The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine (25 page)

A soft twinkle out the window told her it might. Moonlight. On a lake.

They had a lake?

Maybe it was just a pond. But who cared? Too many thoughts pinging around, that wasn't a good way to spend an evening. Not to mention the hijinks her libido was up to. The looks. The touches. The words.
The words.
And seeing her ring there. Tied to the handlebars like it was just yesterday that she'd pressed it into his hand. Oh God.

All the feels.

Sitting outside by the water with a brisk temperature to cool her jets? That was the ticket.

As long as there were cookies. And a blanket. Sidney grabbed the tin—she'd make some tomorrow to replace these, Lord knew she had the time—tiptoed back to her room for a warm blanket, and headed back through the kitchen to the back door. Only taking pause at a large pair of lined rain boots.

Judging from the size of them, either Amelia Rose had a man tucked away or they were Sawyer's. Sidney peered down at her stocking feet and got a little rush in her belly at the thought of wearing his boots.

“Oh my God, how old are you?” she muttered under her breath, shoving her feet into them.

She wrapped the blanket around herself, tucked the tin under her arm, and opened the door, instantly glad for the blanket. The brisk night air chilled her cheeks and left clouds of vapor when she breathed. It wasn't likely to be a long sit. Grabbing a small flashlight that hung on a square-headed nail, she closed the door as quietly as she could and headed across the back patio.

Sawyer's boots clunked heavily on the wooden slats before going silent in the sod. Heading to the water's edge, Sidney started to wish she had something warmer on her body. Something under her favorite soft happy duck pajamas. But it was worth it, she thought, finding a high and dry spot to sit where the moon highlighted all the ripples on the water.

It was peaceful. Serene. So far removed from the busy chaos of Boston. Sidney could close her eyes and feel the sheer beauty of it. Only one thing could make it better. Maybe something with dirty blond hair and dark eyes, with a hard body and gentle hands and a lopsided smirk that could just about send her over the edge.

Yeah, that.

Okay, maybe two. She pulled the lid off the tin of cookies and inhaled. Oh, dear God, perfection. Selecting one and taking a bite, that feeling—the one from before, like warmth and happiness—poured over her.

This should be the first thing.

“Amelia Rose know you're out here scamming her cookies?”

Sidney yelped and dropped half the cookie when she jumped, but Sawyer scooped it right off the ground and blew on it, popping it into his mouth as he dropped down beside her.

Sidney just stared, mid-chew.

“Saw the light moving out here and thought I'd check it out,” he said in explanation. “I didn't know it was just a cookie thief.” He nudged at her foot with his. “Nice boots.”

“You
saw?
” Sidney said around the cookie finally. “From where?”

Sawyer pointed to a warm glow coming from windows right around the curve of the water.

“My house.”

“That's your house?” Sidney asked. “It didn't seem that close, earlier.”

“It isn't by road,” he said. “It's actually a whole separate subdivision. But our back yards are connected by a little bridge and walkway, so I keep an eye on things.”

“Good thing I didn't decide to go skinny-dipping,” she said.

“Well, I might have had to break out the binoculars for that,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder.

Sidney laughed. “It would have been a short show, I'm afraid. That water's probably forty degrees.”

“At least.”

Sidney broke another cookie in half and handed it to him. Even being unexpected, this was nice. Shoulder to shoulder with him. It was easy. And real. Maybe her people skills were improving. Or maybe it was just him.

“So, I was thinking I might let you borrow my truck tomorrow,” Sawyer said. “To go do whatever you need to do.”

Sidney was hit with a ridiculous wave of disappointment. “Not up for the Crane tour again?”

“I just have a lot of work to do tomorrow,” he said. “But I won't need Betsy.”

“I'm sorry?”

“What?”

Sidney chuckled. “Who would Betsy be?”

“That's my truck,” he said.

“You named it Betsy?” she asked. “For real?”

Sawyer waved what was left of his cookie at her. “You have ducks on your pj's, don't judge.”

“And she was inspired by who?” Sidney said with a smirk, her eyes dropping to his lips when he turned to her. “Your first love?”

“If I would've done that,” he said softly, “her name would have been Squeak.”

Bam
.

Sidney's heart felt like it reached out and slammed against every possible surface at once.

“Awfully pretty words again,” she whispered, suddenly feeling how bare she was and pulling the blanket tighter.

He shook his head slowly. “Not just words.” He looked out at the darkness on the water and rubbed at his face. “And something I've never felt again.”

She couldn't breathe. And although she was almost sweating she was so infused with warmth, she started to shiver.

“Why didn't you tell me that?” she asked. “Back then?”

He smiled and shrugged. “Scared kid, I guess.”

Sidney held his gaze, his eyes dark pools of black in the moonlight. Finally she nodded. “Yeah, me too,” she whispered.

He blinked and narrowed his eyes questioningly. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, hello?” she said. “I was running off with you. Breaking all the rules.” Sidney swallowed hard. “What did you think?”

Chapter 11

S
he was shivering in the cold and had just admitted that she once loved him. What did he think? That his damn head was spinning, that's what. But he could feel her arm shaking next to his, and physical he could deal with. It was tangible. She was cold. He could fix cold.

Pushing to his knees, he shrugged off his thick jacket.

“Here,” he said, moving to face her, knees to knees. He tugged the blanket down and enveloped her shoulders in the jacket, warm from his body.

“I don't need—”

“Hush,” he said, pulling it tight around her, closer to him, his knuckles resting against the softness of her breasts. The puffs of their breaths were mingling. “Just—” And then her lips parted slightly. And her eyes went impossibly shiny. And he was pulling her in. Or she was. All he knew was that his hands were on their own again, traveling up her neckline, feeling that silky skin, cupping her face, watching her eyes watch his mouth.

“Sidney.”

“I know.” Her voice was husky as their foreheads touched.

“I need you,” he breathed, unsure where that thought came from. Since when did he need anyone? Since right that second, evidently, because closing that space between them was all that mattered in the whole damn world.

“I need you more,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed, her face tilted as if her mouth was searching on its own.

He felt her hands moving up his chest, and knew it would be his undoing. He was wrong. Her lips brushing against his was.

Sawyer let his eyes close and his body take over. His mouth on hers, taking, giving, tasting, needing. Those lips he'd finally kissed one night twelve years ago. And compared to every woman since. That perfect mouth, better than any drug, as hungry for him as he was for her. Her head tilted perfectly so that each could dive into the other. One of his hands went up into her hair, pulling her deeper, as both of hers wrapped around his head, fingers in his hair, kissing him with her entire body.

Fuck, he couldn't remember a kiss ever being this hot. This complete. This everything. Until the little moaned sigh escaped her throat. And then all the switches turned on.

* * *

She couldn't stop.

The cold was forgotten. So many alarms going off in her head, and none of them mattered as much as kissing this man. Not just any man. This one. This one who stole her heart years ago, and made her skin tingle with every look, every touch, and now every taste. He kissed her with all he had, sliding her body to him so that she straddled his legs.

Oh God, she was toast. He felt amazing under her hands, against her body, it couldn't just be that—
shit
—his hands slid up her legs, grabbing her ass and tugging her tightly against him, making her wrap her legs around him and move on her own, kicking off the heavy boots behind his back so she could lock her ankles.

She didn't know. All she knew was that she couldn't stop touching him. Stop kissing him. Stop moving like they were made to fit together, hands and mouths roaming, desperate to touch everything they could reach.

“God, Sidney,” he growled against her mouth, his hands finding skin under her shirt, sliding up her back, moving to the front, cupping a full bare breast in one hand as he dragged his mouth from hers to taste all the way down her neck. All as she twisted her fingers in his hair and continued her leg vise around him, moving herself in a torturous rhythm that had her dizzy with desire. Then the buttons—they were gone—and his mouth was on her breast, hot and wet and—fuck, she was going to lose it.

“Caleb,” she moaned.

“Sawyer,” he corrected, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck!” she cried, arching her back and grinding herself against something she desperately needed to be freed. “I don't care,” she breathed. “Just, please, God, I need you.”

In less than a second, he had her flipped onto her back, the cold ground seeping through her shirt but she didn't care.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face looking strained even in the low light. His hand brushed hair from her eyes as he quickly tucked the blanket under her head. “Baby, are you sure?”

She pulled his face down to hers, kissing him passionately. Was she supposed to be hard to get after all these years? If so, she wasn't there. She wanted him like she wanted to breathe. In fact, breathing wasn't all that important. Her breasts were open to the moonlight, each nipple getting a lick to chill them before he pulled her pajama pants down in one move and unfastened his jeans in the next.

“God, you're beautiful,” he said through his teeth, pulling her left leg up over his shoulder at the same time that Sidney's hands pulled him free, stroking him in her need. “Jesus, God, baby, please,” he growled, shuddering, moving the tiny strip of fabric aside.

Bucking under the flick of his fingers, Sidney cried out, pulling him inside her, taking him in as he thrust, groaning as he bottomed out and filled her up and she wrapped her other leg around him. Oh God, it wasn't going to be long. It wasn't going to be—
fuck
—the build started almost immediately as their bodies found the natural rhythm. His fingers digging in to her thigh as he pumped into her, one hand on her face, eyes burning into her.

She felt everything tense and begin to shake uncontrollably as the wave crescendo went barreling so hard and so fast she couldn't breathe.

“Sawyer,” she gasped, her fingers fisted in his hair. She forced her eyes to stay on his as it hit her with all the subtlety of a freight train, pulling a sound from her that was pure primal ecstasy as his own roar of release nearly drowned it out.

* * *

Never in his life had a sexual encounter left Sawyer shaking and speechless. Never. He was a man. He typically got up and walked away. He'd had some intense experiences, and some damn crazy-hot antics, but this—this with Sidney was something else. This was his damn heart on a spigot.

And that was something he hadn't felt in a hell of a long time.

That was dangerous.

“Sidney,” he said, finding his breath, finding his voice, coming back to her mouth, kissing her top lip and then her bottom one.

“Mmm,” she said, her eyes still closed as if opening them would make it be over. “So, that just happened.”

He gazed down at her, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. This was that girl. The one he always wanted. Miraculously lying beneath him in a state of post-orgasmic bliss. And somehow he knew he only had minutes. Seconds, maybe. Because even though he hadn't been around her in over a decade, he knew her. And reality was about to dawn in that head of hers.

“Yes, it did,” he said.

“Oh my God, I'm not usually this easy,” she whispered.

“And I'm not usually that fast,” he said. A husky laugh bubbled up from her chest, warming him as she opened her eyes. He ran a finger down her cheek. “You called me Sawyer, too.”

She chuckled, and it resonated through her body to him. Those eyes opened and focused on him, and the jab to the gut was like shooting back in time.

“Eventually.”

“I gave you a pass on the first one,” he said, resting his lips against her forehead. “You were distracted.”

Another chuckle turned into a deeper laugh. “Dude, you may have been Sawyer for twelve years, but I've known you that way for about twelve minutes, so the fact that I remembered anything in the heat of
that
is a miracle.”

Sawyer was hit again by her smile, by the seriousness that took it over. By what he knew was coming. Especially the longer she just lay there, still, looking up at him. Each second that ticked by made him more and more hers. And that was going to hurt.

“What do you think would have happened?” she whispered finally. “Back then? If—”

Her words trailed off, but he didn't need the rest of the sentence.

“You would have fallen madly in love with me,” he said, going for light.

Sidney's eyes welled up with tears, however, and she laughed to blink them free, sending them back into her hairline.

“I was already there,” she said.

Fuck, it was like a roundhouse kick to the chest. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds to keep it together. “Then I would have screwed it up,” he said, moving his thumb along her cheek. “I'm so sorry that I hurt you,” he said, almost not getting the words out.

Sidney nodded, and her hands came up to his face. “I'm sorry he hurt
you,
” she whispered, her words catching.

Everything inside him burned like someone stuck a fire poker right through his chest. Her eyes seared right through him as the quiet screamed. He couldn't do this. He
couldn't do this
.

“Okay,” he said, kissing her hand softly. “Let's—”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, wiping at her face. “We should probably—”

“Before we get arrested or something.”

“Or your boss wakes up.”

“Yeah, if that's not a mood killer, I don't know what is,” Sawyer said, laughing lightly and feeling anything but light.

He helped her up as she held her shirt together—buttons scattered to the far corners of the earth. Found her pants about ten feet away and helped her back into them and back into his boots. It was clinical and polite and robotic and chilly in a way that had nothing to do with the frigid air, and it formed a sick pit in his stomach. She gathered up the blanket and the tin of cookies and turned back to him, her mouth open and poised to say something.

He wanted her to say something. Needed it. Because there was so much to say and he was suddenly struck mute and stupid.

Her mouth closed, and something in her eyes faded. He could see that even in the dark.

“Guess we got our night,” she said softly, giving a little grin with a head tilt.

He smiled, feeling the frown behind it. Wondering if she could see it.

“Yeah,” he said.

She nodded. “Good night,” she whispered. And turned. Walked away. In his boots.

He stared after her, watching her silhouette get darker until the back door of the cottage opened to the tiny nightlight inside. He picked up the small flashlight she'd forgotten and walked it over to the back patio, leaving it by the door.

“I wanted forever.”