Worth The Effort (The Worth Series Book 4: A Copper Country Romance) (23 page)

She almost told him to stop, but somehow she knew it was important for him to tell her the story.

“They ruled it an accident. But I knew.”

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered the inadequate words.

“She was pronounced dead at the scene, already taken away when I got there. I just kind of wandered around until one of the cops called my brother Twain, who came and got me.

“You know, I still don’t know things like how my car got back to our house, or remember them taking my statement at the scene, stuff like that. But her mitten in the snow…God, I’ll never forget that.”

“Her mitten?”

“They wouldn’t let me too close to the car, but one of her mittens was thrown a few feet away. They had some spotlights on or I wouldn’t have seen it. But there it was. This cute little multi-colored mitten that she’d gotten at some arts and crafts show in Marquette the year before.

“I picked it up to…I don’t know what I was thinking…to take it to her, I guess. And then for a second I thought the yarn had come unwound and was still in the snow. But it was her blood.”

She moved so that she could wrap her arm around his neck, trying to soothe the unsoothable.

“You have them, you know.”

“Have what?” she asked.

“Those mittens. They weren’t the ones you wore the night at the Commodore. And the day we went to Green Bay, you had on your leather gloves. But when I was brushing off your windshield, I saw them on your passenger seat. The exact same mittens.”

She knew the ones he meant. Like Molly, Deni had purchased them at a craft fair. They were probably made by the same woman.
 

“That’s what made the memories flood back? Why you didn’t come home with me that night?”

“Yes. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to finish what we’d started in that parking lot. But it just…I don’t know, threw me.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

He cleared his throat again, and this time when he spoke his voice sounded more like himself. “I do want to give this a shot, Deni, whatever we turn out to be. I meant what I said at Tootie’s. But you have a right to know what I’m bringing to the table.”

She briefly thought about telling him of her SAD, but didn’t. For one thing it wasn’t anything permanent, or anywhere near the severity that Molly’s depression apparently was. And for another, this moment was about Sawyer, not her.

“So, stone collecting as therapy?”

He gave a small snort of laughter. “I guess.”

“And glass-house building as therapy.”

“Definitely.”

“Any depth to that? Glass house. Stones?”

“Hmmm. Sounds downright Freudian when you put it that way.”

She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. “Well, whatever works, I say.”

“Actually, the stones and glass house came a little later, after I got over the worst hump.”

“And how did you do that? Just time?”

“No. Alison.”

“Alison, my Alison?”

“Well, first she was my Alison.”

“You saw her professionally? She never mentioned it.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be very professional of her to, would it?”

Of course not. She felt stupid for even thinking it.

“She did tell me that your wife had died in a car accident.”

He waved that away. “That’s common knowledge, she wasn’t breaking any confidences with that. In fact, I’m kind of surprised you heard that first from her, and not at the office.”
 

“Nobody at the office ever talks about you.”

“I guess that’s better than speculating that I’m the Brockway Mountain Hermit.”

“So, Alison, eh?” She shook her head, still not quite believing it.

“Yep. Saw her for over a year. Huck and Twain waged a semi-intervention and got me to go. And I’m glad I did. She really pulled me out of it.”

“Becoming a hermit is being pulled out of it?”
 

He laughed. “Compared to the road I was probably headed down, oh yeah.”

She wanted to ask what that road was, but he spoke first. “In fact, I have Lucy because of Alison.”

“Alison gave you a puppy?”

“No, but she suggested I get one. I made the mistake of telling Twain about that and the next thing I know, he’s showing up at my door with a seven-week-old Lucy.”

“I’ll bet she was adorable.”

“She was a pain in the ass, is what she was. God, it took me forever to housebreak her.”

“Alison was smart. So was Twain.”

“Yes, she is. Twain, maybe on his good days. But what do you mean?”

“She knew that you could stop caring for yourself and let your life fall into ruin. You had Andy to take care of the business, so in a way you could check out of life. But if you had to take care of somebody else, like Lucy…”

“She took a gamble, ’cause it was close to that little puppy being put out into the snow to fend for herself.”

“Nope. No way in a million years would you let that happen, Sawyer Beck, no matter how much pain you were in.”

He didn’t say anything to that. What could he say? She was totally right, and she knew it.

“Hmmm. Whatever.”

“No. She saw it in you. So did Twain. You weren’t so far gone that you couldn’t care for something, or someone, else.”

“But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to care for anybody else. Ever.”

A moment passed. Deni was afraid to ask the question that hung in the room. “And now?” she finally said.

He pulled her out of his embrace so that he faced her. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his.
 

“And now I want to,” he said, and leaned forward to gently kiss her. “And now I
do
,” he added, and kissed her again before hugging her tight.

Chapter Twenty One

Whatever good things we build end up building us.

~ Jim Rohn

H
e lifted her from his lap and rose from the chair with her in his arms. She felt so good in his arms, so right. He carried her to the bed and lowered her down. Then he went to the door and let Lucy in.

“Did you hear us talking about you, girl? Did you?” She wagged her tail excitedly, snow flying from her fur as she did. “Go see Deni,” he said. Lucy did just that, bounding onto the bed and butting her head against Deni, who immediately began petting Lucy and cooing to her as Sawyer put some food in her dish and poured some bottled water in another.
 

“Come eat, girl,” he said, and Lucy left Deni and found her food and water in the candlelight.

“Hungry?” he asked Deni, ready to pull some hotdogs from the icebox to roast over the fire.

“You know what? I’m really not. But you go ahead.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m not really, either.” He made his way around the room, blowing out the candles. Then he put two large logs on the fire and joined her on the bed. He’d have to feed the fire throughout the night, but that was fine. He never slept longer than a couple of hours here and there anyway.

“God, I’m beat,” he said as he lay down next to her and pulled her onto his chest.

“I can’t imagine why? Outdoor activity, mucho sex, a blistering sauna and an emotional purging. Hmmm. Wonder what wore you out?”

He kissed her, and they smiled at each other. She rolled off him and situated them like they’d been before when they’d napped, his head upon her chest, his arm around her waist and both of her arms around him. “Sleep, Sawyer,” she softly said.

She was wearing her long johns, but he could feel she was without the bra this time. He started to knead her breast, but she put a hand on his and held it in place. “Sleep,” she whispered.

Oh, sure. How was he supposed to sleep with his hand on her tit? It was the last thought he had before falling into a deep slumber.

T
he morning sun coming through the glass ceiling woke Deni. Or maybe it was Sawyer’s hand on her hip, pulling her back into his front. Sunlight or Sawyer’s erection—both seemed to have an effect on her mood that surpassed any kind of serotonin rush.

She let out a long sigh as his hand crept under her thermal top and up to cup her breast just as the sun rose over the eastern tree line.
 

“Way better than any light box,” she said quietly.

“Hmm? What light box?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “God, it’s freezing in here.” She bundled deeper under the covers.

“Sorry,” he said, and was gone from the bed before she could stop him. “I…I guess I let the fire go out.” He was shaking his head in disbelief as he tore some newspaper up and put it on the grate, and then put some kindling on top of that. He let Lucy out while the dying embers caught. After a moment, he added a log and then crawled back into bed with her. “I can’t believe I did that.”
 

“What? You were going to wake up every three hours and feed the fire?” She turned over and curled into him, sliding one leg over his.

“Um…yeah, I kind of thought I was.” He still seemed slightly puzzled that he hadn’t.

“Forget about the fire,” she said, her hand moving down to his briefs. “Keep me warm some other way.”

The grin on his face told her he definitely would.

T
hey took another sauna in the early afternoon and then packed up and headed back to the pole barn the way they’d come up—Sawyer taking Lucy first, then coming back for Deni.

When he came back into the house from dropping Lucy off, he found Deni not looking out at the spectacular view but instead staring at his stone jar.

Should he have even shared that story with her? She was young and didn’t have the baggage he had. Would knowing how he’d struggled after Molly’s death scare her off?

Was that why he’d told her?

He did a mental gut check and came to the conclusion that no, he hadn’t wanted to push Deni away. He’d just wanted her to know what she was getting into with him.

And now, this afternoon, seeing her staring at the manifestation of his near-madness, he found himself saying a silent prayer that she would stay with him—monstrous baggage and all.

When they got into Copper Harbor, where he would typically go straight to keep going to Eagle Harbor, he put on his blinker and turned left instead.

“Oh, Sawyer, you don’t have to do this,” she said. He wasn’t surprised that she’d picked up on it so quickly—that he was taking
the
Covered Drive back to Calumet. And what that meant.

“It’s okay,” he said. And he truly meant it.

She scooted a little closer to him in the truck and put her hand on his thigh. Not in a sexual way, just to let him know she knew. Even Lucy seemed to sense something monumental was happening, sticking her head over the seat and resting it between them.

He didn’t mention when they came upon the spot where Molly—his sweet, outgoing, beautiful Molly—had died, but he must have tensed up or something because Deni removed her hand from his thigh at that point, as if trying to give him some privacy or something. As if she didn’t want to intrude on his “time” with Molly.

He’d been oddly attracted to Deni since that first day in the conference room, standing over her shoulder. “Oddly” because she wasn’t in any way like Molly or any other girl he’d ever dated.
 

And he’d really enjoyed seeing Deni’s mind work this past week as they put the driving range proposal together. That was a major turn-on to him.

Well, not as much of a turn-on as her standing in front of Lake Superior in a red satin bra and rose-covered long johns. God, he nearly got hard again thinking about it. Shocking, since he’d had about as much sex in the past twenty-four hours as he’d had in the last ten years.

But this gesture—taking her hand from him when she sensed they were at the site—tore at his heart and made him realize just how hard and fast he was falling for Deni Casparich.

And surprisingly, it didn’t scare the shit out of him.

When they were nearing Calumet, Sawyer said, “Are you in a rush to get back to Hancock? Would you like to stop at Tootie’s for a beer?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” she answered. He hadn’t said much of anything since they’d turned in Copper Harbor, and she’d tried to give him his space, such as it was in a truck cab. But Deni didn’t want the weekend to end with the pall of Molly’s accident freshly hanging over them.

Sawyer let Lucy out of the truck with them when they parked in front of the bar. She thought it was to just let Lucy do her business, but Sawyer walked up to the window of Tootie’s, looked in, and said to his dog, “Shorty’s bartending,” which made Lucy wag her tail and give a bark.

“Your dog knows the bartenders at Tootie’s?”

He shrugged and held the door open for them, Lucy bounding in the bar first. “She knows that Shorty lets her in the bar and feeds her beef jerky.”