Worth The Effort (The Worth Series Book 4: A Copper Country Romance) (28 page)

“What? Too fast? Does the idea of living together freak you out?”

The idea of living with a man she’d only known a few weeks
should
freak her out. But it was Sawyer, and she shook her head. “No. Not really. It doesn’t feel fast to you?”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s been ten years since I’ve felt like this about anybody.” He kissed her lips. “I’d say it’s moving too slow.”

He left soon after, with a determination to have most of the flooring laid by the time she came up to see the house on Friday night after work.

So she was surprised to see him walk into the office at three on Thursday afternoon. Apparently so was Andy, who came out of his office upon seeing Sawyer.
 

“I thought you were taking today and tomorrow off.”

“So did I. You mean he didn’t call you, too?” Sawyer asked Andy as he walked down the row of cubes. He peeked in Deni’s as he passed, but she was at one of the collaboration tables at the end of the room, near Andy.

“Hey,” he said softly to her.

“Hey,” she said back, and then put her head down to try to hide the flush that was no doubt turning her face red.

“Who didn’t call me?” Andy asked him, ignoring the look that had passed between her and Sawyer.

“Pete Ryan. He called me an hour ago and said he needed to see us right away. Told me to meet him here at three.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound good. He didn’t say anything else?”

“No. I tried to get more from him, but he said he was leaving for Detroit at four and needed to take a meeting first.”

“Well, shit.”

“Why shit?” Deni asked. Others were starting to gather around them now. At hearing Petey’s name, Charlie and Mac had come over and were giving her a questioning look, which she returned with a shrug.

“If he’s heading out of town, he’s probably going to tell us they’re not going to do the project. Hell, maybe he’s moving back to Detroit after all.”

Deni had seen the looks that had passed between Alison and Petey—he wasn’t going too far away from her.

“Well, we’ll know soon enough,” Mac said from near the window. “He just pulled up.”

When the hulking figure entered the office area and then broke into a grin and lifted high a bottle of champagne in each of his hands, the whole group broke into laughter and applause.

His smile stayed on as he walked the length of the building toward them.

“Let’s build this fucker.”

An hour later, with the initial agreement signed and the champagne gone, Petey Ryan left the building with as much pomp as he’d entered.

“We’re back late on Sunday. I’ll call you guys Monday morning to start rolling.”

Lots of handshakes all around, and then he was gone.

They’d been awarded a lot of jobs at Summers and Beck, most much larger than an indoor driving range, but Deni didn’t remember having such elation before.

“Why don’t we all call it a day,” Andy said. “Nobody’s going to get any more work done, anyway.” He clapped his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder and said, “Let me buy you a drink, partner. Just like we used to when we got a job.”

She saw the hesitation on Sawyer’s face. But then his expression relaxed. “Yeah, that’d be good. I’d like that.”

“Let me get my coat,” Andy said, returning to his office, leaving Deni and Sawyer alone in the conference room where they’d moved the celebration.

“Hey, this should only take a couple of hours. How about if I swing by after we’re done and we have our own celebration?”

“What about the floors?”

He waved a hand in the air and then bent over to where she was sitting. “Screw the floor, it’ll be there tomorrow. I can’t see you and then not…
see
you, you know?”

Oh yes, she definitely knew.

“I’d like that,” she said. He smiled and started to lean in, but she gave him a warning look.

He sighed, but stood back up. “Later,” he whispered, his eyes dropping to her mouth.

“Yes,” she softly said, but he was already out the door.

She decided to pick up some champagne for when he came over, so she swung by Pat’s. She put two bottles in her cart and slowly made her way down the aisle, lost in thought.

And then she realized she wasn’t lost in thought but mired in the fog. It had closed in around her, and her brain was fuzzy and unfocused. Her arms could barely lift to the cart handle, and she started to move to the front of the store. She looked around her and saw she was in the section with the ready-made mashed potatoes. Oh, they looked so good to her. She threw a package into the cart. Then she took three more and placed them in, too. She turned and went back to the deli area to get a tub of the homemade mac and cheese. At the checkout area, she looked away as the woman at the register rang up her odd collection.

Just get home, just get home.

It was an effort to lift her arms to the steering wheel, and when she made it home, she almost left her two bags of groceries in the car, as the thought of carrying them down the steps suddenly seemed so daunting.

But the promise of warm mashed potatoes with butter generously applied made her summon up her strength, and she made it from the garage, down the stairs, into the house and to the kitchen. She put one of the packages of potatoes in the microwave and the rest of the items in the refrigerator. The champagne seemed foreign and unnecessary to her puzzled mind. And then she remembered Sawyer would be there soon.

She was still in her coat and boots. She was dripping melted snow all over her kitchen floor, but that seemed inconsequential. Pulling her phone out of her bag, she put it on speaker and dialed Sawyer as moved to the microwave. She took the potatoes out, peeled back the plastic, and stirred them up. Then she put them back for another two minutes—which seemed like a lifetime to her.

“Hey.” Sawyer’s voice came through the air to her. “I’m sorry. We’re just finishing up and then I’ll be—”

“No,” she said, perhaps a little shrilly. She couldn’t really seem to hear her voice very well. “That’s why I called. I’m beat. Why don’t you just stay with Andy and grab some dinner with him? I’ll see you tomorrow night like we planned.”

“Really, we’re settling the check right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m not mad, really. I just got tired all of a sudden. I think the late nights last week…the weekend…and then the adrenaline of this afternoon just caught up with me. I’m going to make an early night of it and catch up on some sleep.”

“Are you sure?”
 

“Yep. Have fun with Andy. Get going on those floors tomorrow, and I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’ll call you when I’m done with work and see what I can bring us for dinner.”

“Okay. Deni, are you okay? I mean—”

“Everything’s fine, Sawyer. Enjoy the night, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night,” she said quickly, and disconnected just as the bell on the microwave sounded.
 

H
er alarm pulled her out of deep sleep the next morning. Or, maybe it hadn’t, because when she sat up and really looked at her alarm, she realized she must have been hitting the snooze button for the last hour without really waking up.

Already ten minutes late for work, she made her way to the bathroom, staring down the crusty bowl of mashed potato dregs as she passed her bedside table.

She’d lost her tights somewhere along the line last night, but otherwise she was still wearing what she’d worn to work yesterday.
 

After using the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she turned on the shower and started peeling off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. She leaned against the bathroom counter waiting for the shower to heat up, still wearing her bra and panties.

And suddenly, it all just seemed like too much. Taking off her undergarments, getting wet, drying herself, and then having to—what? Put clothes back on again?

No, she couldn’t do it. Not today.
 

She turned the shower off and left the bathroom, her clothes still on the floor. Back in her bedroom, she found her comfiest sweats and pulled them on along with an old Tech sweatshirt. Then she wrapped her robe around herself and crawled back to bed.
 

Her cell was on the nightstand—apparently she’d brought it up with her last night out of habit—and she called the office.

“Sue,” she said when the older woman answered. “It’s Deni. I’m taking a sick day today.”

“Too much celebrating last night? That’s good, honey, you deserved it. Great job on the driving range.”

“Thanks. And I
wish
I were just hung over. But I’ve got some kind of bug or something. Didn’t even get to celebrate last night.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Sue said sympathetically, and Deni almost started to cry. “Well, you take care of yourself. Do you need anything taken care of here?”

“No. Nothing that can’t wait until Monday.”

“Okay. Can somebody bring something over to you? Medicine or soup or anything? I’m sure Charlie would be happy—”

“No, that’s okay. I’ve got stuff here. I’m good.” She thought of the packages of potatoes and mac and cheese. And, more importantly, whether she’d be willing to leave her bed to go downstairs and heat them up.

Would she even be able to?

“Okay, Deni, take care,” Sue said. Deni answered with another thanks, and they both hung up.

With Herculean effort, she made her way to the kitchen, where she deposited last night’s bowl in the sink and microwaved a new batch of potatoes, adding an extra spoonful of butter.

She’d sit at the light box and eat the potatoes and let the magic do its trick. Then she’d shower, and as long as she’d already called in sick, she’d get some stuff done around the house. Like tackling that good-sized pile of laundry.
 

Then she’d go up to Laurium and meet Sawyer this evening like they’d planned.

She took her new bowl of potatoes to the table, but sitting there, even to get the much-needed light rush, instead of lying in her bed seemed so tiring that she bypassed the table, and light box, altogether and made her way back upstairs.

The pile of laundry mocked her from the corner of her room as she wrapped herself up in her comforter and inhaled the potatoes. Ah, such smooth, creamy goodness that seemed to melt on her tongue and warm her insides.

Okay, change of plans. Instead of showering and getting stuff done, she’d just take a little nap.
Really
catch up on her sleep (apparently the fifteen-plus hours last night didn’t quite do the trick), and then shower and go meet Sawyer.

The laundry—and other chores—could wait another day.

She set the now-empty bowl on the nightstand, burrowed into her pile of blankets, and slept.

Again.

Chapter Twenty Six

Strive for perfection in everything you do. Take the best that exists and make it better. When it does not exist, design it.

~ Sir Henry Royce

W
hen Sawyer’s phone rang at six, he’d just finished showering and dressing after a long, dirty day of installing flooring. Seeing Deni’s name on the caller ID, he answered with a quick “Are you running late? ’Cause so am I, so don’t—”

“No, it’s not that,” she said. Her voice sounded odd, like maybe she’d just woken up or something. “Well, yes, I’m running late. But…I need to cancel, Sawyer.”

A shiver ran through him. Two nights in a row she was canceling on him. One—okay she was tired and it’d been a long week. But two? And a Friday night at that?

“What’s going on, Deni?” he asked in his best “cut the bullshit” voice.

“Nothing. I’m just tired—”

“You were tired last night. Didn’t you get any sleep?”

He heard what sounded like a small snort on her end. “Yeah, I did,” she said.

And then he remembered the SAD. “But you’re still tired?” Understanding now.

“A little,” she said, her voice sounding small and frail. Not like the Deni he knew.

“Were you really busy at the office today? Did that wear you out?”

“I called in sick this morning.”

Shit. If he’d been in the office, he’d have known that. Instead, he’d wanted to get the flooring laid so he’d be that much closer to finishing this house and getting back to the office on a regular basis.

And back to Deni.

“And are you sick? I mean…umm…like a flu or something?”

“No, it’s not that. I kind of hit a wall.”

“Metaphorically speaking?” Visions of her actually hitting a wall—perhaps in a car—quickly drifted through his head. But no, she was calling him herself and was obviously okay.

She chuckled. “Yes, metaphorically. Although my body kind of feels like it’s been thrown around a little. Alison warned me that this might happen. That there might be a day or two where I’d just kind of shut down. There’s nothing to be worried about. I just kind of have to sleep it off.”