?”

“Mr. Holcomb's cousin down in Macon. It's going to be delicious. Way better than some pathetic po'boys.”

She was probably right. Ripe tomatoes and fresh-caught crayfish made for the best jambalaya. She'd reneged on their agreement for the same reasons she'd cut him out of her life for so many years. She was hurt and she cared about him. At least the years had left him with that small amount of wisdom.

As maddening and frustrating as she could be, he loved her. “Cade told me you stopped by the shop.”

She crossed her arms and shrugged, looking somewhere over his shoulder.

“I'm not sure what you think you saw or why you hightailed it off, but Terry Lowe is a customer.”

“You're working on a reputation for excellent customer service.” Her eyes flitted to his for a second. He recognized the pain. “She's very pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you are.” The compliment landed with the weight of an anvil. “You have to trust me, Regan.”

“Why? We aren't in a relationship. You made it perfectly clear you only wanted to have sex with me. Maybe that's what you want with her too?”

He ran a hand through his hair and sent his gaze skyward.

“Don't you roll your eyes at me.” She shoved his shoulder. “Why should I trust you when all you do is betray it?”

He clenched his teeth together. Anger finally won out. “I didn't sleep with that girl in college, and I won't ever sleep with Terry Lowe. I feel like an ass for treating you like I did the other night. Your mother—” He bit off his words. No use in blaming the woman. He'd been the one to screw up. “You should trust me because I love you. I loved you then and I love you now and I've never stopped. Think about that and come find me if you think you might love me and can trust me. If you can't then don't bother.”

He stormed back to his truck and took off back over the bridge. Only one thing would soothe him. The river.

 

Chapter Twenty-two

Sawyer drove off leaving her ripped apart and vulnerable. He loved her. Had always loved her. Even spoken in anger, she sensed the truth behind his words. Or maybe because they had been spoken in anger, she believed him. She had broken her promise to him, yet he still loved her.

Something else he said niggled at her. Her mother. What about her mother?

She tore through town and pulled into her parents' driveway behind her mother's high-end Mercedes. Not bothering with the bell, she opened the door to Donny and Marie yipping and jumping around her legs.

They trailed her into the sunroom where her mother was lazing on a couch, flipping through a glossy fashion magazine. “Did you say something to Sawyer?”

Her mother looked up while turning another page. “He stopped by on Sunday while I was deadheading roses. Is that what you mean?”

“What did you say to him, Mother?”

“Only the truth.”

The truth as her mother saw it, no doubt. “What exactly did you say?”

“That you were reliving your wild past with him. Isn't that about right?”

“It's nowhere near right. We are—were—
are
trying to build something new. I love him, Mother. He's a good man. I'm sorry if he's not what you envisioned for me, but he's what I want. What I've always wanted.”

Her mother slapped the magazine shut and swung her legs off the couch. “What about Andrew Tarwater?”

“What about him?”

“You two went on a date recently. Did it not go well?”

“It wasn't a date; it was a business dinner to discuss refurbishing the Tarwater offices.”

Her mother huffed a sigh and smiled a smile that sent the hairs on the back of her neck up. “Regan-honey, you could have Andrew Tarwater eating out of your hand and a ring on your finger by New Year's if you put your mind to it. You and he would make a fine match.”

“Ohmigod, will you listen to yourself? You don't even care what I want. What's best for me. All you care about is yourself. You poisoned me against Sawyer because of your prejudices. And then you tried to do the same to him.” Thunder rumbled in the distance. A purple stain was spreading across the sky to the west.

She headed toward the door, her mother and the dogs behind her. Her mother grabbed her arm, the perfectly manicured French tips in contrast to the veined tendons of her hand. Even her mother couldn't fight the march of time.

“Don't go. Wait until the storm passes through. It looks bad.” Her mother sounded truly worried. But Regan couldn't be sure it wasn't another one of her mother's manipulation tactics.

She stared at the gathering storm and muttered, “I wasted too much time already.”

She turned her car toward the state line. Too many wasted years between then and now. Too many years where she'd been treading water. If only she'd been stronger then and stood up to her mother. If only she'd given Sawyer a chance to explain.

He loved her. The tingly warmth started somewhere in her chest and spread outward. He had always loved her. She believed him. Trusted him. Would he believe her? Could
he
trust
her
not to turn her back again?

She turned down his long driveway, her little car shimmying with crosscurrents of air. The sky had darkened further, turning an eerie purple-black. The bright sunshine of the morning was engulfed, giving the impression of twilight even though it was only late afternoon.

His truck was out front. The wind tore the car door out of her hands and bounced it open. Pine needles and leaves whipped around her legs with enough force to sting her bare skin. She kicked off her heels and ran around the side of the house to pound on the door. No answer.

She made for the metal shed, the sides shaking from the force of the wind. Empty. She ran back outside and looked up. The storm was approaching too furiously, the color and darkness ominous portents. It didn't feel like a normal thunderstorm. Real fear wobbled her knees.

The wind gusted around her with renewed vigor, the drop in air pressure making her feel like she was running through a void. Tornadoes were the boogeymen of her youth. The stories and drills they practiced in school were embedded in her mind. It had been two decades since one had hit either side of Cottonbloom.

Where was Sawyer? Was he safe? Please God, let him be safe. Panic turned her movements clumsy. She stumbled and stubbed her big toe against a root on her run back to the house. She felt like Dorothy from
The
Wizard of Oz
. The back door was unlocked. She called his name, even though she sensed the emptiness.

The creaking of the old house didn't settle her nerves. She'd seen pictures of houses strewn like matchsticks in the wake of a tornado. She stopped and considered her options. Driving home wasn't one of them. Being caught in any car in a tornado was bad. In her Bug, it could prove disastrous. No ground-floor door revealed steps that might lead to a basement.