Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer

Jordan stepped up and steered them both down the hall as if they were nitwits who needed direction. “Nonsense. Go take your soak. You’ll feel better afterward.” He limped pathetically as he walked, and Honey had the sneaking suspicion he did it on purpose, just to rattle her, not because she’d actually hurt him.

They were a strange lot—but she liked them anyway.

WARMWATER covered her to her chin, and she sighed in bliss. Finally, she felt clean again.

Where Sawyer had found the bubble bath, she didn’t know, but she seriously doubted any of his brothers would lay claim to it. She smiled, wondering what they all thought of her. From the little bit she’d seen of them, they had a lot of similarities, yet they were each so different, too.

Of course, that might make sense considering their mother was evidently remarried. Honey couldn’t imagine marrying once, much less twice. After the way her fiancé had used her, she wanted nothing to do with matrimony.

“You all right in there?”

“I’m fine. Go away.”

“Just checking.”

She smiled again. Sawyer had been hovering outside her door for the entire five minutes she’d been in the tub. He was something of a mother hen, which probably accounted for his chosen profession. He was meant to be a doctor. Everything about him spoke of a natural tendency to nurture. She liked it; she liked him. Too much.

The ultrahot kiss… Well, she just didn’t know what to think of it. Her lips still tingled and she licked them, savoring the memory of his taste. She’d almost married Alden, yet he’d never kissed her like that. And she’d certainly never thought about him the way she thought about Sawyer.

She’d known Alden two years and yet had never really wanted him. Not the way she wanted Sawyer after less than two days.

What would have happened if Jordan hadn’t interrupted? Anything, nothing? She simply wasn’t familiar enough with men to know. Not that familiarity would have helped, because she knew, even in her feverish state and even without a wealth of experience, Sawyer was different from most men. He was unique, a wonderful mix of pure rugged masculinity and incredible sensitivity.

He’d run the bathwater for her, placed a mat on the floor and fresh towels at hand and stacked her cleaned jeans and T-shirt on the toilet seat. All without mentioning the kiss and without getting too close to her. After he’d gotten everything ready, he’d looked at her, shook his head, then left with the admonition she should take as long as she liked, but not so long she got dizzy or overtired herself.

She intended to linger just a few minutes more. In all likelihood, the brothers would hold dinner for her. From all indications they enjoyed the novelty of having a woman underfoot and wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to make her the center of attention again, as if she alone was the sole entertainment. She wasn’t used to it, but she supposed she’d manage. For now, they were probably still organizing their own bath schedule, but how long would that take? Alden had always taken very short showers, his bathing a business, not a pleasure, whereas she’d always loved lingering in the water, sometimes soaking for hours.

She drained the tub and stepped out onto the mat. The steamy bath had relieved her throat some, and her muscles felt less achy after the soak. The towel Sawyer had provided was large and soft, and she wrapped herself in it, wishing she could just go back to bed and sleep for hours but knowing she wouldn’t. She wanted to learn more about the brothers, she wanted to see the rest of the house and she needed to decide what to do.

She saw the edge of her peach panties showing from under the shirt, and she blushed. Somehow, the fact that Sawyer was now familiar with her underwear made their entire situation even more intimate, which meant more dangerous if she was honest with herself. How long would it take someone to figure out she was here? In a town this small, surely news traveled fast. Any strangers in town would have no problem finding her.

If she were smart, she’d forget her attraction to Sawyer, which weakened her resolve, and hightail it away as soon as possible.

“You about done in there?”

There was a slightly wary command to Sawyer’s tone now. She grinned and called out, “Be right there. I’m getting dressed.”

Silence vibrated between them, and Honey could just imagine where his thoughts had gone. She bit her bottom lip. Sawyer was too virile for his own good.

She heard him clear his throat. “Do you need any help?”

She almost choked, but ended up coughing as she finished smoothing her T-shirt into place. She pulled the door open and said to his face, “Nope.”

His gaze moved over her slowly, from the top of her head, where she had braided her long hair and then knotted it to keep it dry, to her T-shirt and down her jeans to her bare feet.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know what happened to my sandals.”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

He shook himself, then met her steady gaze. “Yeah. One fell off in the lake and sank. The other might still be in your car—I dunno. At the time, I wasn’t overly worried about it, not with an unconscious woman in my arms.”

“Ah.”

“You’re not wearing a bra.”

“You can tell?” She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and started to go back into the bathroom to look for herself in the mirror. Sawyer caught her.

He slowly pulled her arms away and held them to her sides. She didn’t stop him. Everything she’d just told herself about staying detached faded into oblivion under his hot, probing gaze.

There they stood in the middle of the hallway, only a foot apart, and somehow fear, sickness and worry didn’t exist. All she could think of was whether or not he’d kiss her again, and if he found her satisfactory. She’d always been pleased with her body, but then, she wasn’t a man.

In a hoarse tone, he noted, “You have goose bumps.” Gently, his big, rough hands chaffed up and down her bare arms.

“The…the house is cold.”

He lifted one broad shoulder. “We keep the air-conditioning pretty low this time of year. Men are naturally warmer than women. Especially when the woman is so slight. I’ll get one of my shirts for you to put on.”

Excitement at the way he watched her made it impossible to speak. She nodded instead.

“You two going to stand there all day gawking? I’m starved.”

Sawyer swiveled his head to look at Gabe. He still held Honey’s arms. “How can you be starving when you didn’t do anything all day?”

“I cooked rolls this morning, fixed your leak, then visited three women. That’s a busy day in anyone’s book.” He grinned, then asked, “Should I just drag the table in here so we can all gather in the hallway? Is that what we’re doing?”

Sawyer narrowed his gaze at his brother, but there was no menace in the look. “I have an appointment with Darlene tomorrow so she can get her flu shot. Maybe I’ll mention your fondness for Mississippi mud pie. I hear Darlene’s quite a cook.”

Gabe took a step back, his grin replaced with a look of pure horror. “You fight dirty, Sawyer, you know that?”

Honey was amazed at the amount of grudging respect in Gabe’s tone, as if fighting dirty impressed him. And then he stomped away. Sawyer laughed.

She wondered if she would ever understand this unique clan of men. She looked up at Sawyer. “What in the world was that all about?”

A half smile tilted his mouth. “Darlene has the hots for Gabe and she’s looking to get married. She’s been chasing him pretty hard for a while. Gabe has this old-fashioned sense of gallantry toward women, so he can’t quite bring himself to come right out and tell her to leave him alone. He remains cautiously polite, and she remains determined.”

“So if you mentioned a pie…”

“She’d be here every day with one.” He grinned again and gently started her on her way. He moved slowly to accommodate her. The bath had tired her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. Being sick or weak wasn’t an easy concept to accept. Not for Honey.

“Why doesn’t Gabe like her?”

“He likes her fine. She’s a very attractive woman, beautiful even. Gabe went through school with her. I sometimes think that’s the problem for him. He knows all the women around here so well. Gabe doesn’t want to get serious about anyone, so he tries to avoid the women who are too obvious.”

“Darlene’s obvious?”

Sawyer shrugged. “Where Gabe’s concerned, they all are. Darlene was just the first name to come to mind.”

“Then she won’t really be here tomorrow?”

“Nope.” He put his arm around her waist and offered his support. “Come on, let’s get that shirt and get to dinner so the savages can eat. If I leave them hungry too long, they’re liable to turn on each other.”

SAWYERWATCHEDHER nibble delicately on her meal. And he watched his brothers watch her, amused that they were all so distracted by her. She looked uncomfortable with all the notice, but she didn’t stomp on any more toes.

He doubted she had the energy for that. Her face was pale, her eyes dark with fatigue. Yet she refused to admit it. She had a lot of backbone, he’d give her that. As soon as she finished eating, he planned to tuck her back up in bed where she belonged.

He sat across from her—a deliberate choice so he could watch her. Gabe sat beside him, Casey sat beside her, with Morgan and Jordan at the head and foot of the table.

She’d been all round eyes and female amazement as she’d looked at the house on the way to the kitchen. Her appreciation warmed him. Most women who got through the front door were bemused with the styling of the house, all exposed pine and high ceilings and masculine functionality. The house wasn’t overly excessive, but it was certainly comfortable for a family of large men. It had been his father’s dream home, and his mother had readily agreed to it. At least, that’s how she liked to tell it.

Sawyer grinned, because in truth, he knew there were few things his mother ever did readily. She was a procrastinator and liked to think things over thoroughly. Unlike his guest, who’d barreled through his fence and landed in his lake and then proceeded to try to slug him.

Sawyer noticed Morgan staring at him, and he wiped the grin off his face.

He returned his gaze to Honey and saw her look around the large kitchen. They never used the dining room, not for daily meals. But the kitchen was immense, one of the largest rooms in the house, and the place where they all seemed to congregate most often. For that reason they had a long pine table that could comfortably seat eight, as well as a short bar with three stools that divided the eating area from the cooking area. Pots hung on hooks, accessible, and along the outside wall there was a row of pegs that held everything from hats and jackets to car and truck keys. The entire house had black checked curtains at the windows, but the ones in the kitchen were never closed. With the kitchen on the same side of the house as his bedroom, there was always a view of the lake. His mother had planned it that way because, she claimed, looking at the lake made the chore of doing dishes more agreeable. After they’d gotten older and all had to take their turn, they’d agreed. Then they’d gotten a dishwasher, but still there were times when one or more of them would be caught there, drinking a glass of milk or snacking and staring at the placid surface of the lake.

Honey shifted, peeking up through her lashes to find a lot of appreciative eyes gazing at her. She glanced back down with a blush. She was an enticing mix of bravado and shyness, making demands one minute, pink-cheeked the next.

He liked seeing his shirt on her, this one a soft, worn flannel in shades of blue that did sexy things for her eyes. And he liked the way her heavy hair half tumbled down her nape, escaping the loose knot and braid, with silky strands draping her shoulders.

She didn’t look as chilled, and he wondered if her nipples were still pebbled, if they pressed against his shirt.

His hand shook and he dropped his fork, taking the attention away from Honey. To keep his brothers from embarrassing him with lurid comments on his state of preoccupation, he asked Honey, “How come your car was filled with stuff, but no clothes?”

She swallowed a tiny bite of chicken and shrugged. She’d drunk nearly a full glass of tea but only picked at her food. “I left in a hurry. And that stuff was already in my car.”

Sawyer glanced around and saw the same level of confusion on his brothers’ faces that he felt.

Morgan pushed his empty plate away and folded his arms on the edge of the table. “Why was the stuff already in your car?”

She coughed, drank some tea, rubbed her forehead. Finally she looked at Morgan dead on. “Because I hadn’t unloaded it yet.” She aligned her fork carefully beside her plate and asked in her low, rough voice, “Why did you decide to become a sheriff?”

He looked bemused for just a moment, the customary scowl gone from his face. “It suited me.” His eyes narrowed and he asked, “What do you mean you hadn’t unloaded it? Unloaded it from where?”

“I’d just left my fiancé that very week. All I’d unloaded out of the car were my clothes and the things I needed right away. Before I could get the rest of the boxes out, I had to leave again. So the stuff was still in there. What do you mean, being a sheriff suits you? In what way?”

Her question was momentarily ignored while a silence as loud as a thunderclap hovered over the table. No one moved. No one spoke. All the brothers were watching Sawyer.

He drew a low breath. “She’s not engaged anymore.”

Gabe looked surprised. “She’s not?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Morgan demanded. “What happened?”

Before Sawyer could form an answer, Honey turned very businesslike. “What do you mean, being a sheriff suits you?”

A small, ruthless smile touched Morgan’s mouth as he caught on to her game. He leaned forward. “I get to call the shots since I’m the sheriff. People have to do what I say, and I like it. Why did you leave your fiancé?”

“I found out he didn’t love me. And what makes you think people have to obey you? Do you mean you lord your position over them? You take advantage?”

“On occasion. Did you love your fiancé?”

“As it turns out…no. What occasions?”

Morgan didn’t miss a beat. “Like the time I knew Fred Barker was knocking his wife around, but she wouldn’t complain. I found him drunk in town and locked him up. Every time I catch him drinking, I run him through the whole gambit of sobriety tests. And I find a reason to heavily fine him when I can’t stick him in jail. He found out drinking was too expensive, and sober, he doesn’t abuse his wife.” He tilted his head. “If you didn’t love the guy, why the hell were you engaged to him in the first place?”

“For reasons of my own. If you—”

“Uh-uh. Not good enough, honey. What reasons?”

“None of your business.”

His voice became silky and menacing. “You’re afraid to tell me?”

“No.” She stared down her nose at him. Even with dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and her hair more down than up, the look was effectively condescending. “I just don’t like being provoked. And you’re doing it deliberately.”

Morgan burst out laughing—a very rare occurrence—and dropped back in his chair. The way Jordan and Gabe stared at him, amazed, only made him laugh harder.

Sawyer appreciated the quick way she turned the tables on his dominating brother. It didn’t happen often, and almost never with women. Evidently, Morgan had been amused by her, too, because he could be the most ruthless bastard around when it suited him. Sawyer was glad he hadn’t had to intervene. He wouldn’t have let Morgan badger her, but he had been hoping Morgan could get some answers.

He found Honey could be very closemouthed when it suited her. It amazed him that she could look almost pathetically frail and weak one moment, then mean as a junkyard dog the next.

Gabe waved his fork. “Morgan does everything deliberately. It’s annoying, but it does make him a good sheriff. He doesn’t react off the cuff, if you know what I mean.”

Jordan looked at Sawyer. “Not to change the subject—”

Morgan snorted. “As if you could.”

“—but do we have anything for dessert?”

“Yeah.” Sawyer watched Honey as he answered, aware of her new tension. She wasn’t crazy about discussing her personal life, but he had no idea how much of it had to do with her claimed threats or the possibility of a lingering affection for her ex. His jaw tightened, and he practically growled, “Frosted brownies.”

Jordan sat back. “They’re no good?”

“They’re fine. And in case none of you noticed, there’s a new pig in the barnyard.”

Honey started, the tension leaving her as confusion took its place. “A pig?”

“Yeah.” Casey finished off a glass of milk, then poured another. He was a bottomless pit, and growing more so each day. “Some of the families can’t afford to pay cash, so they pay Dad in other ways. It keeps us Adam’s apple high in desserts, which is good, but sometimes we end up with more farm animals than we can take care of. We have horses, and they’re no problem, but the goats and pigs and stuff, they can be a nuisance.”

Jordan looked at Sawyer. “The Mensons could use a pig. They had to sell off a lot of stock lately to build a new barn after theirs almost collapsed from age.”

Sawyer continued to watch Honey, concerned that she was pushing herself too hard. At the moment, she didn’t look ill so much as astonished. He grinned. Buckhorn was a step back in time, a close community that worked together, which he liked, but it would take some getting used to for anyone out of the area. “Feel free, Jordan. Hell, the last thing I want is another animal to take care of.”

“They’ll insist on paying something, but I’ll make it real cheap.”

“Trade for some of Mrs. Menson’s homemade rock candy. Tell her I give it away to the kids when they come, and I’m nearly out.”

“Good idea.”

Honey looked around the table at all of them as Casey went to the counter to get the brownies. Her face was so expressive, even before she spoke, he knew she was worried. “You know everyone around here?”

With a short nod, Sawyer confirmed her suspicions. “We know them, and most people in the surrounding areas. Buckhorn only boasts seven hundred people, give or take a couple dozen or so.”

Suddenly she blurted out, “Have you told anyone about me?” and Sawyer knew she was talking to everyone, not just him. What the hell was she so afraid of?

Casey dropped a brownie on the side of her plate, but she barely seemed to notice. Her hands were clenched together on the edge of the table while she waited for an answer.

“Dad told me not to say anything to anyone,” Casey offered, when no one else spoke up. “So far, I’d say no one knows about you.”

“Why do you care?” Sawyer waited, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him a damn thing. “Is it because you think these people you claim want to hurt you might follow you here?”

Morgan, still lounging back in his chair, rubbed his chin. “I could run a check on you, you know.”

She snorted over that. “If you can, then you already have. But you didn’t find anything, did you?”

He shrugged, disgruntled by her response to what had amounted to a threat. She didn’t threaten easily.

Jordan leaned forward. “You say someone is after you. Could it be this fiancé of yours?”

“Ex-fiancé,” Sawyer clarified, then suffered through the resultant snorts and snickers from his demented brothers.

“I thought so at first. He…well, he wasn’t happy that I broke things off. He was actually pretty nasty about it, if you want the truth.”

“Truth would be nice.”

She glared at Sawyer so ferociously, he almost smiled. But not quite.

“I think it wounded his pride or something,” she explained. “But regardless of how he carried on, my father is certain it couldn’t be him.”

“Why?”

“If you’d ever met Alden, you’d know he doesn’t have a physically aggressive bone in his body. He’d hardly indulge in a dangerous chase. He’s ambitious, intelligent, one of my father’s top men. And my father pointed out how concerned Alden is with appearances and that he’d hardly be the type to cause a scene or run the risk of making the news.” She shrugged. “That’s what my father likes most about him.”

Sawyer curled his lip, more angered at her father’s lack of support than anything else. “Alden? He sounds like a preppy.”

“He is a preppy. Very into the corporate image and climbing the higher social ladder, though I didn’t always know that. My father scoffed at the idea that Alden would chase me because regardless of his temper, I wouldn’t be that important to him in his grand scheme of things.”

He watched her face and knew she was holding something back, but what? Sawyer pushed her, hoping to find answers. “Even though you walked out on him?”

“I left, I didn’t walk out.”

“What the hell’s the difference?”

She sighed wearily. “You make it sound like I staged a dramatic exit. It wasn’t like that at all. I found out he didn’t care about me, I packed up my stuff, wrote him a polite note and left.”

Her body was tense, her expression carefully neutral. Sawyer narrowed his gaze. “Why did he ask you to marry him in the first place if he didn’t care about you?”

She closed up on him, her face going blank, and Sawyer knew she still didn’t trust him, didn’t trust any of them. It made him so angry his hands curled into fists. He wasn’t the violent type, but right now, he would relish one of Morgan’s barroom brawls.

Sawyer surged to his feet to pace. He wanted to shake her; he wanted to pull her up against his body, feel her softness and kiss her silly again until she stopped resisting him, until she stopped fighting. He tightened his thighs, trying for an ounce of logic. “How in hell are we supposed to figure this out if you won’t even answer a few simple questions?”

Morgan leaned back and stacked his hands behind his head. Jordan propped his chin on a fist. Gabe lifted one brow.

“You’re not supposed to figure anything out.” Honey drew a deep breath, watching him steadily. “You’re just supposed to let me go.”

CHAPTER SIX

SAWYER’S DARK EYES glittered with menace, and his powerful body tensed.

Watching him with an arrested expression, Morgan murmured, “Fascinating.”

Jordan, also watching, said, “Shh.”

Honey turned to Gabe, ignoring the other brothers, and especially Sawyer’s astounding reaction to her refusal of help. She couldn’t look at him without hurting, without wishing things could be different. She’d known him almost no time at all, yet she felt as if she’d known him forever. He’d managed, without much effort, to forge a permanent place in her memory. After she was gone, she’d miss him horribly.

Gabe grinned at her. It seemed they all loved to be provoking, but she wasn’t up to another round. All the questions on Alden had shaken her. She’d tried to answer without telling too much, juggling her replies so that Sawyer might be appeased but at the same time wouldn’t learn too much. Alden had been so vicious about her refusal to come back to him, to continue on with the marriage, she didn’t dare involve anyone else in her troubles, especially not Sawyer, until she better understood the full risk, and why it existed in the first place.

She’d been looking blankly at Gabe for some time now, and she cleared her throat. “Does your handyman expertise extend to cars?”

“Sure.”

Jordan kicked him under the table. Honey knew it, but in light of everything else they’d done, it didn’t seem that strange or important.

While Gabe rubbed his shin and glared daggers at Jordan, Sawyer stalked over to her side of the table. With every pump of her heart, she was aware of him standing so close. She could feel his heat, breathe his scent, unique above and beyond the other brothers, who each pulsed with raw vitality. But her awareness, her female sensitivity, was attuned to Sawyer alone. Her skin flushed as if he’d stroked those large, rough hands down her body, when in fact he’d done no more than stand there, gazing down at her.