Last First Kiss (5 page)

The nurse pulled a face like a camel sucking a lemon. Claire would call her a twathole, but Annie preferred to kill haters with kindness.

“Hey, no big deal.” She forced a conspiratorial smile. “He likes pink and Ninja Turtles. A well-rounded kid.”

Were clinic staff allowed to roll their eyes?

“How about blue?” the nurse pressed, turning to Atticus. “A big boy like you prefers blue, right?”

“But pink matches Margot’s shirt,” he whimpered, fresh tears coursing his blotchy cheeks.

“He said pink.” Annie spoke through her teeth.

“Well, now I’ve seen everything,” the nurse grumbled, eyeing the closed door as if mentally summoning child protective services.

Annie stood firm and Atticus got his pink cast.

“Maybe I should have chosen blue,” he whispered when it was over.

“Maybe so.” The nurse’s sneer wiggled the thick hair on the mole beside her lip. “Tell Mommy to keep a better eye on you up there.” As if Five Diamonds was seeped in pot smoke and anarchy—a hippie commune not fit for a child.

That wasn’t the case, at least not anymore.

“I think we’re all set here.” Annie rose to her feet. No doubt Brightwater would soon buzz with tales that the kooky Carsons were back in force. She could take it, she always had. But if anyone dared say a word crosswise about her son, they’d be eating a knuckle sandwich.

Annie helped Atticus get back into the car and started home. Broken coops and broken children . . . what if she couldn’t cope? Mount Oh-Be-Joyful rose up out the driver’s side window. The name mocked her, and the vast size made her feel small. Insignificant. Those ancient rocks knew her for what she was, not a pioneer babe or a perfectly orchestrated photograph, nothing but fleeting entertainment, easily deleted. Her tears fell in utter silence as she returned her gaze to the empty road. She knew how to do that, had a PhD in Muted Grief.

A red light flashed in the rear view. A siren blared.

Crap.

That was a stop sign back there. She blew through the quiet crossroads without even tapping her brakes. The same way she’d been living these last days and months. Keep going, keep moving, and get through it.

She had her license and registration out by the time the officer sauntered to the driver’s side window and bent down.

No freaking way.
Her mouth gaped, she blinked, but yep, he was still there. Sawyer Kane dressed in a beige and green uniform, his lean hips encased by a black leather holster. A trapdoor opened in her stomach as she met his fixed gaze and prayed for a little mercy.

Chapter Five

S
AWYER
GAZED
THROUGH
the driver’s window.
Aw, hell.

“It’s you.” Annie removed her oversized sunglasses, her eyes suspiciously shiny. At first glance they were an ordinary blue, but look deeper and they held the same color gradient of a mountain lake, light on the outer ring with indigo encircling the center.

His ex-fiancé favored silk and lace, but Annie’s Lewis and Clark College hoodie and denim cut-offs were a form of temptation all on their own. Conjured an image of lazy weekend mornings, cooking a late breakfast, sleeping in, or better yet, not sleeping at all. The thought lasted only a moment, because a skinny, bespectacled boy regarded him from a booster in the backseat—wearing a pink shirt and color-coordinated cast.

Sawyer hid his start of surprise, just. Where’d the kid come from?

“You’re a cop?” Her gaze ping-ponged back and forth from his badge to his holster. “But . . . earlier when I threatened to call the police on your grandma . . . I didn’t . . . you didn’t—”

“License and registration, please.” Easier to stick to the rulebook while deciding how to play this. Discovering Annie Carson drove the stop sign–running purple hybrid with the bumper stickers “I’m straight, but maybe it’s a phase” and “This is what a feminist looks like” threw him for a loop. Realizing the boy was her dead ringer took him on a disorienting ride around a corkscrew roller coaster. He was her son. Annie was a mother.

Guess she still had a knack for surprising him.

That was an unexpected complication he hadn’t considered. He didn’t know the first thing about kids.

She handed over the documents and as their fingers grazed, nerve endings tingled as his ribs contracted a good inch. She still had a knack for doing that too.

“This is my sister’s car. The registration’s in Claire’s name. She’s letting me borrow it.”

He studied her license photo, refocusing. “Portland.” So that was where she’d run off to. People talked, said she’d gotten a scholarship to a fancy college in the Northwest, but no one was ever sure where. If she’d been back to visit the farm, he’d never seen any evidence. “You liked living in Oregon?”

“It’s greener than here. Close to the ocean.” Her gaze darted in any direction that wasn’t his as she drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel.

“Did you ever miss Brightwater?” he asked softly.
Me?

She shrugged, clearly not wanting to talk more than necessary. “Should I?”

He tipped back his hat. He didn’t care. He’d missed her. “This is your home.”

“My home?” There was that smile again, the one that didn’t reach her eyes. “This valley is beautiful and it’s probably a wonderful town to settle down in if you’re part of the ‘in’ crowd. But I wouldn’t know, would I?” She shook her head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t snap. It’s been one heck of a morning.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” She bit her lower lip, but not before it gave a tell-tale wobble.

“Annie—”

“I’m fine.” She did a good job of keeping her sigh internal, but not good enough.

“I fell in a hole,” the boy piped from the backseat.

“In the barn, the floor is rotted . . . ” Annie burst into sudden, helpless tears.

Nothing tore him up more than a crying woman, and for that woman to be Annie?

Shit.

Gritting his teeth against a nearly physical need to provide her comfort, instinct held him back, kept him from murmuring, “Stop. Hush. Everything will be all right.” Instead, she seemed to need a moment to let go, release whatever tore up her insides. He could give her that, despite the fact each hitching sob slugged his guts like a fist.

The kid peered out the window with eyes the size of dinner plates. Sawyer offered a reassuring nod.

The next minute passed as slow as an hour, but finally, her sobs lessened. He squatted down and offered the clean handkerchief from his back pocket.

“I’m sorry.” She dabbed her eyes. “That was uncalled for. I’m fine and should really be—”

“Follow me.”

She blinked in red-eyed confusion. “Please, don’t bring me in. I’m sorry about the stop sign. If you need to write me a ticket you can—”

“I’m not taking you to the sheriff’s office,” he said, touching her shoulder. She tensed but didn’t move away. Beneath that too-thick cotton was bare skin. The idea of being that close to her hit him like a shot of tequila in a Red Bull. “You still like hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate?” The boy perked. “We love hot chocolate, don’t we, Mommy?”

Mommy. In ten years, Annie had become a woman, and a mother. And yet, some things never changed. She still had a weakness for chocolate. And despite everything, he still had a weakness for her.

“A new coffee shop in town opened up today,” he said. “I’ve been told it’s going to be good. The test will be if the new owner can make a mean hot chocolate.”

“It must be eighty degrees out.”

He rubbed his chin, already covered with scruff despite the morning’s careful shave. “That never stopped the Annie Carson I knew.”

That earned a glimmer of a real smile, small, but her eyes brightened. “You got me there.”

He stood. “So you’ll follow me?”

“But you’re working. I don’t want to take your time. It’s fine.”

“
Fine
. You keep using that word.” But saying a thing didn’t make it true. He knew because he’d been feeding himself the same line and still felt hungry. The bachelor life with Maverick was fine. He liked his job, had a good house, and could watch a ball game or fish whenever he wanted.

But shouldn’t life be better than fine? Something full, rich, and real?

“Mommy, can we go with the sheriff? Please, please, plea—”

“Fine.” She wrinkled her nose, catching herself, and glanced back to her son. “I mean, okay. Yes. After all, don’t we deserve a treat?”

“I think you do.” Sawyer didn’t mean it to sound suggestive, but she blushed all the way to the tips of her ears. Hell, maybe he did. His reflection stared from the back window. Sometimes he hid his thoughts so well even he didn’t know where to find them. That wasn’t the case now. He looked like a man on a mission. Something told him Annie needed a heavy dose of sweetness.

S
AWY
ER
HELD
OPEN
the door to Haute Coffee.

“Cute name,” Annie murmured, looking around. The interior was cuter still, with wooden floors polished to a warm honey-gold, exposed brick walls showcasing vintage travel posters from the region, and a pressed-tin ceiling gleaming in the morning light. This was a spot where she could curl up with a good book or work on the blog. Her kind of place.

“Today is the grand opening,” Sawyer said. “Looks like it’s going well.”

Most of the tables were full and a striking woman frothed milk behind the counter, her thick red hair held back by a paisley headband. She glanced in their direction with a distracted smile. “Welcome! Be right with you.”

Annie racked her brain, but couldn’t place the barista, who exuded a casual but stylish poise. She’d have remembered someone with that vivid hair color. Plus, all her freckles contributed to a unique but undeniably eye-catching look.

“Her name is Edie and she’s new in town.” Sawyer leaned close to whisper into her ear. “The rumor mill claims she comes from New York City.”

His breath teased the side of Annie’s neck, a heat that spread south, leaving her breasts full and aching. “A friend of yours?” she managed to grind out.

“Archer knows her. I’m not sure how they met, but he seems to have taken an interest of sorts.”

“Your brother?” Even in his teens, Archer had a way with women. Lots of women. “Who isn’t he interested in?”

“Well . . . I don’t think he’s made the rounds at the nursing home. Yet.”

Annie was surprised to find herself smiling, a real smile, something that seemed impossible twenty minutes ago. She gave Sawyer a grateful look. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Thanks for saying yes.” His hooded gaze dropped to her mouth. “You know, smiling is a good look on you.”

A delicious warmth spread through her lower belly as if she’d already drank the promised hot chocolate.

“Um . . . ” Edie discretely cleared her throat. “Are you ready to order?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.” Annie placed a hand on the side of her neck, her pulse pounding beneath her fingers.

“Can we have a cupcake too, Mommy?” Atticus pressed his face against the glass display case.

“A cupcake and hot chocolate? That’s a lot of sugar.”

“It’s hazelnut with Nutella frosting,” Edie said with a conspiratorial wink.

“You don’t play fair.” Annie’s mouth dropped. “How can anyone resist?”

Edie’s aloof expression disappeared with a laugh that was shy but genuine. “That’s my hope.”

A Mumford & Sons song came on over the sound system and Annie sighed, “Ah. This is my favorite song,” right as Edie said, “Hey, I love this song.”

They exchanged warm glances. How nice to meet someone new in Brightwater, a woman who didn’t know her as a kooky Carson, who liked great music, good coffee, and Nutella. The tension left her shoulders as Sawyer placed their orders, adding a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie to the mix and insisting on paying despite her protests.

“I’ll bring this all right out,” Edie said as more people came through the front door.

“It looks like your first day in business is a success,” Annie said.

“Such a relief.” Edie took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure how the town would react to a new coffee shop. The Baker’s Dozen has been around forever.”

Annie nodded with understanding. “People here can be slow to embrace change.”

“I’m learning that, but still, I’m determined to make it work.”

“Well, for as long as I’m in town, plan on me being a regular customer,” Annie said. “Nutella lovers need to stick together.”

“That sounds like a deal.” Edie giggled. “Are you here for a visit?”

Annie glanced to the booth where Atticus was laughing at some story of Sawyer’s. “No. I’m selling my family farm. Then moving to San Francisco to expand my business or maybe start a new project.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a mommy blogger. I know, it sounds strange, right?” Annie added quickly.

Edie leaned forward on her elbows. “Don’t undersell yourself! You are an entrepreneur.”

That put a certain glamor into what was essentially working from her kitchen table in yoga pants. “I don’t know about that. I haven’t used my journalism degree in so long that I’m not sure it’s worth the paper it’s printed on.”

Edie gave her a considered look, absently chewing the corner of her lip. “You know what, I should introduce you to my cousin. He’s new in town too and works in media. We could all have dinner together.”

The idea of dinner out in Brightwater sounded strange. She hadn’t expected to come back and make friends, rather keep her head down and get out as soon as possible. But the hesitant eagerness in Edie’s eyes was hard to resist. It had been a long time since she’d had a girlfriend. Someone that she wasn’t simply trying to coordinate play dates with.

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Edie said softly. “I’ll get your order going.” She turned before pausing and looking back. “I’m so happy we met.”

Annie walked to the booth, grinning. Sawyer and Atticus were chuckling. What did he think about the fact that she had a son? Most single guys weren’t lining up around the block to date a divorced mom with a child.

Not that this was a date. Purely platonic. Possibly even a pity party.

He glanced up and—oh, whoa, his hot, hooded gaze wasn’t anything pitying. She might as well be covered in Nutella with a cherry on top.

“Wh-what’s so funny?” she stammered, sliding into the bench beside Atticus, rubbing her palms on her shorts.

“The sheriff told me a story about how he broke his arm as a kid. His big brother pushed him out of a tree.”

“That’s terrible!” Annie said, vaguely remembering Wilder. He was a big guy, quiet, broody, and a little dangerously unsettling. But she had never taken him for being an outright bully.

“Oh, I asked for it,” Sawyer replied.

“I don’t believe that.”

“No, I literally asked for it.” His laugh lines crinkled around his eyes. “Told him to push me. Guess I’d watched Superman a few too many times.”

“You thought you could fly?” Atticus asked, confused.

“Yep. And found out I couldn’t the hard way. Wore a cast most of the summer. The best part was getting it signed.”

“Signed?” Atticus stared curiously.

“Yeah, you ask people you like to sign the cast. Collect autographs.”

Atticus looked down at his cast and mumbled, “Would you sign mine?”

Sawyer glanced at Annie. “Is that okay?”

Sometimes the past and present pushed up against each other, and at the peak was a sharp unexpected sweetness, an almost unbearable beauty. She nodded slowly.

Sawyer pulled a black Sharpie from his front pocket. Atticus laid his cast on the table and Sawyer printed his name in careful, bold letters.

“Sawyer Kane,” Atticus said, sounding out the words.

Sawyer gave a slow nod. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to you earlier. Your mama is one of my oldest friends.”

“She’s never talked about you. She never talks about anyone here.”

Sawyer gave her a long, impenetrable look. “Guess she has her reasons.”

Atticus sat back in his seat and looked out over Main Street. “I like this place.”

The silence dragged after that, one, two, three long seconds before Edie appeared with the tray. Three hot chocolates, a cupcake cut in half, and one slice of pie.

Saved by dessert.

“I hope you enjoy,” Edie said, passing out forks. “And I’ll be in touch about connecting you with my cousin. I’m looking forward to having you around. I could use a friend.”

Annie smiled. “Me too.”

After Edie left, Sawyer nudged her foot with his boot. “Hey, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”

“That might be my fault,” she said. “When I heard the hammering this morning, I thought Grandma—”