Worth The Effort (The Worth Series Book 4: A Copper Country Romance) (16 page)

“Sawyer? Did you hear me?” Andy pulled him out of his truck memory. Stupid Andy.

“What was that? Sorry, lost in thought.” He gave Deni a look that hopefully told her exactly what thought had him lost. By the flush that rose in her face and the way she dropped her eyes, he guessed she got it.

“I said, thanks for dinner, and more importantly, for taking on this project.”

“We don’t have it, yet,” he reminded the ever-optimistic Andy.

Who waved the negative thought away. “I know, I know. But it’s a great plan, and we wrote a great quote. If they do it at all, they’ll do it with us and follow the plan you came up with.”

“The plan we
all
came up with,” he quickly pointed out. He’d expected a level of resentment from the group—him swooping in and leading a large, high-profile project when he hadn’t shown his face in ten years. But no, everybody had been great to work with. Except maybe Charlie when he’d caught Sawyer staring at Deni various times during the week.

Poor kid. He had it bad for Deni, and she only thought of him as a friend. They seemed to make some kind of peace earlier, though. He’d ask Deni about it later when they were alone. She yawned again, and he realized that this night was going to end just like all the others in the past week—with them both going home alone, exhausted. She would get some much-needed shut-eye. He would battle sleeplessness, and think about getting Deni naked while he jerked off.

His sigh of frustration coincided with the waitress putting down the check in front of him. Everyone laughed, thinking that was the cause, but Deni knew. She had a look that said the night hadn’t gone how she’d wanted, either.

He had a moment of thinking they’d rally and salvage it, but she yawned once more. He shrugged his shoulders and reached for the check.

Somehow, they managed to be the last of their group in the parking lot. He walked over to her car, where she stood as if waiting for him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Long day.”

She nodded. “Long week.”

“Very.” He put a hand to her cheek, which was already cold from the frigid night air. “But a good one.”

She smiled. “It was.”
 

He leaned in to kiss her, but the lights of a car pulling into the lot shone in his face, stopping him. He hadn’t thought it through, but blurted out, “I’d like to take you somewhere tomorrow. Are you free?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a bit of a hike. It’d be better to spend the night, but I don’t want to rush or presume—”

“I’d like that,” she quickly said.

“Great. I’ll pick you up at nine. I know you live in East End, but what’s your address?”

She told him and he memorized the number. There were only five or six streets in that cluster of older homes, and he knew hers well.

“Dress warmly. We’ll be outside for a while. Very,
very
, casual. Like long johns or ski pants. Warm and casual.”

“How romantic,” she teased.

“That’s what I’m going for,” he said, and they both smiled. “And pack light. Like a backpack, if you have one.”

Another car entered the lot, shining on them. She moved to get in her car. Sawyer opened the door for her and held it. “Okay,” she said. The same reluctance to leave that he felt came through in her voice. “See you tomorrow morning.”

He kept his hand on the door longer than need be but then finally shut it. She looked at him through the window, then turned forward and started up her car. He walked to his as she pulled away and turned out of the lot.

He got in his truck, and pulled onto the highway that led back into Houghton. Deni’s car was within sight. He kept his eyes on it, the ache that he’d felt each night when he left the office—and her—returning once again.
 

When he got to Agate Street, where he should have turned to go get Lucy from Huck’s, he kept going. Through Houghton and across the bridge, taking a right at Bob’s Mobil and heading up the hill into East End.
 

Ahead of him, Deni made the last turn onto her street and disappeared.

Keep going, don’t turn, don’t turn, don’t turn. Go back to Houghton.

The sheer strength of the urge he felt to follow her shocked him. He hadn’t felt anything this strong, this desperate, in…God, years and years. He turned.

She lived in one of the older homes that were built into the hill. You parked in back and then walked down steep steps to get to the house. She’d already exited her street-level garage and had made her way down the stairs when he pulled up to her house.
 

“Deni, wait,” he shouted as he got out of his truck. She whirled from putting her key in the door, startled.
 

“Sawyer? What’s wrong?” She must have sensed his urgency, which wasn’t hard since he was racing down the steps, losing his footing on the snow-covered incline. He righted himself and nearly sprinted to her.

“What is it? Is it Lucy?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t explain it to her. Hell, he couldn’t explain it to himself. “Just…this,” he whispered to her, then held her head in his hands as he kissed her.

Hard, and yet softly. He wanted to devour her and also gently taste. He needed to own her but to share what he was feeling for her.

Except he couldn’t explain it—let alone share it. So he kept his mouth fused to hers, tangling with her tongue, tasting the coffee and sweet Amaretto of the tiramisu she’d had for dessert.

Her arms wrapped around him and a soft sigh escaped her mouth, floating against his cheek, warming him. His hands moved from her face to her nape, holding her in place as he tilted his head, wanting more. The leather of her gloves felt foreign on his neck…but he liked it. Liked everything about how well their bodies fit together, even through the many layers of warm clothing and coats.
 

“Come inside,” she whispered between kisses, and then swept her tongue back to his mouth, searching for his. She started to step back, toward her door, pulling him with her.

And, dear God, he wanted to go inside with her. But he stopped. Stopped this kiss. Stilled his hands and just laid his forehead against her.

“Wait,” he said, catching his breath. He didn’t look at her, just kept his eyes closed and forged on. “I’m going to explain this badly, so please bear with me. Sometimes I get these…visions in my head.”

She pulled away, and he opened his eyes to see her studying him. “Like…psychic visions?”

“No, not like that. Like visions of what could be. Like at a building site. I can see the final thing in my head…like seeing the rendering.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I get those, too.”

He nodded. He guessed most engineers and architects did. Hell, maybe everybody did.

“And…I have this very clear…vision of where we’ll be the first time…we’re together.”

“So you want to wait?” If there had been incredulity or petulance or anything like that in her voice, he would have brushed his stupid ideas of their first time aside and grabbed the keys from her hand and had that door unlocked and them inside in no time.

But there wasn’t. There was understanding and what sounded like anticipation. But it was the understanding that clinched it for him. “Yes. I want to say good night and pick you up tomorrow morning at nine like we planned.”

She didn’t say “Then why the hell did you follow me home?” which was kind of what he was thinking.
 

“I just…wanted to kiss you good night,” he said to the unspoken question.

She smiled and the little dimple appeared. “I’m glad you did,” she said softly. Then she turned around, let herself into her house, and shut the door behind her.

Chapter Fourteen

A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.

~ Douglas Adams

S
awyer ended up crashing in Huck’s guest room. And even though there was a fresh pot of coffee made, water in Lucy’s dish, and Sawyer was sure he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours, there was no Huck when he woke up in the morning.

He knew that after ten years of basically checking out on his family he had no right to start playing concerned big brother now. But should he be concerned about Huck?

He left his brother a thank-you note, filled two travel cups with coffee, and started out with Lucy. He went to Pat’s IGA and stocked up on easily transportable food and a good bottle of wine. Then it was time to pick up Deni.

She must have been waiting for him, because he had no sooner pulled his truck over than she was out the door, a backpack slung over her shoulder.

He got out and opened the passenger door for her. “Morning,” she said as she breezed past him and stepped up into the truck.

“Morning,” he answered, taking her backpack and putting it on the floor of the backseat, giving Lucy something new to sniff.

“Hey, girl,” she said to his dog as he shut the door and walked back to his side. By the time he was seated, Deni was halfway over the backseat giving Lucy a belly rub. Much as he would love to look at Deni’s ass for the entire trip, he put the truck in gear, which caused her to turn around and buckle up. He motioned to the two coffee cups. She picked one up and took a long drag of what was now probably lukewarm coffee.

“So, where are you taking me?” she asked, setting the cup back in the holder.

“In general terms, Copper Harbor,” he answered. He drove them out of East End, up White Street, and then turned right, heading to Calumet and ultimately the Harbor.

“And in specific terms?”

“A very remote piece of property that I own.”

“We’re not camping, are we? At this time of year?”

“Plenty of people winter camp.”

“Yes, but I’m not one of them.”

“I didn’t picture you as the high-maintenance type,” he teased. He stole a glance her way and saw she was smiling.

“I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I want to be in a tent and sleeping bag when it gets down to ten below zero.”

“What if I said I’d keep you warm?”

She laughed at that. “I’d say that was very romantic, but I still want a mattress, heavy comforter, and furnace.”

“How about a mattress, heavy comforter, and a roaring fire.”

“Walls? And a roof?”

“Yep.”

“Sold,” she said, and gave him a brilliant smile as she reached for her coffee.

He stepped on the gas.

T
hey rode in silence, Lucy’s occasional sighs the only sound. This was fine with Deni, she’d never been one who needed to have silence filled. Besides, their silence was a comfortable one, neither feeling the need to talk for talking’s sake. And it wasn’t awkward at all, even if a sense of…
anticipation
hung in the air.
 

When they got to the point where you could turn off to go the longer route, or stay on the shorter one, Sawyer put his blinker on and made the turn.

“You did say Copper Harbor, right? Not Eagle Harbor?”

“Yeah, Copper Harbor. Beyond Copper Harbor, actually.”

“And you’re taking this route instead of Covered Drive?”

“I didn’t know you knew your way around up here so well. Do you get up to the harbors much?”

“Not a lot, no. Not as much as I’d like. It’s beautiful up here.” Lucy let out a soft snort, as if agreeing with her. “I usually get up once or twice during the summer. And I try to get up during color season. When I do, though, I tend to take Covered Drive up and then go through Eagle Harbor on the way back.”

“That’s a good route. I just thought this way would be prettier for you. Covered Drive isn’t as great this time of year with no leaves. Without that, it’s just a twisty road—not always the best for winter driving.”

Something about the way he said the last part put Deni on alert. If this were to be just the beginning of something lovely, but short—a snack, as she’d said—she would have just let it go and sit back to enjoy the ride.

But instead she asked, “Is that where your wife’s accident happened? On Covered Drive?”

For a moment he didn’t answer her, and she thought maybe it was too soon for those types of talks. Then slowly, he nodded his head, his hands tightening on the wheel.
 

“Yes. And it’s not like I’ve
never
been on it since. It’s just I prefer to go this way if I have the time.”

She was glad he’d answered her, but she could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, so she didn’t push.

“And we have the time today,” she said. “And Eagle Harbor is so pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever been up here this deep into winter. I’ll bet it’s gorgeous in a different way.”

He smiled at her, with gratitude for the changed subject, it seemed.

“It has its own kind of beauty. The snow and ice, the stillness of it all. It might be my favorite time of year up here.”

“That’s because there’s no one up here now. No tourists, no seasonal workers. Perfect for a hermit.”