“Ma, remember how people acted when you moved here with Dad? What they said about you?” My mother nods at me. “She’s like that.”
“Oh…” Ma’s chin rises, and she pats Deacon’s hand. “Looks like you managed to rise above it.”
“I think the more people you know, all kinds of people, the less racism makes sense.”
We’re finished eating, holding glasses of wine, and Noel hops up to grab the tiramisu. I stand and start collecting dinner plates to carry to the kitchen.
“Deacon is so dreamy. No wonder you want to go to Dallas with him.” My bestie is practically bouncing on her toes.
“I wasn’t going to Dallas with him.” I rinse the plates and start loading the dishwasher. “I was going for a job in design.”
“Uh huh.” Her voice is sarcastic.
“I can help you with this.” Sawyer’s deep voice behind me almost makes me drop the plate.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”
He stops me before I can continue. “I said I’ll help you.”
My shoulders drop, and I let him take over loading the dishes into the dishwasher while I collect the rest from the table then start loading the leftovers into plastic bins. We’re quiet, listening to the other four discuss business plans and the tiramisu, which evidently isn’t as bad as my mother anticipated.
“Where did you get this recipe?” Her voice is amazed.
“Everyday Italian.” Noel shoves another big bite in her mouth.
“Save some for me,” I call from the kitchen.
They go on, and Sawyer takes the heavy cast-iron bowl from me, washing it in the sink. I lean back against the counter, watching his muscles flex beneath his black tee, which is tucked into faded jeans. My eyes drift down to that ass… and I exhale a little sigh. It’s kind of pointless to pretend I’m not still head over heels for him.
The muscle in his scruffy jaw moves, and his eyes are focused on the task. I wish I knew what he was thinking. “Did you have a good day?”
That makes me blink. Is he making conversation with me? I try to think of anything new at the nursing home. “It was pretty much the same as always… Oh, wait, I forgot you hate that.”
Hazel eyes cut up to mine. “I think you misunderstood me.”
“I’m sure I did. I don’t understand anything about you these days.” My arms are crossed, and his rejection at the pond rekindles my irritation. “You used to care.”
He shuts off the water and puts the pot upside down on the drying rack before turning to me. “I still care.”
The way he says it, the emotion in his eyes hits me right in the chest. My arms loosen and lower, and I want to step forward and put my arms around him when Taron enters the room.
“I can barely move, I’m so full.” He pulls me in for a side hug. “We’d better get going if we’re getting up at six.”
Sawyer still has my eyes captured in his, but he blinks away. “You’re right.” Stepping to the side, he waves. “Thanks for dinner. Good seeing everybody.”
“You boys work hard. You need a good meal.” Ma walks with Noel to the kitchen.
Deacon follows behind them. His blazer is on, and he squeezes my arm. “Let me know if you need to talk.”
“I will.” I nod, and when I look up, I catch Sawyer’s eyes on us again from the porch.
My stomach squeezes, but I won’t let him play me like a yo-yo. Deacon’s right. I need to make a business plan. I need to take care of myself.
An hour later, I’m sitting at the small desk in my room thinking about everything. I’ve changed into shorts and a thin tank, and my hair is up in a messy bun.
For whatever reason, I always think better when I write things down. I’m holding a pen, tapping it on an open notebook when a tapping starts on my window, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
My eyes widen when I see Sawyer outside the glass. Running to my bedroom door, I lock it before crossing quickly and sliding open the window.