Guide Me
In the Desert, Book One
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Ivy Evergreen
Greens & Blues Publishing
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Guide Me by Ivy Evergreen
Published by Greens & Blues Publishing
www.ivyevergreenbooks.com
Copyright © 2022 by Ivy Evergreen
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from
the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:
ivyevergreenbooks@gmail.com
Cover by Ivy Evergreen.
Cover Photo Dima Aslanian/Shutterstock.com
ISBN: (ebook)
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Contents
1. LOGAN
2. SAWYER
3. LOGAN
4. SAWYER
5. SAWYER
6. LOGAN
7. SAWYER
8. LOGAN
9. SAWYER
10. LOGAN
11. SAWYER
12. LOGAN
13. SAWYER
14. LOGAN
15. SAWYER
16. LOGAN
17. SAWYER
18. LOGAN
19. SAWYER
20. LOGAN
21. LOGAN
22. SAWYER
23. LOGAN
24. SAWYER
25. SAWYER
26. LOGAN
27. SAWYER
28. LOGAN
29. SAWYER
30. LOGAN
31. SAWYER
32. LOGAN
33. SAWYER
34. LOGAN
35. LOGAN
36. SAWYER
37. LOGAN
38. SAWYER
39. SAWYER
Epilogue
About Author
Coming Soon from Ivy Evergreen
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Chapter One
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LOGAN
“LET ME HELP YOU with that.”
At the sound of the voice, I glance up from where I am dropping my
grocery bags into the back of my truck and see a man approaching a girl no, woman - parked two spots over from me. She is lifting cases of beer out
of her cart laden with her purchases.
“Oh no, I’m good.” Waving him off, she turns to the side and goes back
to unloading her groceries.
“It’s no problem. I can give you a hand.”
I stop what I am doing to watch them now. The dude doesn’t appear
creepy, but he seems persistent. His suit is wildly out of place in the dry,
desert heat. And with his hair slicked back, he looks like a total douchebag,
but I shouldn’t judge. Much. He takes another step closer to the woman,
who is trying to ignore him, and makes to reach for the items left in her
cart. “No, no. My mother raised me right. I’m always going to help a
woman in need.”
The woman, no longer ignoring him, turns to face him. “I said no, and
I’m not in need.” She is not amused. However, this dipshit doesn’t seem to
get the message.
“Now, I insist. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I sat back while you are
struggling.” He leans down and picks up one of her bags.
“Take your hands off my stuff and backup or you’ll be pissing blood for
the next week.”
Oh shit.
This is getting real.
The once friendly (but douchey) looking guy replaces his smile with a
sneer. Without thinking, I close the distance between my car and the
woman’s. I don’t have a plan beyond this, but I am a big enough guy that I
can probably get him to back off. “Hey - hi there.”
Noticing me for the first time, she shoots me a look that doesn’t convey
her excitement to see me. “Jesus Christ. Not you too,” she deadpans.
The woman’s gaze rakes over me to the other guy and back to me again.
“Okay, this shit is going to end right now. Listen closely, because I’m only
going to say this once. Nothing about me or my behavior made it seem like
I needed help from either of you. You assholes assume because I’m a
woman that I’m weak and I need a man to save me. Wrong. Don’t spout off
some bullshit about being a gentleman. No. You wouldn’t have tried to help
me if I were a man. If I was a man, you would have assumed I was strong
enough to lift a few measly cases of beer. But, because I’m just a weak
woman, I must need your help.” She turns to face the other dude.
“Newsflash dipshit. I’m probably stronger than you.” With a tilt of her
head, she gives me some side-eye. “Maybe not you, but either way, I’m
doing fine on my own.”
He backs up, mumbling some shit I can’t quite make out, but I think we
can all take a pretty good guess to the extent of it. I want to go after the
asshole and make him apologize to the woman, but it’s a safe bet she would
not appreciate the gesture in the least.
I should get out of here, but I don’t want to leave yet, even if it means
putting myself in this woman’s crosshairs once again.
Who am I kidding? I don’t mind being in her crosshairs.
I was so startled by the conversation that I had not stopped to take her in
fully. She is only an inch or two shorter than me, and I would bet she is
stronger than the pot-bellied dude, given her athletic build. Or at least, she
could hold her own. I try to not so obviously get a glimpse of the rest of her
body, but she clears her throat before my eyes can wander any further.
Snapping out of my obvious perusal, I stuff my hands in the pockets of
my pants and give her my best sheepish smile. The one that, when paired
with a shrug, has been getting me out of trouble for years.
Instead of being charmed, this time all I get is a roll of her eyes so hard,
they might be in danger of falling out.
Tough crowd.
Perhaps I will have to bring out the big guns, so to speak.
I cross my arms over my chest. As planned, her attention drifts to my
biceps, straining against my t-shirt. As luck would have it, I’m wearing one
of my favorite, almost threadbare shirts from the first year my business
opened. The shirt might be a tad on the tight side and something Brady will
give me shit for later, but no one can deny it works every time. I give a little
snort at my win. Quickly, she peers back up at me, face blank.
“Can I help you with something?”
I say nothing for a minute, while my mind whirls, trying to figure out
what the hell to say to this woman. I want to keep her talking. I want to
keep her here with me. She is gorgeous and sassy and clearly doesn’t
tolerate bullshit. But, I must take too long thinking because she unloads the
last of her stuff into the trunk of her SUV.
“Go home with me?”
She stills.
She whirls around and takes a step toward me. “Are you fucking for real?
You just witnessed that little shit show, and you thought, hmmm I know
what this girl needs. She needs to get hit on in the parking lot by a total
random. That will go over well with her.”
It was a joke. I meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but I’m realizing it
was the wrong time for a joke - specifically that joke.
I start to explain, to apologize, but the words aren’t coming out right.
Ignoring me, she spins her cart around and wheels it back into the stall.
I’m still fumbling for the right words when she hops in her car and drives
away.
Fuck.
This has never happened to me before. I’m never at a loss for words.
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Chapter Two
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SAWYER
I BREAK OUT IN a sweat as I’m pulling out of my parking spot. Check
that, I was already sweating, but I failed to notice while I was caught up in
what just went down in the parking lot. I reach up and touch my cheek,
wondering if it feels hot to the touch as I am burning up inside. Hopefully, I
haven’t pitted out my shirt.
A quick check confirms I’m all good.
By all rights, I should be flustered. I should be flustered from having to
deal with Captain Asshat from the parking lot and call out his sexist
behavior, but that shit is so commonplace these days it barely registered.
Thankfully, I have gotten better at dealing with those situations over the
years. But isn’t it sad, as a woman, that’s an area of growth for me - how to
deal with misogynists disguising their sexist behavior as that of a
“gentleman?”
That whole shitstorm should be the reason I’m off my game right now,
but no, I’m flustered because I embarrassed myself in front of the most
beautiful man I have ever seen.
For real.
I know I’m new to town, but is it common for male models to hang out
here? If so, things are looking up.
And not just any male model. A model that is my type. At least my type
in my dreams, or more accurately, my fantasies. Tall, dark brown hair with
a hint of a curl, the perfect amount of scruff, and strong, but not like he
hangs out in the weight room staring at his muscles all day. Seriously, could
he be more perfect-looking?
Then there was his smile. And it’s clear he knows exactly how potent it
is.
I shake my head at myself. Now, I’m being a shitty feminist. While he
wasn’t as bad as the first bro, he too assumed I needed help because I’m a
woman. However, I want to let him off the hook because he is so goddamn
gorgeous. So yeah, I’m a shitty feminist. At least on some days. The rest of
the time, I think I’m a pretty good feminist.
I’m waiting to turn left, so I dig around my purse for a hair thing and pull
my hair up off my neck, hoping it will help cool me down. I am midwrapping my ponytail when my attention is pulled to the car next to me.
Without thinking, I glance over and immediately regret it.
The star of my thoughts has pulled up next to me. Like mine, his
windows are down and he has his elbow resting on the open window,
looking like he is in a photoshoot for some rugged man shit. Whatever he is
selling, I’m for sure buying. His t-shirt, a little on the tight side, shows off a
body that I wouldn’t mind having wrapped around my own.
Running a hand through his hair, he smirks at me, forecasting his
awareness of the effect he is having on me. Of course.
The temporary relief I feel from getting my hair off my neck recedes and
my face flames again.
Asshole.
Hot asshole.
Nevertheless, asshole.
I channel my inner badass, reminding myself to not let him off the hook
just because he has a pretty face (and body), glance over at him again, and
say, “Of course, you drive a big truck.” Thankfully, I get the green arrow
right then and can pull away before I embarrass myself further.
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Chapter Three
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LOGAN
WELL, SHIT. THAT DID not go as planned.
As I had pulled up next to her, I figured this was my chance to apologize.
I didn’t want to startle her or come on too strong, so I waited for her to
notice me. Then, before I had a chance to apologize, she made that
comment.
I had to laugh.
I have nothing to compensate for.
But, it is funny. Even if it isn’t true. Definitely not true. Wait, do other
people think that about me? I use this truck for work - it is a necessity. I
have to haul lots of shit around. People know that. Right?
Damn, this girl has gotten in my head.
I drive down the road towards my house, the house I share with my
cousin and co-owner of our business, and I wonder if I will ever see her
again. Preserve, California isn’t a big town, but big enough where I might
never see her again. Plus, there is a solid chance she is a tourist given we
are situated at one entrance to Joshua Tree National Park.
Yeah, most likely I will never see her again. But I can think about her
when I jerk off tonight. That will have to do.
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Chapter Four
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SAWYER
USING THE MAP APP on my phone, I navigate to the house easy enough
and park in the street out front. Everything about this town and this new job
feels like I am living on a different planet. I have lived in lots of places and
yet, there is nothing about the desert that feels familiar. Beautiful in its own
right, but foreign. Even the temperature feels wrong, as it’s early September
and the high today was in the low nineties. Coming from the Northeast, it is
wildly different.
The trunk of my car is popped open, and I am debating how much beer to
bring in. I overbought, knowing full well I am trying to buy my new
coworkers’ affections with craft beer and delicious, homemade desserts. I
have been the new person often enough in my search to find a full-time
park ranger position to know for certain that people like you, or at least give
you a chance if you have food. Works every time.
“You need a hand?” A question, rather than a statement, from someone
behind me. Already off to a better start than my interaction earlier. Turning
around, I spot a woman about my age. “Any chance you’re Sawyer?”
I let out a quick breath of relief and nod, but before I have a chance to
speak, she pulls me into a hug. “I’m Mae and I can’t even begin to explain
how excited I am that you are here.”
The hug itself isn’t awkward, but Mae is at least six inches shorter than
me, and this means she has to pull me down into the hug. She’s strong as
hell though, as she has no problem pulling me down to her height.
After letting go, I still haven’t said a word, but this doesn’t deter Mae.
“You think I’m joking, but seriously, I have been praying for another female
ranger to work with, and here you are. Sawyer, you are literally the stuff of
my dreams.” She pauses, tilts her head to the side, and crinkles her nose,
“As I say that out loud, I am hearing what a creeper I’m sounding like.” She
shrugs her shoulders as if to say, “what are you going to do?”
Mae pauses again, and it gives me a moment to catch up. I have to stop
laughing first. “Not creepy at all, Mae. Well, scratch that, maybe you are the
perfect amount of creepy. I mean, everyone always pretends like they don’t
do creepy shit, but when is the last time a day passed and you hadn’t done a
little light online stalking?”
I let my guard down, and my mouth got away from me. I wince because
this isn’t the first impression I’m going for. I steal a glance at Mae, getting
ready to tell her I am kidding, when I notice her jaw is dropped.
She reaches out and lightly slaps my arm. “For fuck’s sake, Sawyer, I
think we are soul mates!” She grabs the beer while I pick up the desserts
and shut the door to my trunk as we take off towards the house.
I feel a thousand times lighter than earlier. Not only did Mae solve my
problem of having to awkwardly enter the get-together by myself, but she
also put me at ease for my first day of work.
Most people would assume as a park ranger for the National Park Service
that I am an extrovert, but making small talk and starting conversations is
always difficult for me. I have no problem answering questions or taking
charge on the job, but sitting around and shooting the shit with new people
is a particular form of torture for me.
Still, when I got a text from one of my new co-workers, Daniel,
introducing himself and inviting me to this work get-together tonight, I
knew I couldn’t pass it up. Tomorrow is my first day, and I am determined
to start on a good note. So even though showing up to a get-together
knowing no one is pretty much the last thing on Earth I want to do, I didn’t
want to miss out.
While there are plenty of women in the National Parks Service these
days, a majority are still men. So this is a great opportunity to meet some of
my new colleagues and make a good first impression. With cookies and
beer. I’m banking on them remembering that about me and not how I
struggle with meeting new people.
I’ll treat myself to a few cookies, but I will have to draw the line at one
beer. First and most importantly, I have to drive home and I can be a bit of a
lightweight. Second, I may or may not go into full repeat mode when
intoxicated and then all the cookies and beer would be for naught. Can’t
show all my ugly the first night. So, one beer seems like the best bet for
tonight.
Instead of heading for the front door of the ranch-style home, Mae heads
around to the back and I stick close to her.
I like that whoever this co-worker Daniel is—and he seems nice enough,
based on his texts, Mae feels comfortable enough to head straight to his
backyard. Seems like a good sign.
I try, and fail, to appreciate the desert landscape. To be clear, the desert is
breathtaking, especially in the Park. But, I am having a hard time with these
neighborhoods in the middle of the desert - there is something about them
that’s not right.
I moved into my townhouse two days ago and am still getting settled. It’s
nice enough, cute even, but it’s the same as every neighborhood here that I
drive through, barren and neglected.
At first glance, the snob in me thought no one around here cared about
their yard. Then, I realized what an idiot I am because people don’t have
yards in the desert. Well, they have yards, but not lawns. And upon closer
inspection, I realize plenty of people take great care of the exterior of their
homes, however; it is different from anything I have ever experienced
before. Given many of them lack greenery or at least much greenery, there
is a sense of neglect compared to other parts of the county. But that isn’t
true at all. It’s just different.
The same way that where I grew up in New York City was a unique
beauty compared to where I spent my summers with my grandparents in the
mountains of North Carolina. And the glory of those mountains differed
from the majesty of the Rockies where I went to college. And every aweinspiring place that my quest to become a full-time park ranger took me
after.
I’m incredibly lucky to have seen so much of this country. It never fails
to amaze me. It is one of the primary motivations driving me to be a park
ranger - I have often felt it is my duty to share my love of nature with
others. Over three hundred million people are living in the United States
and so many of them do not know even a fraction of what this country
possesses. It doesn’t matter what part of the country you live in, everyone
can find nature to render them speechless close to home. It has always felt
like this is a secret I know and I must let people in on it. I realize this idea is
corny as hell, but it’s the truth. And it’s what made me want to be a park
ranger.
Ending up in the desert had not been on my radar, but here I am. And
despite my initial, ignorant judgments, this place is beautiful. But there is
something more at work. I have only been here two days and had minimal
interactions with humans, yet I feel a sense of peace, a sense of home. I
can’t explain it, but for the first time in a long time, I feel settled. Even
though my life is anything but at the moment.
My mind jumps back to the present as Mae and I turn the corner and a
group of people comes into view. The group, made up mostly of guys, turns
to us. One guy breaks away from the rest of the group and closes the
distance between us.
“Mae,” he says, nodding her way. Turning to me, he sticks out his hand.
“Hey there, I’m Daniel. I’m assuming you are Sawyer?”
There is something about him that seems so genuine that some of the
tension seeps out of my body. I’m not great at small talk with random
people, but if people are nice, I can hold my own.
Nodding my head, I stick out my hand to shake his. “Yes. It’s nice to
meet you. Thank you so much for inviting me.”
He waves me off. “Of course. Let’s get you two drinks.” Pointing to Mae,
he asks, “Want me to throw those in the fridge?”
Checking with me for confirmation, Mae nods. “Sure. Sawyer brought
the good beer. You know my cheap ass would never have brought this highquality stuff to share with you dipshits.”
They share a laugh and my heart squeezes a bit and I don’t even care that
I’m grinning like a weirdo. I have not felt this level of comfort with people
I just met before, which is insane because I have been here about ten
seconds, have said about ten words, and only met two people.
“Well, thank you, Sawyer. Much appreciated, but unnecessary.”
“No problem,” I reply. Holding up the containers in my hand, I ask,
“Where should I put these? I like to bake, so I might have gone a little
overboard on the desserts.”
“I can help with those,” another guy bounds over to us and the
introductions begin. Two minutes later, I have met several other rangers and
some of their significant others. I feel like an asshole because I’m so
nervous that all the names go in one ear and out the other. Hopefully, no one
will be offended when I ask for their names again.
A short while later, Mae and I are mid-conversation with Daniel and his
boyfriend, Anthony. Party-goers interrupt us constantly, stopping to
compliment the desserts I brought. Great success. Delicious desserts work
every time.
For the most part, I’m a pretty modest person, but I sure as shit know I
can bake. Still, I wave off all the compliments while mentally fist-pumping.
Before I know it, several hours have passed. I pull my phone out of my
purse to check the time when Mae comes up to me. “Getting ready to take
off?”
“I think so,” I reply. “Tomorrow’s my first day.” Grimacing, I continue,
“I feel like we hung out a lot tonight, but didn’t get a chance for just the two
of us to chat. I hope we can soon.”
Mae laughs. “Not to worry. You are about to get sick as hell of me.
Tomorrow, after you finish all of your first-day bullshit, you then are going
to be paired up with me during your training.”
This day keeps getting better and better. “Seriously? Ah, you are my
hero. Thanks for telling me. This eases almost all of my first-day nerves.”
“No worries. As soon as I heard a new female ranger was joining us, I
started pestering the boss non-stop until she agreed to let us partner up
during your training. These guys are cool, but sometimes I need girl time.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Anyway, thank God you’re cool. I would have been shit out of luck if
you were a total dick.”
I can’t stop laughing around this girl.
We say our goodbyes to everyone and head out.
As I head back towards my new townhouse—which Mae informed me
that she and several of the other rangers live in the same complex—I feel so
much lighter than I did earlier in the day.
I was a little thrown from my interaction outside the grocery store mainly because the second guy was so goddamn beautiful; I forgot how to
be a human.
Whatever. Not worth thinking about.
What is worth thinking about?
I have a full-time position working for the National Parks Service as an
Interpretative Ranger at Joshua Tree National Park.
Saying it all together like that makes me smile so hard and do a little
shoulder shimmy. I take a moment to feel proud, standing up a little
straighter and not bothering to hide the smile that breaks out on my face.
Ever since I was hired a few weeks ago, it has been non-stop activity to
quit my part-time ranger position at Acadia National Park in Maine, tie up
loose ends there, stop in New York City to see my parents and sister, and
then take off on a cross-country road trip to get to Southern California and
get settled. All before my first day tomorrow. It has been a whirlwind. The
only part I’m sad about is that it was the first time I have driven across the
country and there were so many places I wanted to stop, but I knew
realistically I needed to not take too many detours.
I pushed it to get out here quickly, but I am glad I did. I spent the last two
days getting settled into my one-bedroom townhouse. It’s dated, but it was
clean when I moved in, so no complaints. Luckily, it came partially
furnished, as I only brought what I could fit in my small SUV. While it
didn’t take long to get unpacked, it’s clear there is going to be more online
shopping in my future, especially because there are not a ton of choices way
out here.
None of that matters, though, at least not immediately. I’m grateful I was
able to get out here and meet a few people before work starts tomorrow.
Everyone I met tonight was nice. I know that’s not the most glowing
review to give people, but to me it’s important. I have lived and worked in a
lot of places where people weren’t necessarily nice and it’s not fun. I realize
every person I met tonight is not going to be my best friend and I’m fine
with that, but I felt a sense of belonging. I try not to get my hopes up too
much. Belonging is something I have never quite felt.
I make myself stop thinking about everything. I don’t want to put too
much pressure on everything to be perfect. Tomorrow is my first day and I
need a good night’s rest, but I can’t stop smiling.
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Chapter Five
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SAWYER
“I WAS GETTING HANGRY, so I started without you.”
I roll my eyes at Mae. “Well, we can’t have that.” I steal a glance at our
surroundings. “This is the perfect lunch spot.”
“I know. Don’t tell anyone about it, or I’ll shun you for life.” She makes
a face I can assume is supposed to be threatening, but makes her look
constipated. “It might seem like I’m kidding, but I’m not.”
“Oh, I believe it.” It’s the perfect spot. Despite the immense beauty of
Joshua Tree, in the middle of the day, it is severely lacking in shade. At
least, easily accessible shade. Nevertheless, Mae found the perfect spot
hidden by an enormous boulder. The same boulder which is providing relief
from the sun. It’s still warm in the shade, but it’s a thousand times better
than sitting in direct sunlight. I was not gifted with skin that appreciates
direct sunlight. If I’m not careful (i.e. dipped in sunscreen at all times), I
appear rather splotchy and lobster-like. “Thanks for the chair.”
Mae takes a bite of her sandwich and gives me a thumbs up. “I put the
second chair in my car over a year ago, but you are the first one I have
deemed worthy.”
“Seems like a high honor.”
“The highest.”
Changing the subject, I ask a question that has been on my mind since
arriving in town. “So is swamp ass a constant around here, or is it just me?”
Seriously, I have been sweating nonstop all day long. I am used to hard
work and being sweaty, but this desert heat is no joke.
Mae laughs. “Get used to it. Wait until summer. By the end of the day,
you’ll be able to wring out your underwear.”
“Something to look forward to then.”
“The one good thing about these uniforms,” she gestures to the dark
green pants and khaki shirts we both wear, identifying us as park rangers,
“is that I have not ever seen anyone sweat through the pants. But who
knows, maybe you can be the first. That can be something you work
towards.”
“Everyone needs a goal, right?” We laugh together at our ridiculousness.
We eat in silence for a bit and it isn’t awkward, not at all. Normally, in a
situation like this, I would struggle to find something mundane to talk about
- the weather or sports, two things I don’t give a shit about. But with Mae, I
can just be. I’m not sure if I have ever had a friend like this before.
In all my past friendships, even in those from college where I formed the
most genuine relationships, I always felt pressure. Maybe pressure isn’t the
right word, but I never felt completely comfortable or at ease. I never fit in
or felt compatible, always remaining on the periphery of relationships with my classmates and even at home with my family.
The only time I have felt completely at ease in the past are the summers I
spent with my grandparents. At their home, in the mountains of North
Carolina, I truly felt home. At peace. Like I was who I was supposed to be.
Living with my parents and sister in New York was fine. They are good
people. I love them, and I never wanted for anything, but we have never
understood each other.
My parents are workaholics who spend almost zero time outside. If they
aren’t working, then they are attending some “important” event. My sister,
Kylie, who is three years younger than me, fits in with them perfectly. No
surprise then, as the daughter who always wanted to be outside and wasn’t
into dressing up to attend boring functions, we never have been on the same
page.
Starting at the age of nine, I spent most of my summers with my
grandparents and I lived for that time. My grandpa and I would work in his
garden and I would hike with my grandma. I would roam their property and
hang out with kids nearby. I never dated one guy the entire time I lived in
New York, but all of my firsts - first kiss, first time getting felt up, first time
having sex - took place during those summers. Other firsts as well were
experienced there: first time getting drunk, first time running from the cops,
and even the first time sneaking out at night. I felt alive during the summer
and a shell of myself the rest of the time. The first few months, postsummer, when I returned home to New York, I would reminisce about the
past summer, replaying my favorite memories time and time again. Then,
right around the new year, I would switch over to daydreaming about what
adventures the following summer would bring.
Not since my last summer spent with my grandparents - between my
sophomore and junior years of high school - have I felt this comfortable in
my skin.
“So this morning wasn’t too torturous?” Mae’s question breaks through
my trip down memory lane.
“No. I mean, sure parts were brutal - like all the training videos and stuff
from HR, but I’m such a geek that I was excited to take my oath of office.”
Mae laughs. “You are a nerd.”
“This won’t help my nerd status, but I was also excited to get my
schedule for the next month. It was satisfying to add it to my Google
calendar.” I cover my face and duck my head as I wait for Mae’s response.
“What the hell am I going to do with you?” she asks. “We are for sure
going to have fun together. Both in and out of work.”
Mae seems relaxed about almost everything, so I decide to share one
more thought from this morning. “Jameson seems like a good boss?” It’s
somewhere between a question and a statement.
Jameson is Heather Jameson and our boss, the Supervisory Park Ranger
for Visitor Services. As interpretive rangers, both Mae and I fall under her
jurisdiction as she oversees both the education and interpretative program.
In my various short-term tenures at different national parks, I have yet to
work for a woman. Until now. My first impression was great, not because
she is a woman, but because she seems to know her shit, is organized and is
an excellent communicator. But, seeing as I have spent limited time with
her, I want to know more.
“Yeah, she’s pretty great. But, this is the only park I have worked at, so I
have nothing to compare it to. She’s the boss. I don’t always agree with
everything she says, but she’s fair and you know what to expect with her.
Plus, she’s cool. Sorry, I feel like that’s a terrible answer. The only thing I
know for sure is I love working here. There’s a lot more to it than her, but
she plays a part in it.”
I take in what Mae has said before explaining further. “I only ask because
while I wouldn’t change any of my experiences at the different parks I have
worked at, but just about every one of them has been a boys’ club. At times
it was overt sexism and misogyny and other times microaggressions here
and there, but either way, I’m over it. So, I guess I’m asking how bad it is
here. I want to know how to prepare myself.”
Tipping her head to the side, it’s clear Mae is surprised by my question.
“As I said, I have only ever worked here, so I have nothing else to compare
it to, but I don’t necessarily feel that way - that it’s a boys’ club - here.
Maybe, because, in our little microcosm, we have a female boss. Maybe it’s
because the guys that work here aren’t shitheads. Maybe I’m used to it and
don’t even notice it anymore - not saying that’s right, just pointing it out as
a possibility. Honestly, I don’t know.”
It isn’t exactly the answer I’m expecting, but I appreciate her honesty.
“Thanks.”
“Now that I’m saying all of this out loud and actually thinking about it, I
had a thought. I don’t think there is an overt problem with sexism within the
ranks here. I would notice it because I always notice it. There is a problem
with sexism from visitors to the park, though. Many of them - men and
women - will question the help or service you provide because they assume
since you are a woman, you are incompetent.”
I purse my lips, not because I am surprised, this is nothing new. But,
because if Mae is bringing it up, then it must be truly bothersome, as I am
quickly learning it takes a lot to ruffle her feathers.
Mae must have seen my reaction and attempts to explain further. “Most
of the visitors are awesome people. There are, of course, selfish pricks in
the mix as well, but a lot of times that has nothing to do with being sexist at least not directly. Even the people that are sexist and make assumptions
about us because we are women - they aren’t necessarily assholes, just
sexist.”
“I tend to think sexist people are assholes. One plus one equals two.”
Mae shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t say more. It appears there is finally
something we might not see eye to eye on.
We finish up our lunches, and as we carry the chairs back to the Jeep she
is using today, she tells me about our plans for the rest of the day.
“What a fun lunchtime conversation!” Mae grimaces. She has a point, but
I don’t regret taking our conversation in that direction, because those are
questions I have wanted answers to since first accepting this job. “Don’t
worry, things are looking up, though. You get to spend the rest of the day
with yours truly. And the best part is we don’t have to do anything in
particular. Jameson told me to give you the full tour and help out if we are
needed. So buckle up sister, let’s go.”
Hours later, I walk through the doors of my townhouse, only to fall down
on the couch. Normally, I would consider my current sweaty, sticky
situation too disgusting to be laying on the couch, but this big old brown
couch came with the rental and replacing it is one of the first things on my
to-do list. I am thoroughly exhausted and yet so happy. I am also
completely soaked and am in desperate need of a shower. And food. Lots of
food. If I can only talk myself into getting up.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Six
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
USING MY FOREARM, I once again swipe it across my face, hoping to
soak up the sweat dripping down. Goddamn lug nut. It is the last one and,
of course, it’s stuck.
One more try. Using the wrench, I give it everything I have.
Ehhhhhhhhh. Nothing.
I throw the wrench down, choosing to take the high road and not chuck it
at the idiot next to me. Someone forgot to tell Denver that he should show
deference to his boss, not enjoy the hell out of this moment.
“Let me give it a go.”
I give Denver a look. He isn’t weak by any means, but we both know I’m
the stronger one. Or, at least I know that. I shrug my shoulders.
I co-own an adventure tour guide company with my cousin, Brady. Brady
is the business end, and I guide the tours. Our company, Wild Times, offers
hiking, camping, and driving tours of Joshua Tree. Over the past four years,
we have grown quite a bit and Denver is one of our employees and guides.
We have been successful because, besides providing people with a safe way
to experience the National Park, we are also a lot of fun.
We finished a successful hiking tour and were heading back to the dropoff point when we got the flat. Denver was able to pull into a nearby
parking lot so we can change the tire. I don’t want my waiting customers in
the van to get restless and have this part of the trip be the one thing they
remember. I’m willing to try anything, even entertain the thought of Denver
being stronger than me.
He picks up the wrench and in about two seconds, he has the lug nut off.
Then, proceeds to fall to the ground and about dies laughing.
“Give me that.” I tear the wrench from his hand and quickly get the old
tire off and the new one in its place. Denver is still rolling around in the dirt
when I finish up. I am about to stand up from the position I am kneeling in
when I hear a voice from behind me.
“Everything good here?” My body instantly goes on high alert. Is it her?
The woman from the grocery store parking lot? Or have I replayed our
conversation so many times that I now think every woman is her? I am
almost afraid to turn around and be disappointed, but Denver beats me to
the punch.
“Mae. The love of my life. Hello. And I don’t believe I have had the
pleasure of making your acquaintance. I’m Denver, and my boy here is
Logan.”
Gathering myself, I stand up and turn around.
And I can’t keep the smile off of my face, so I don’t even bother to try.
I have never found the park ranger uniform to be particularly sexy - until
today. The ill-fitting green pants and boxy khaki shirt, of course, do nothing
for her body. Not like last time I saw her when she was wearing those tight
black pants that hugged her ass. While I had been fumbling for my words as
she stormed away from me in the parking lot, I still managed to check out
her ass. I wasn’t a total newbie.
Today, she is surprised to see me too.
Good. Last time she got the upper hand on me. That will not be
happening again. I wish I wasn’t dirty as hell from kneeling in the dirt and
sweating like a pig, but some chicks dig that look. Right? I can work with
this.
“Hey Mae,” I say. Mae knows her? Why wasn’t I aware of this? This was
better luck than I had imagined. I turn and give my mystery women my full
attention. “As Denver pointed out, I’m Logan. We never had time to
exchange names last time.”
Even under the shade of her hat, I can tell my insinuation makes her
blush. The combination of her redden cheeks and the smattering of freckles
across her face is too much. This woman is fucking hot and adorable at the
same time. And somehow, a badass as she stands there in her ranger
uniform, assessing me.
Mae has the biggest smile on her face as her head swivels back and forth
between us, and I can hear Denver lose it beside me again.
I don’t take my eyes off of her. She’s pissed. Good. I liked her pissed.
“It’s not what you think,” she explains, turning to Mae. “We met in a
grocery store parking lot —”
Denver elbows me. “Nice. I have been known to close the deal a time or
two in unconventional places, but never parking lots. Maybe I will have to
start hanging out there more often.”
Mae barks out a laugh. “Yeah Denver, keep hanging out in parking lots,
hitting on women. That will end well.”
I let it go on long enough and decide not to be a total asshole. “She’s
right. We randomly met in the parking lot and exchanged a few words.
That’s it.” In addition to the number of times she has starred in my fantasies
over the past couple of days, I have also thought about how I want to
apologize to her.
Turning back to her, I take off my hat, run my fingers through my sweatmatted hair, and replace it on my head. I am slow-playing this in order to
gather my thoughts enough so I say nothing that could be interpreted as
dickish this time. “I’m glad I ran into you again, as I wanted to explain
about the other day. I was trying to apologize when I pulled up next to you
and you insulted my truck. Or was it my cock?” I shrug my shoulders.
“Unclear. Either way, I wanted to say I was sorry because you were right. I
still don’t know how I won’t jump in if I see a woman being harassed, but I
see your point. And although it was a joke, it was immediately clear that
asking you to go home with me after all of that was not the right move. So,
yeah. I’m sorry.”
I must have done okay with the apology because it earns me a smile from
her, albeit a small one, but I will take it. “Thank you.” She sticks out her
hand. “I’m Sawyer. It’s nice to officially meet you, Logan.”
I shake her hand, and I may drag out the moment a bit too long as Denver
starts laughing again. “What?” I turn to him as I drop her hand.
“I think that’s the first time I have ever heard you apologize for
anything.”
“Not true.”
“It is one hundred percent true. Normally, you smile, shrug your
shoulders, and assume that shit will let you get away with whatever you
want.”
No respect for the boss. And while Denver may have been on to
something, there was no way in hell I’m going to admit it now.
In the time Denver and I were arguing, Mae and Sawyer (her name is
Sawyer!) had turned around and were heading back to their Jeep.
“Later, ladies,” Denver calls out to them.
They both give a wave without turning around.
I want to stop them. I want to say more. But, I don’t know what I would
say. Also, I have a van full of paying customers to attend to, and now that I
know her name and where she works, not to mention that she knows Mae, I
will see her again. I can’t help it if my job happens to bring me to her place
of employment at least five days a week.
What are the chances?
Not bothering to hide my cheesy grin, I open the driver’s side door and
hop in. “My apologies everyone. Let’s get you back to your cars.”
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Seven
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
“SO WHAT’S THE WHAT with you and Logan?” Mae asks by way of
greeting.
I sigh and drop my head. The second I open the door to let Mae in, she is
already on me. I was hoping to put off this conversation, but no such luck.
Earlier when we left Denver and Logan behind, as soon as we were back in
the Jeep, Mae received a call from the boss telling us to head back to the
Visitors’ Center. From there, we split up and spent the rest of the day on
different assignments, thereby not giving us a chance to recap the surprise
run-in.
It’s hours later and I still have not wrapped my head around it. I had, of
course, Googled Logan’s business, Wild Times. And as a result, I went
down the rabbit hole of online stalking. He and his cousin run a guided tour
company that provides various tours of Joshua Tree. Based on the reviews,
people love them and have nothing but rave reviews about all the guides,
especially Logan. There might be some light sexual harassment of him in
the comments.
I think of those smart ass smirks he gave me when he knew what effect
he was having on me. He probably loves all of that attention.
Shit. Did I really think that? Cringing at myself, I send up an apology for
those thoughts. Not okay.
Anyway, besides being gorgeous, he seems to run a successful business.
Not exactly a turn-off. And he’s charming. Then there was his apology. He
seemed sincere, and it impressed me that he had no problem eating crow in
front of Mae and one of his employees. Also not turn-offs.
Don’t do this, I tell myself. Don’t crush on the most beautiful boy. Don’t
go down this road, because it only ends in disappointment. The ones I like
are never interested in me. Besides, there is no chance he doesn’t have a
girlfriend. A guy as attractive and funny as Logan doesn’t stay single long.
Mae side-steps me and makes her way to my kitchen. We have plans to
make dinner together tonight. Immediately, she makes herself at home and
gets to work on the guacamole. Technically, we were supposed to make
everything together, but once I finished cleaning up after work, I didn’t feel
like waiting around for her to come over, so I got to work on dinner,
assuming she wouldn’t care if that meant we would eat a little sooner.
We work side by side, putting the finishing touches on dinner. Like
everything else in this townhouse, the kitchen is small and outdated, not my
dream kitchen, but it works for now. However, making sure everything had
a spot was the first task I took on once I took over the lease on this place. I
use the kitchen a lot, so even though I would love to have a place with a
bigger, newer kitchen, as long as I keep this one clean and uncluttered, it
will suffice.
Once everything is ready, we pick up plates from the counter and fill
them with the sweet potato and black bean tacos. I grab a bag of plantain
chips to go with the guac Mae made, and we head out to my back patio.
Once outside, we sit on separate sides of the rickety picnic table on my back
patio. It is a nice, shaded space, but the table leaves a lot to be desired. It’s
another piece of furniture left behind by the last renters. Other than some
twinkly lights, I haven’t yet decorated this space to my liking. I have all
kinds of ideas, but I think I need to temper them as this is a rental.
Trying to get comfortable and eventually giving up, I declare, “Getting
comfy patio furniture needs to move up to the top of my to-do list.” It might
be hot as hell in the middle of the day here, but the mornings and nights are
beautiful and I plan on spending a lot of time out here.
Mae pins me with her stare.
“What?” I ask.
“While I agree this situation is currently lacking comfort, I cannot
emphasize enough how much I don’t care. What do I care about you ask?
Why thank you for asking. I care about you. And Logan.” Then, she makes
a circle with her thumb and forefinger on one hand and uses the forefinger
on her other hand to go in and out. The universal sign for fucking. And
despite being something a thirteen-year-old boy does, it makes me snort.
And love Mae even more, because she is gross and immature and I too am
gross and immature.
“Seriously, Sawyer. Give me the goods.”
“Fine.” I quickly recap the grocery store parking lot incident. Mae is
appropriately pissed in all the right places. Then she dies laughing when I
tell her about when he pulled up next to me. I am still a little mortified
about that part. Except Logan made me laugh today when he brought it up
during his apology, so maybe it wasn’t as cringeworthy as I remember.
“I love it all,” Mae says. “So, when are you going to see him again?
My facial reaction must say it all because instead of asking this time, her
words come out as a demand. “You’re going to see him again.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I try to find my words. “I mean, yeah, I’m sure
I’ll run into him again. I work in the park, he kind of works in the park. So
it’s bound to happen.”
This is not good enough for Mae. “You think Logan is hot, right?”
Fuck yes. “Yes.”
“Good personality?”
“From what I can tell.”
“Crazy sexual tension between the two of you?”
This is where I stop her. Shaking my head, I try to laugh it off.
“What?” she asks. “I’m serious, Sawyer. It was crackling between you
two today.”
“Fine. I’m attracted to him. But have you seen him? He’s beautiful. He
could get any girl.” I pause. “Does he have...a girlfriend? That you know
of?”
Mae claps her hands together, then rubs them back and forth. “Yes. I
mean, no. He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
I try not to smile at this bit of information, because once again, what does
it matter? I’m never the girl that gets the guy. At least not the guy that I
want. I’ve had my share of hookups and a few boyfriends, but I can
honestly say it’s not because any guy has ever spotted me and thought, I
want her. It’s because I have either gone after him or somehow won him
over with my personality. I’m not that girl. I’m always the hot girl’s friend.
The one standing there awkwardly while my friend gets hit on, trying not to
laugh at the cheesy ass pickup lines being thrown down.
I appraise Mae and realize even though we have clicked instantly, I have
once again put myself in a familiar situation. Mae is gorgeous. Dark black
hair, reaching down to the middle of her back. Effortlessly gorgeous and
only enhanced by being the coolest chick I have ever met.
It’s not like I think I’m hideous. I know I’m not. I eat healthy and work
out a lot, so I’m in good shape. I take care of myself. I’m tall—right at six
feet, but I have always loved my height. Being tall, strong, and athletic is
something I enjoy. I’ve just never been the girl. You know, the one that guys
hit on. And in some ways that’s great, but it’s also not.
“Where’d you go there?”
I realize I have been staring off to the side. “Sorry, I got lost in thought.”
“About Logan?” Mae asks.
Shaking my head, I reply, “Don’t do this. It’s not going to happen.”
“Fine. I’ll drop it. For now.”
We go back to eating and I realize it is already Thursday, almost the end
of my first week and our first week of working together. While our
schedules aren’t normal, nine to five, Monday thru Friday, somehow we
both have this weekend off. We have yet to make any plans for the
weekend, but there are many parts of Joshua Tree I want to explore - as a
visitor, not an employee.
Before I can run any ideas past Mae, she pulls out her phone and checks
it. “Tomorrow night we are going to my friend Wilder’s house. We are
going to grill out and have a bonfire. I want you to meet the rest of my
friends. You interested?”
Hanging with Mae comes naturally. There is no bullshit, no guessing
games. She has made it clear from the start that she wants to be my friend. I
nod. “I’m in. Can’t wait to meet the weirdos who claim you.”
She laughs.
We finish up eating, and then I give Mae a tour of my new place. It’s not
too exciting, especially considering her place is almost identical to mine,
but I use the opportunity to run some decorating ideas past her. It will not
be anything too crazy since it is a rental, mostly curtains and wall hangings.
I might even get a little wild with some shelves. Who knows? We chat
about different ideas for a bit before she heads home.
While my thoughts keep drifting to Logan and whatever may or may not
be happening between us, one thing is for sure: Mae is my girl. I’ve never
had a friend like her and even though it’s only been a couple of days, she is
the one person in my life that I have no questions about.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eight
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
I STARE OUT THE window of my office, watching two jackrabbits run
across our property. Besides owning Wild Times with Brady, we also coown this house. We were warned by many, many people not to get into
business with family, but since we are both stubborn as hell, we ignored all
of them. So far, so good.
We converted our detached garage to store the Wild Times vehicles and
recently finished an addition, our office is now attached to the garage.
Brady is the only one that spends a significant amount of time in the office,
but we have already used the space a lot since we finished the renovation
earlier this year.
Wild Times works because Brady is a genius on the business end. He
takes care of all our contracts, money, website, hiring, etc. He’s ridiculously
smart and detail-oriented. I am in charge of the tours, training employees,
and such. The combination of our skill sets has put Wild Times in an
excellent position financially only four years in. Yes, people consistently
review our tours with five stars, but none of that would happen without
Brady and everything he does behind the scenes. Left to me, the business
would have sunk in under a year. And if he had to lead a tour, or talk to
people? His worst nightmare. We make a good team.
Right now, Brady is being Brady and trying to talk to me about next
month’s schedule, but my mind keeps wandering. Who am I kidding? There
is not much wandering going on. It’s more like my mind is making a
beeline... straight to Sawyer.
I haven’t been able to think of much else since I saw her yesterday. I try
to discreetly adjust myself, don’t want Brady to think I’m sporting wood
over this spreadsheet he’s showing me. That’s more up his alley.
During our run-in last weekend in the parking lot of the grocery store, I
didn’t have a chance to take her in. I mean, I saw her, and I thought she was
pretty and feisty and a fucking badass, but I hadn’t been able to examine
her. Okay, that sounds creepy, even to my ears.
Yesterday, when I was apologizing and while she was explaining to Mae
how we met, I took my time ogling her. I was checking her out, and I did
nothing to pretend otherwise.
She has dark brown hair that reaches to her shoulders and a smattering of
light freckles across her nose and cheeks that are so fucking adorable. It is
more than that, though. It’s everything about her. Not just her hair or eye
color, but the way she spoke her mind to that asshole in the parking lot or
hell - the way she spoke to me. She is smart and quick and doesn’t back
down from a fight. And I could tell she appreciated my apology yesterday.
I shake my head at my stupidity. That was maybe the worst description of
someone ever. Is it too fucking cheesy to say there is just something about
her? Yes, I chastise myself; it is. Get a grip.
“So, what do you think?”
“Uh—what—yeah. Sounds good.” Smooth recovery dickhead.
Brady shakes his head at me. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. Sorry. Got distracted. What’s up?”
”Is it that girl?”
“What girl?” I ask, going still, trying to play it off. It’s a legitimate
question, seeing as though Brady has never met Sawyer and we know a lot
of girls.
I’m not fooling anyone because although he doesn’t say anything, he
does sigh like the long-suffering asshat he is. “Sawyer.” There is no
question there.
“How do you know who Sawyer is?” As soon as the question is out of
my mouth, I realize the answer. “Fucking Denver. I bet he couldn’t wait to
come back here and run his mouth.”
Brady pushes his chair away from the table, leans back, crosses one leg
over the other, and strokes his beard. That beard. He’s a fucking grizzly
man with it. He thinks I’m jealous I can’t grow one like his. I scoff at the
notion. My scruff and I are doing just fine. Thank you very much.
“There’s nothing to tell, she’s some girl I met.” Lie. And while I’m a
skilled storyteller, I’m not necessarily a great liar. And besides, this is
Brady. He would be the one person in the world who could tell. Also,
possibly my mom. And dad. And all of my siblings. Oh, for fuck’s sake,
I’m a shitty liar and everyone knows it.
Brady smiles at me. The fucker. He says nothing but continues to doodle
on a piece of paper.
“Just say it,” I demand. I’m not pissed, but for whatever reason, I’m
getting more riled up than normal.
“Say what?” he asks. “That I haven’t seen you this pissy over a girl in a
long ass time.”
Four years is what he means. I haven’t given a shit about a girl in the last
four years. And that is something I don’t plan on changing. I’m not going
down that road again. Maybe that makes me an asshole to all the women I
have hooked up with, but I have always been clear about what I wanted.
Besides, most of them are only passing through, so it works out perfectly.
Also, I don’t sleep with clients. That’s a great way to fuck up the business.
“I’m not pissy,” I respond, but even to my ears, I can tell I sound pissy.
“She’s just some girl that I met. I don’t know anything about her other than
her name.” Except, she’s gorgeous and smart and doesn’t take shit from
anybody. Oh, and she’s a park ranger. Maybe I know a bit about her.
Maybe I want to know more.
I must forecast my thoughts clear as day, because Brady laughs to
himself. He’s not as obnoxious as Denver, but there is no way he will let me
get away with this either.
“Oh-kay,” Brady responds. “Can we get this done? Some of us have
work to do.”
I’d give him my best death stare, but let’s get real—I don’t have one. I
settle for flipping him off. There, that’s better.
He laughs again.
After we finish up, I pick up lunch before heading into the park. I have a
private tour this afternoon. It’s Friday afternoon and I’m not crazy excited
about it, but people will pay big money for a private tour, so it’s rare I will
turn one down. Besides, even though it’s Friday afternoon, it’s not the end
of the work week for me. I tend to take my days off on Tuesday or
Wednesday - it changes week to week. And I won’t pretend like I’m not
dying to head back into the park right now, given that every time I do,
there’s a chance I could see Sawyer. She’s a little something to look forward
to. Then, when I’m all done for the day, I’m going to head to my buddy’s
house to hang out tonight. That’s something more realistic to be excited
about.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Nine
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
MY FACE IS STARTING to hurt from smiling so much. I don’t know what
I expected though. Of course, the people Mae claims as friends would not
only be lovely human beings, but fun as hell too.
We are having a cookout and bonfire at Mae’s friend Wilder’s house. I
would guess he’s about ten years older than us and ridiculously attractive.
Jet black hair cut close on the sides and a little longer on top, styled just so,
making me guess he is better at doing hair than I am. Then, there are his
green eyes and a closely cropped beard sprinkled with just a bit of gray that
is attractive in a way that I had not considered for me before. He’s a smoke
show.
That paired with it becoming instantly clear he is kind, generous, and
loves to play host so that Mae and the rest of their friends always have some
place to gather. Well yeah, ridiculously attractive.
I can’t tell if this is where their friend group gathers because Wilder is a
great host, or if it’s because he has the nicest house of all of them. While I
haven’t been inside the house yet, I can tell I’m going to drool over it. It’s a
ranch, with white-washed siding and a backyard that makes me eat my
words (thoughts) from the other day when I was thinking the desert makes
everything look barren.
Just outside his back door is a covered patio with a large wooden table
where I can imagine them all gathering to eat and laugh. Edison lights hang
from the ceiling and while it’s not completely dark yet, they still give off a
soft, romantic vibe. Next to the table, there is a seating area with some
comfy-looking chairs and a hammock strung up.
Note to self: get a hammock for my back patio. It looks nothing like this
fantasy come to life, but it’s still an idea that I’m stealing from Wilder.
Off the covered patio, there is a short cement walkway to a stone fire pit
surrounded by chairs.
It’s to die for. Not to mention the expert landscaping embracing the desert
feel. I have walked onto the set of a photoshoot in the desert. Now, I can’t
wait to see the inside.
Wilder is at the grill, and another buddy of theirs, Grey, is sitting with me
at the table under the patio. We chat with Wilder, keeping him company
while he tends to the food. Grey is in the middle of a story about a recent
trail they fixed that was causing more problems than they had originally
thought.
Go figure, he’s attractive as well, but in a much different way. He’s built
like a brick shit house, but not too bulky, just strong. And it makes sense a
few minutes later as I learn he works in the park too. He’s not a ranger, but
does trail maintenance. I can only imagine how strenuous that work is, but
it appears his body has reaped the benefits.
His hair is light brown and short, but somehow a little messy, too. He too
has a bit of facial hair, but it is more scruff than an actual beard. Compared
to Wilder’s groomed and styled look, Grey is a little more wild and
untamed.
Grey’s quieter, but the conversation flows between us as we talk about
Joshua Tree and what it is like to work in the park. He has a different view
of the Park than I do, so it’s fun to ask him about his experiences and pick
his brain about it. Our conversation turns to Wilder and how he runs a local
non-profit supporting Joshua Tree. From what I can tell, he is a bit of a
hardcore environmentalist and the non-profit, Preserve JT, is his life.
I haven’t seen Mae in a while, but I realize it’s not a big deal, as I’m
enjoying myself to no end. Both Grey’s and Wilder’s jobs provide them
with different perspectives of Joshua Tree than what my short time as a
ranger there has provided me with. They are interesting guys, so it’s not a
struggle to sit and talk with them, despite how I can be around new people.
“Well looky, looky. What do we have here?”
I stiffen at his voice. Why it is cemented in my brain, I do not know. I try
to keep my attention focused on Grey, but when the chair next to me
scrapes against the patio as it is pulled out, I give in and divert my gaze to
the person now occupying it.
And I fail at keeping my face neutral, instead my jaw dropping as I take
in Logan. I blink, double-checking that I haven’t conjured him up from thin
air. Nope. He’s real. As is the shit-eating grin on his face. And just as
attractive as I remember.
No longer in control of my body or limbs, I stand up. To run away? To
mount him? Who’s to say?
Thankfully, I’m spared from making this decision by Denver.
“Sawyer!” Then I am being pulled into a hug. And held there. “I didn’t
know you were going to be here.” He then stumbles backward, revealing
Logan gripping the back of his shirt as the cause of our hug being cut short.
Rubbing his palms together, Denver asks Logan, “Did we know Sawyer
was going to be here?” I have to laugh at his question and at Denver in
general. He is adorable. His hair has a similar cut to Logan’s, shorter on the
sides, but longer on the top, however that’s where the similarities end.
Where Logan’s hair is dark brown, Denver’s is a lighter brown laced with
blond highlights and even more of a curl to it. He’s a few inches shorter
than Logan, even shorter than me, and he’s like a puppy with boundless
energy - always with a shit-eating grin on his face, ready to cause chaos.
There’s no doubt I’m going to love him.
Logan shakes his head in response to Denver’s question. “Nope.” He still
hasn’t stopped smiling. Seriously, he is the most gorgeous man in the world.
I want to run my hands through the messy curls at the top of his head and
feel his scruff between...Jesus. This escalated quickly.
“Well, either way,” Denver starts as he walks over to a cooler and pulls
out a beer. “It’s nice to see you again. Logan thinks so too, even if he
doesn’t say it.”
Logan grits his teeth. “Denver is going to be in the market for a new job
soon.”
I laugh, and Logan chooses that moment to wink at me.
And. I. Am. Done.
I wrack my brain, but I can’t remember ever being on the receiving end
of a wink. If I had, it must have slipped my memory because it couldn’t
compare to this. Thankfully, the sun has set, thereby masking the blush
creeping up my body.
I panic. I don’t know what to say. It’s easy when he’s pissing me off. In
those instances, I react, saying whatever comes to mind, not overthinking it,
but now...now I don’t know what to say when the fucking hottest guy ever
winks at me. Is it pathetic that I’m twenty-five years old and don’t know
how to flirt?
Before I can spiral downward any further, the backdoor of Wilder’s
house opens and Mae, followed by another guy I don’t know, comes
walking out. Mae clasps her hands together and exclaims (yes, exclaims), “I
see everyone is here now.” Without saying another word, she approaches
Logan and me and boops us each on the nose before walking away.
We both stare at her retreating form like the crazy person she is.
Turning to Logan, I give him a wry smile. “She was your friend first.”
Logan laughs. “No one informed me you ladies would be here tonight.”
He points at himself. “I’m pretty gross.”
I roll my eyes because, despite the layer of dust covering him, he still is a
fantasy come to life. “Digging for a compliment much? We both know you
aren’t gross.” I sniff in his direction. “But, you might smell.”
He shrugs his shoulders and moves his hair out of his eyes. And yeah, I
can see how that move has always worked for him because, clearly, I
wouldn’t give a damn if he hadn’t showered in a week.
“Food’s ready,” Wilder calls out.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Logan pats his stomach and of their own
free will, my eyes travel down to his abs. His shirt is not overly tight but
clings to him in all the right places.
“You hungry?” Logan’s voice cuts my obvious perusal short.
“Uh, yeah.” He caught me. I don’t even bother trying to hide it.
“Follow me.”
Does he ever stop smiling? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s difficult to
concentrate. I follow him to the backdoor where he stops to hold the door
open for me.
“Now, before you get your panties in a twist, know I hold the door for
everyone, not only women.”
I can’t hold back my smile, because I so appreciate that the thought even
occurred to him. Even so, I can’t let him off the hook that easily. “Thank
you, and gross. I hate the word panties.” Walking through the door and into
Wilder’s house, I try not to be too obvious with my perusal, but as I
suspected, it’s beautiful and clean. So clean! Not something you see often
from a single dude.
“I thought you would enjoy me talking about your panties.” He grabs a
plate and loads it with food. “I saw you checking me out.”
My hand pauses over a dish I’m scooping onto my plate. I think about
denying it, but we would both know I’m lying, so I go for it. “Fine. I was
checking you out. I’m sure it wasn’t your first experience with it. And could
you quit it with the panties talk? Barf. Why can’t it just be underwear?”
“I acquiesce.” He gestures to the kitchen table. “But only if you sit in
here with me. I like to be close to the food so that I can get seconds and
thirds…”
I take a seat next to him. “So what words are on your no-fly list?”
Logan chuckles and thinks for a minute before replying. “I feel like this
is too obvious, but moist for sure.”
I wrinkle my nose in disgust and give a full-body shudder. “That better
be on everyone’s list.”
I wait until Logan takes a big sip of water before offering up another
word. “What about squirt?”
Water sprays out of his mouth and I’m pretty sure from his nose as well
soaking me. He’s coughing on the water and I lose it. I can’t stop laughing.
Every time I come close to composing myself, I once again imagine his
face and lose it all over again.
Logan is pounding on his chest, attempting to stop the coughing fit, but is
also laughing, so progress is slow.
Mae and the man she had been speaking to inside earlier, peek their
heads into the room. “Everything kosher here?” asks Mae.
Logan, finally getting the coughing/laughing situation under control,
answers first. “Yep, finding out that Sawyer is filthy.”
This is what I meant when I said I have no game. Instead of figuring out
how to flirt or be sexy, I instead take the conversation to a place where this
gorgeous man tells me I’m disgusting.
“We are talking about words that should be stricken from the English
language,” I supply.
“Nice,” the guy replies. Sticking out his hand, he says to me, “Didn’t get
a chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Brady.” Using his thumb to
gesture at Logan, “I’m this one’s cousin.” Ah, Brady, the cousin and coowner of Wild Times. For two people related, they don’t look much alike.
Although it is a little difficult to tell with his beard.
It’s some beard.
It’s not bad, but it’s so much that it distracts from the rest of him.
Where Logan’s hair is a little longer on top, Brady’s is longish
everywhere, brown with the most beautiful chestnut highlights. Women all
over the world pay big money to get their hair to look this good. I almost
didn’t even notice his gorgeous head of hair because of the beard.
It’s thick and full and a few inches long.
I don’t want to hate on it, but I’m not sure I’m a fan.
What I am a fan of, though?
Brady has tattoos snaking up and down his arms. His navy blue t-shirt
showcases what appears to be one full sleeve of tattoos and a sprinkling of
others on his other arm.
Tattoos interest me.
I don’t have any of my own, but I am fascinated by them and what people
choose to ink permanently on their bodies.
For the longest time when I was growing up, I was adamant that I would
never get a tattoo. It seemed like a foolish decision, and I prided myself on
being smarter than that. I was judgmental and ignorant and I have since
wised up, as I have seen more and more beautiful tattoos on people over the
years. As a sidebar, I have seen a lot of terrible ones as well. These days, I
fantasize about a full sleeve of some colorful flowers for myself, which is
ridiculous since I don’t even have one, but who knows, maybe one day I
will be brave enough to start.
I wonder what Brady’s tattoos mean. And is it possible to ask about them
without being a creep? Hmmm. Instead of risking it, I decide to go with the
safe choice. “Nice to meet you too,” I tell him while giving Mae a generous
serving of side-eye. I know her too well already. I would put money on the
fact that she made Brady stay inside earlier, so I didn’t put two and two
together. Not that she knew of my Internet stalking, but Mae and I seem to
be very simpatico and she probably guessed. She failed to mention that she
knew Logan and these guys more than just in passing. They are clearly a
tight-knit group of friends.
Mae and Brady each take a seat at the table. “So, what word put you two
over the edge?” Mae asks.
Mine and Logan’s eyes meet before each of us busts out laughing again
while simultaneously gagging. He gets control first. “Squirt.”
Both Mae and Brady make horrified faces. “Is that better or worse than
squirts?” Mae asks. We all lose it this time. A combination of laughing until
we are crying mixed in with a side of dry heaving.
Oh, for the love. I may be disgusting, but she is just as bad. It’s a weird
time to get that feeling again - of being home - but it’s there. I wipe at the
tears streaming down my face - not from my sentimental thoughts but
because I have been laughing so hard.
Brady takes a bite of food, chews for a moment, and then asks, “How
about secrete?”
After we stop trying to one-up each other with our sheer filth, we finish
the delicious dinner. I lose count of how many times Logan heads back to
refill his plate. He wasn’t exaggerating earlier. He can put away food.
Once we have all had our fill, Mae, Brady, Logan, and I head back
outside to join the others by the fire. The sun has set, and the temperature is
dropping rapidly. Even though I have been sweating for most of the day,
that is forgotten, and now I can’t wait to huddle close to the fire for
warmth.
Taking one of the open chairs around the fire pit, I scoot close to the fire
and try not to shiver. I have a warmer coat in my car but am feeling too lazy
and comfortable to get it yet.
“If you are cold, you can sit on my lap. I’ll keep you warm.” Logan is
sitting next to me, but he says it loud enough for everyone to hear.
I seriously can’t tell with him. I have caught him checking me out and it
seems like he flirts with me, but I think that’s how he is with everyone.
Before I can answer, a blanket drops into my lap. Glancing up, I see
Wilder standing next to me. “Just in case you don’t want to take him up on
that generous offer.”
“Thanks, Wilder. What would a helpless woman such as myself do
without such a generous offer from a big, strong man? I might freeze.”
Wilder snickers and before I know it, I have a big, strong man in my lap.
Logan has taken a seat on me, sideways. Both of his legs are on one side of
me and his arm draped over my shoulders.
We are close. Very close.
My breathing hitches.
My entire body tenses up.
Not just from his nearness. And he is near. Our bodies are touching.
Everywhere. Well, almost everywhere. But, it’s the feel of his weight on
me. It is an easy jump to imagine what his weight would feel like on top of
me if we were both laying down. And instead of his arm around my
shoulder, what if it were running down the side of my body? I clench my
thighs together and squirm, trying to relieve the ache between my legs. Not
a simple task with him sitting on me.
Our faces are inches from each other.
He leans in and whispers in my ear. “I’m a believer in equal opportunity.
Maybe I need a big, strong woman to keep me warm.”
Someone might as well have dumped a bucket of water on me for how
quickly the heat between us is gone.
I look right at him. I have little choice, seeing as how he is still sitting on
me and using the arm around my neck to force me to meet his eyes. Before
I can object, I can see it in his expression. He didn’t mean it like that. I
know he didn’t. But I still don’t want to be here a second longer.
“Sawyer -”
“I need to get more water.” I give him a little shove. Not enough to hurt
or to send him flying, but enough to send an obvious message for him to
move. As he scrambles to his feet, I stand, side-step him, and head for the
backdoor. I don’t need to turn around to check, but I can feel him following
me.
Inside the house, Grey is in the kitchen. “Bathroom?” I ask. I take off
down the hallway in the direction he indicates.
Safely inside the bathroom, I close and lock the door.
“What did you do?” I hear Grey ask. Not waiting to hear Logan’s answer,
I flick on the switch for the fan, effectively drowning out their voices.
What did he do? Rationally, I know it was a joke and he didn’t mean it to
be disparaging. Rationally, I also know I’m not a big girl. I’m a tall girl.
Even if I was heavier, there would be nothing wrong with me. But no girl,
no woman, wants to hear herself described as a big girl. Especially not by a
guy like Logan. I think it wouldn’t bother me as much except I’ve never
been the attractive girl, the pretty one. I’m always the friend. The
combination of Logan saying I was disgusting - although I know he was
saying I have a filthy mind - and calling me a big girl was too much for me
and my crush on him.
There is this beautiful man in front of me, who, from what I can tell, flirts
with everyone, and the best I get is “big girl” and “disgusting mind.”
Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered me so much if, since the moment I had
my growth spurt as a pre-teen, I hadn’t had people, usually men, feel the
need to comment on my height. Like they had never seen a tall woman
before and didn’t know how to react. And the craziest part of it all is
everyone just accepts it, like it’s perfectly okay for people to comment on
my body. Or any woman’s body. It’s not Logan’s fault that I have been
described as a big girl way too many times. It’s how people view me, but I
wish it hadn’t been all he had seen when he looked at me.
I stare into the mirror. “Get it together,” I whisper. While this is a shitty
feeling, I hate dramatics. So, I need to go back out there and have a good
rest of the night. I can let myself feel this more later tonight when I’m back
at my townhouse.
I quickly use the bathroom, wash my hands, and head back down the hall
towards the kitchen.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Ten
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
SHIT. FUCK. SHIT. FUCK. Fuck.
What the hell is wrong with me around this girl? Any other chick and I
would have long since closed the deal. With Sawyer, not only do I
continually make an ass of myself, now I’m being a dick to her as well.
She tried to hide it, but I could see the hurt on her face as soon as I said
big, strong woman.
Technically, she is big - as in tall. And she’s strong. And she’s a woman.
So nothing I said was false. But I fucking know better. Any idiot knows
better. I lose my mind around her and can’t seem to ever find the right
words.
“Sawyer -” I start.
She cuts me off. “I need water.” She gives me a little shove and I
scramble to my feet. I reach for her hand, but already on her feet, she sidesteps me and starts heading for the house. I follow her in and Grey’s in the
kitchen, already staring me down. She escapes down the hallway to the
bathroom.
Grey turns on me and asks, “What did you do?”
Grey is a good buddy and tends to be the quiet one, except for when we
need to be called out on our shit. Then, he’s always happy to volunteer.
“What did you do?” he repeats.
I lean down on the kitchen counter, resting on my elbows and covering
my face with my hands. What did I do? Good question.
Standing up, I run my hands through my hair. “Fucked up.”
He nods. “Make it right.” Not a question. A command.
I nod. Slapping my back, a little harder than necessary, he heads outside.
What do I do now? How do I explain? Better yet, how do I explain
without digging myself a bigger hole?
I’m never a dick to women. I love them. I respect them. I enjoy hanging
out with them. But there’s something about Sawyer that throws everything
out of whack for me. As a result, I do something dick-ish.
“Hey.”
I hadn’t heard her come out of the bathroom. Pushing off from where I
had been leaning against the counter, I head towards Sawyer.
“Hey.” I stop a few feet away from her because I feel like she wants me
to keep my distance. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m always apologizing to you.”
I give her a tentative smile. I wasn’t sure if she was going to bite my head
off or not. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was a joke. A shitty attempt at
flirting. I get a little tongue-tied around you. You’re gorgeous. You’re
not...not that you wouldn’t be gorgeous if…” Shit. What did I tell myself
about digging a hole further?”
Sawyer drops her head and blushes and hell, she’s fucking beautiful. “No
need to apologize. Sorry, if I was being dramatic, I wasn’t expecting that to
come out of your mouth and it made me think of old shit…” She trails off,
eyes widening as if realizing she did not mean to say that out loud.
Someone had been a dick to her, and I had brought those memories up. I
want to hurt whoever had done that to her, but sensing she doesn’t want to
talk about it further, I give her an out. “Can we start over, please? Maybe go
sit by the fire and talk?” She hesitates for a second, so I sweeten the deal. “I
promise not to sit on your lap.”
She nods. “Yes, please.”
We head outside and thankfully, there are two open seats next to each
other by the fire. I pluck an extra blanket from where Wilder has placed a
stack of them. Taking our seats, I hold one out to her.
“Thanks,” she whispers. I’m not sure why she said it so quietly. Maybe
because Brady and Wilder have pulled out guitars and are strumming them?
Maybe she is nervous? Maybe because Denver and Mae are in the middle
of a heated debate? Deciding I am better off not overthinking it, I get
comfortable in my chair and try to relax.
It’s a beautiful night. I’m surrounded by friends who have become as
close as family over the past four years, and a woman next to me I can’t
stop thinking about.
But she isn’t my woman, and she can’t be. Relationships and I don’t go
hand in hand. Not anymore. Easier to keep things fun. No attachments.
Despite all these rules I have put in place for myself over the years, none of
them stops me from wanting her.
I am pulled from my thoughts by a loud snort from next to me.
By the time I turn in my seat, her hands are covering her nose and mouth.
I can’t help it. I giggle. GIGGLE. What the hell is happening to me?
I can’t stop laughing at her, because, despite the pig-like snort that just
came out of her mouth, I find her adorable. And hot. And I can’t stop
imagining what other noises I can elicit from her if given the opportunity.
The harder I laugh, the further she sinks down in her chair. When I
finally stop laughing to catch my breath, she sits up, uncovers her face, and
sneaks a peek at me. I’m staring right at her. She starts to cover her face
again, but I hold her hands in place and in my most serious voice whisper,
“Would it make it better if I farted?”
She chuckles and wrenches her hands back from me. “So not the same
thing.”
“Oh, but they are. Whatever that noise is that came from your body is
right on par with one of my farts.” What the fuck am I even saying? I have
no idea. But, it seems to work because Sawyer no longer seems
embarrassed. I’m realizing she responds to me more when I back off of
flirting and instead make an ass of myself. Good thing I have plenty of
practice with that.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she says.
“I have a few ideas.” Again, I wink at her. And even though it is pitch
black, with the glow from the fire, I can see her blushing. “What made you
snort in the first place?”
She gestures over to where Mae and Denver are sitting on the other side
of the fire pit. “Have you not been listening to those two go at it? They have
been arguing forever about whether it is ‘flipping someone off’ or ‘flicking
someone off.’”
I let out a chuckle. Those two bicker constantly because they are so
similar. At times, I think they should hook up and they would live happily
ever after. Other times, I think if they hook up, it would lead to destruction
previously unmatched. It could go either way. I have been so lost in
thoughts of Sawyer that I hadn’t noticed them going at it. Also, Mae and
Denver’s arguments are so commonplace these days that I block them out.
“Who’s winning?”
Sawyer gives me some side-eye that at this point I just find adorable and
drops her voice. “I will never admit it out loud and if you tell anyone I did, I
will hunt you down and torture you, but...I have to side with Denver on this
one.”
I try not to let my mind think about what Sawyer torturing me would be
like. The super-fucked up side of me forces me to adjust myself so I don’t
tent my pants any further. Good thing for the darkness.
“My lips are sealed.” Deciding this is my best chance to get to know her
further, I dare ask. “So tell me about you. Where are you from?”
She stares into the fire. “Where aren’t I from?” She pauses for a moment.
“I grew up in New York City.”
“City girl?” Would not have been my first guess.
She laughs, “I know, right? To say I didn’t fit in is an understatement.”
She pauses again. “I never hated it when I was younger. It was all I knew.
But, when I was nine, I spent the summer with my grandparents in the
mountains of North Carolina, and from that moment forward, I despised
every minute I had to spend in the city. Which isn’t fair, because there are
so many great things about cities, especially New York. It just wasn’t, isn’t,
right for me.”
“You are a long way from New York now. How did you get here?”
Sawyer settles back into her chair and launches into her story. She’s only
a year younger than me, but she has lived or spent time in so many parts of
the country. I can’t help but be a little jealous.
I was privileged enough growing up to vacation in many places, but I
haven’t ever spent a lot of time somewhere other than San Diego, where I
grew up, and here. Most of that was my choice. I stuck close to home for
college, choosing a university in San Diego, and then the plan was always
to move out here. The desert has always been my favorite, specifically the
unique landscape of Joshua Tree.
I don’t regret any of those choices, but hearing her adventures in a variety
of places gives me a little thirst for wanderlust as well.
Sawyer then asks about me and my family. I launch into ridiculous
stories from growing up in a big family - I have four siblings, plus Brady is
basically a brother. I turn on the charm. Storytelling is my secret weapon. I
don’t claim to be good at many things in life, but I know I can tell a story
and keep my audience captivated. It’s why starting Wild Times was always
my dream. It combines my love of the outdoors and adventure with
storytelling. Anyone can take another person out on an adventure, but to
make it an experience they never forget? You have to be a people person
and a storyteller.
The night continues on with Sawyer and I talking non-stop for a bit,
followed by periods of silence as we cozy up to the crackling fire, listening
to the conversations going on around us.
“Let’s play a game,” Mae suggests.
“Or we could talk about what happened earlier today.” Denver’s voice is
filled with laughter.
“Denver,” Wilder practically growls.
Denver shrugs. “What?”
“New topic.”
Denver laughs. “Fine.”
The rest of us stare at the two of them until it appears the story is not
going anywhere else, then we all go back to our respective conversations.
A few minutes pass.
“Hey, Denver.” Grey says.
“What’s up?”
“Want to know something awkward?” Grey’s face is devoid of emotion. I
can’t tell where this is going, but I’m excited.
“Of course.” Denver doesn’t hold back his smile.
“Sitting out back here by yourself and then having a strange woman walk
out of Wilder’s house. Then, having a moment of panic because you don’t
know if she is robbing him or was here for a bit of afternoon delight. That’s
awkward. Or, maybe uncomfortable is a better word. I dunno, but whatever
it is, it happened. Today.”
And then they both burst out laughing.
Wilder sits there, not looking as amused as everyone else.
“So which was it?” Mae asks.
“Thank you for asking Mae, but unfortunately, I can’t be the one to
answer this. Let’s throw it over to Wild Man to make sure we get this
right.” Grey is way too proud of himself. For someone who most often
chooses not to talk, he certainly makes it worth it when he does.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But it seems fitting, especially after today.”
“Enough buildup. Just finish the story.” I’m both intrigued and annoyed
at the same time.
“I would have expected this from Denver, but you should know better.”
Wilder frowns at Grey.
“What? We were sitting in your backyard, eating lunch and chatting away
when a woman - a very pretty one, might I add - walks out your backdoor.
And no, that’s not a euphemism.”
Everyone laughs exactly as he hoped they would.
Denver, unable to contain himself, cuts in, “I’m a nice guy, so I greet her
and when she sits down next to me. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll tell you what you should not have done. You shouldn’t have asked
her all about herself and learned her life story. That’s what you should not
have done.”
“Fair. But I won’t apologize for who I am.”
This statement earns an eye roll from Wilder and groans from the rest of
the group, even Grey.
“Okay, then, how about this?” Wilder addresses the entire group. “In the
future, don’t engage with any of the women I hook up with. It gives them
the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea? And what idea might that be? That you have a heart?”
Denver asks.
Everyone laughs except Wilder.
“Okay, but what if we think they might be robbing you?”
Wilder might just throttle him at this point.
“I mean seriously, who gets random ass in the middle of a weekday
afternoon?”
Now, it is Wilder’s turn to look proud of himself.
BEFORE I KNOW IT, it’s pushing midnight. Over the past few hours, I
have had a chance to get to know the real Sawyer - not just the woman I
fantasize about. Sitting around the fire, getting to know her was great - it
was less flirtatious and more genuine interest. I think on her end as well. At
times, only she and I talked. Other times, the entire group joined in. I
marvel at how easily she fits. She is curious and a good listener. She is also
quick and not afraid to give anyone shit. I learn she and Mae have only
known each other since the start of this week and can’t believe it. They act
like two people who had been best friends since childhood. She fits.
Perfectly.
I try to ignore it.
Despite my best efforts, I can’t completely ignore it - this pull between
us. Because as innocent and friendly as a lot of our conversation has been
since taking a seat by the fire, there has also been constant sexual tension.
Like the time I shifted in my seat and my leg ended up against her leg for
twenty minutes and I couldn’t think of anything else. Or when she had
gotten up to go fill her water and filled mine too. Taking my water bottle
back from her and our hands grazing - GRAZING - about did me in. I
might be losing it.
Denver and Grey have already taken off, as both of them have to work in
the morning. I have a busy day too, but smartly, I pawned off our earliest
tour on Denver. I can at least get up after sunrise tomorrow before putting in
an action-packed day.
Sawyer and Mae decide to call it a night. I don’t want this night to end,
but it appears I don’t have a choice, so I decide it’s imperative to walk them
out front to Sawyer’s car (even though I would never admit it because they
are too strong women who don’t need me to escort them two hundred feet
to their car). Brady sticks around to jam on the guitar a little longer with
Wilder.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eleven
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
WE SAY OUR GOODBYES to Brady and Wilder. It’s awkward for about
two seconds because all of them are hugging each other and I’m not on the
same level of friendship as all of them. I am debating how to say bye when
Wilder pulls me into a hug, followed immediately by Brady.
This might not be a big deal to other people, but as someone who has
spent most of my life feeling like an outsider, it is huge. Even more, it feels
right.
It’s been an almost perfect night. A truly perfect night would end with
Logan asking me out, but beggars can’t be choosers. I know I will be
playing our conversation on repeat for the next week. I wouldn’t have
thought it was possible to find him more charming and more attractive, but
newsflash - I do! Hearing his stories about growing up made me jealous of
his big family and the love he clearly has for them. When he spoke about
starting Wild Times and what he and Brady have turned it into, it was sexy.
He’s a smart guy who is passionate about what he does. It’s an incredibly
attractive quality.
I try to ignore the thought reminding me I can ask him out. Because I
can. I don’t need to wait around for a guy to ask me out. I can take control
and ask him. Except, I’m a huge baby and scared of rejection. This is
another part of my personality that sometimes makes me a shitty feminist.
But, I swear I’m trying to work on it.
When we get out front to my car, Mae climbs right in and slumps against
the door. I think she’s more tired than drunk, because I noticed her dozing
off by the fire. I’ll admit I’m a terrible friend because I pretended not to see
it as I wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. I’ll make it up to her
somehow.
After making sure Mae is good in the car, I pop the trunk so I can put the
now empty containers of food I brought back there. Logan hands me the
ones he carried for me.
“This feels familiar.”
I shoot him a confused expression, unsure of what he means. He gestures
with his head towards the back of my car. “When we first met...hanging out
by the trunk of your car.”
I smile at him as I close the door to the trunk. I have nothing witty to say,
but I enjoy looking at him. Being with him. I like this closeness. Life is
weird. I would not have guessed I would spend a night talking to the sexy
as fuck guy from the grocery store parking lot.
“Go home with me.”
I think my heart stops. Did I hear him right? Is this a joke? “Is this a joke
again?” Nothing about his expression or the way his voice dropped, all
husky, makes me think this is a joke, but, then again, I didn’t realize he was
joking last time either.
Logan shakes his head no and takes a step closer to me. He’s only a little
taller than me and I like that I can stare almost directly into his eyes. And
from the heated way he is gazing back at me, it’s clear he is not joking.
I give myself a moment to imagine saying yes. The feel of his hands on
me. The feel of his body pressed against mine. Is it possible to orgasm from
a conversation? If so, I might be close.
Then, I come back to reality. Glancing into the car, I see Mae. “I have to
take her home.”
“Come over after that. Or I can come to you if you want?”
Do I want to? Yes, I do want to. Very much so. But, I also know myself. I
will want more. One night with Logan won’t be enough. I’m not a hook-up
kind of girl. I’m a relationship kind of girl. As amazing as a night with
Logan would be, I don’t want to set myself up to be hurt. Especially
because I’m going to see him at work sometimes. And I’m already in love
with his group of friends. I want them to be my friends too. And as great as
I assume one night with him would be, I don’t think it would be worth
risking all of that.
“Soooo...would this just be a one-time thing?” It’s awkward, but I have to
ask. I have to make sure. I’ll be pissed at myself if I don’t.
“That’s the only kind I do.”
Fuck. Shit. Damnit. For a minute, I allow myself to think about what it
would mean to say yes. To go home with him. To strip naked in front of him
and to watch him get naked. To feel his scruff between my legs. To feel him
inside of me. Then to go home and never be with him again.
I try to keep the hurt off my face. I want more. “One-night stands aren’t
my thing, so I’m going to have to pass. ’Night.” I don’t give him a chance
to say another word because I’m afraid I’ll change my mind. I open the
driver’s side door, hop in, and drive away. I watch him grow smaller and
smaller in my rearview mirror, not at all sure I made the right decision.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twelve
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
AFTER SAWYER DRIVES AWAY post-rejection, I stand there for a
minute.
It’s not only that I rarely get turned down (even though I don’t), there is
something different about Sawyer’s rejection. When a woman has shot me
down in the past, I move on to the next one. There’s always more fish in the
sea. But calling another woman to hook up tonight or anytime soon doesn’t
feel right.
I need to get my head on straight. This one girl is threatening to destroy
everything I have spent the past four years avoiding - relationships. I don’t
care how beautiful or funny or interesting or smart she is, she’s not worth
it.
Or is she?
Fuuuck.
I don’t feel like going home and being by myself, so I head back to
Wilder’s backyard. I find him and Brady still sitting around the fire,
strumming their guitars.
“Thought you left.” Brady doesn’t even look up.
“Changed my mind.”
“Got shot down, huh?” They both start laughing at Wilder’s comment.
Bastards.
When they have had their fill of laughing at me, Brady stops playing.
“Don’t fuck with her. She’s clearly not a one-and-done kind of girl.”
“Well I don’t do anything other than one and done, so I guess it’s not
happening then.”
“Good,” Wilder said. “Since you two fuckers like to remind me how
much older I am than you, I think it’s about time I settle down. You don’t
mind if I ask her out then?”
I am twenty-six years old and have always been a laid-back guy. I am the
epitome of Southern California laid-back surfer dude type, except for the
part where I don’t surf. Most things roll right off of me. I’m almost
unfamiliar with anger. Sure I get pissed off or annoyed as much as the next
person, but anger? It’s not worth my time. Right now though. Right now, I
want to tackle Wilder to the ground and beat the shit out of him. I don’t care
that I have never thrown a punch, or that it’s Wilder, the biggest pacifist I
know. I’ll fucking rip him to shreds.
I’m so lost in my hulking out moment that I don’t realize these two
dickheads are laughing and laughing.
While they calm themselves down, I stay quiet.
“So you don’t want her, but no one else can have her?” asks Brady.
I say nothing, refusing to take the bait this time.
“I wonder what Sawyer would think of this. She has made it clear she
wouldn’t love us sitting around, assuming we know what is best for her,”
Wilder supplies.
“You just met her tonight. Stop talking like you know her,” I reply.
Wilder ignores me. “Why is it you can’t date her?”
I can’t tell if he is baiting me again or doesn’t know. We are close, but my
love life doesn’t come up as a topic of conversation too often, if ever. We all
take note if someone is dating someone new or Houdini’s from a gettogether for a hookup, but we don’t sit around and talk about our feelings.
It’s not some toxic masculinity bullshit either, because we do talk about the
important stuff - our families, our dreams, how much we love each other.
We don’t talk to each other about relationships, though. Maybe because no
one in our group has been in one for a long time. Except for Mae. And he
was the worst, so if that could not be repeated anytime soon, it would be for
the best.
Why can’t I date her?
“I just can’t.”
Wilder thinks about this for a moment before responding. “Your loss.”
Yep. He’s right.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirteen
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
I LOVE MY JOB.
I love my job so much that sometimes I set my alarm early so I can get to
Joshua Tree before it gets too busy and be alone at my favorite places in the
Park.
Right now, I’m standing in one of them: Cholla Cactus Garden.
It’s a super touristy spot, not only because it’s gorgeous, but you can
drive right up to it. As a result, I often avoid it. I like tourists just fine, but
when I’m not working, I don’t want to be around them. I help people all day
long. I don’t want to help them in my free time as well. I realize how that
sounds, but it’s the truth.
But this place...this place is worth it. I arrive right after sunup so I can be
alone, and it’s worth every minute of lost sleep to be here by myself. If
there are other people here, they are quiet and respectful too. Like being in
a house of worship.
That’s how I feel about the beauty of nature - it’s a religious experience.
Or, more accurately, a spiritual experience.
Right now, I’m roaming along the plank path through the teddy bear
cholla as the sun climbs higher and higher in the sky. Teddy bear cholla
cacti are a work of art. From afar, they appear soft and fuzzy, but in reality,
are covered in spiky spines. In the short time I have been employed as a
ranger here, I have pulled countless spines out of people’s arms, legs, faces
- you name it. I don’t go anywhere without my tweezers.
As the teddy bear cholla age (and grow taller) the trunks darken, creating
a beautiful canvas from the variety of shades of green and brown across the
acres and acres of cacti.
They are just one example of the beauty that I had no idea I was missing
in the past, but now I can’t imagine never having witnessed.
There is so much of Joshua Tree I haven’t yet experienced.
As soon as I found out I got the job, I hit the books (or websites) hard. I
now know so much of the history of this national park and the names of
popular (and not so popular) trails, animals found within the confines of the
park, and a variety of flora and fauna. But, I haven’t had the chance to
experience much of it yet beyond the most touristy trails and hikes. Those
places are where the people are, and that is where I am needed.
It’s still great, but I can’t wait to experience more of it. Especially the
parts most people don’t experience because they come in the middle of a
twelve-mile hike or something else equally challenging.
Taking one more moment to commit it all to memory, I head back
towards my car. I haven’t had my fill of beauty - I don’t think I ever will but I have to get to the Visitor’s Center where I am stationed today.
So yeah, I love my job. And I can’t wait to experience it more.
I FUCKING HATE MY job right now.
I try to channel the positive energy that was flowing out of every orifice
this morning, but I can’t quite grasp it.
I like people. I swear I like people. Normally, I like people. But, right
now, I do not like people. Or, I just don’t like this woman. To be fair, she
isn’t any worse than any of the other shitheads I have dealt with today, but
she is the one who is going to put me over the edge.
As an interpretive park ranger, no two days are the same and I love it. As
a part of the park staff, I help provide a variety of services. My favorites are
guiding hikes and tours, creating educational programs, and giving
orientation talks to new visitors. If I am not doing those, then I am stationed
at one of the visitor centers. There, I help visitors to the park plan trips and
provide information on the natural resources of the park. This also means I
field complaints from time to time.
It’s my least favorite part of the job.
The shit flowing out of people’s mouths is unbelievable. Sometimes I’m
forced to wonder if they have ever been outside before. And this is not
unique to Joshua Tree but has been true of everywhere I have worked in a
ranger capacity.
I have learned how to not react to even the most asinine complaints. To
not go crazy, I often think about what I would love to say back to these ass
clowns if given the opportunity.
“Aren’t there more attractions?” Open your eyes, asshole.
“Where in the park gets the best cell phone reception?” Bend over, I’ll
show you.
“So we just look at some cactus?” It’s cacti, dick.
“How far am I supposed to walk?” Let me guess, missionary is your
favorite position.
“How come no one told us it was going to be THIS hot here?” Do you
need someone to wipe your ass too?
But, since most days, most of the time, I love my job and don’t want to
be fired, none of those comebacks will ever pass through my lips.
I remind myself that wonderful, respectful, and kind people come
through here every day. There are a lot more people than just the assholes
who stop to complain - like this lady.
“So, what is there to do here?”
How do people show up somewhere without a clue about where they are
going? I’m going to assume she isn’t prepared for any real adventure, so I
guide her over to a map on the wall and provide three easy options.
After answering more of her ignorant questions, she turns to leave
(without thanking me), but then turns back to me. “Is there a park ranger I
can speak to?”
I paste on a fake smile. “I’m a park ranger. Is there anything I can help
you with?”
“You’re a ranger?” It’s clear she doesn’t believe me.
“Yes.” Fake smile again.
“They let women do this now?”
My face involuntarily twitches. “Only for the last one hundred years or
so.” I could have been nicer and explained that while women have been
park rangers for the National Parks Service for almost the last one hundred
years, they have only become commonplace in the recent past - and a
majority are still men. But, I’m not feeling generous at the moment.
“How lovely. It must be nice to be around so many men. Maybe you
could wear a little makeup, do something with your hair - you know, be a
little more feminine. How else will you get a man? Not by dressing like
them.”
She assesses me and my government-issued uniform with distaste.
I’m seething. So many things are wrong with the words coming out of
her mouth. I take a moment to gather my thoughts before laying into this
asshole. Before I can say anything though, I stop and remember that no
matter how good unloading on this woman would feel; it isn’t in my best
interest. So instead of telling her to sit on it and spin, I merely smile one
more time. “Have a great day.”
Then, I move on to helping the next person.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Fourteen
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS since Sawyer rejected my offer. Rejected me. If
I choose to be a rational, logical human being, I could point out that she
seemed interested in me until I told her it would be a one-time thing.
Therefore, she wasn’t rejecting me personally; she was rejecting the
situation. But I never claimed to be rational or logical.
A hundred different ideas come to mind that I could say to her to change
the outcome of the situation. I dream up countless scenarios about how
things could play out in my favor. I look for her every time I head to the
park, even catching a glimpse of her from afar several times. But, I stay
away.
I made my intentions obvious. She made herself clear. We didn’t line up,
so anything I do to change her mind would be disingenuous and not cool.
So I stay away. I don’t pursue her.
There is the minor problem of her being good friends with Mae. Since
Mae is my friend too, we are going to see each other. Not to mention the
rest of the guys think she’s awesome, rightfully so. There is only one thing
left to do: I have to be friends with Sawyer.
I do not want to be friends with Sawyer. I want to take her home, get
naked with her, and make her come over and over again. But, sure, friends
sounds good too.
Since I am determined to give this friend thing a try, I invite her, along
with my other friends, on an all-day hike.
Lately, I have been a little bored with some of the guided tours Wild
Times provides. If it were up to me, I would stop offering them and design
new ones. But, it’s not up to me as these decisions lie in Brady’s realm of
the business. Also, to stop offering these tours would be a dumb business
decision, as they almost always sell out and bring in a constant stream of
revenue.
Nonetheless, I’m feeling uninspired.
My one saving grace is Wild Times has grown enough that we have two
employees, Denver and Aditi. They are both fantastic guides with way too
much personality, which can be over the top in normal life, but as a guide,
people eat up. Denver is a ridiculous flirt that has a knack for making
everyone laugh and feel included. Aditi treats every tour like she is strutting
across the stage of a Broadway musical. She breaks out into song constantly
and people can’t get enough.
I was lucky to find them both. I have never lacked confidence in my job I know I’m good at it. But, being around those two keeps me on my toes
and pushes me to up my game.
But, the best part about hiring them is since they work for me, I can make
them do the tours I’m sick of and save the more adventurous, less
monotonous ones for myself. I’m not a total asshole. I give them some of
the good ones too. I just keep more for myself. Plus, Aditi has only been
with us for about six months and Denver a little less than a year. They aren’t
burned out yet. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I recently convinced Brady that we needed a new offering - something to
attract a more adventurous crowd. I’m proud of the tours we currently offer,
but I want to spice it up. He told me to go for it.
I used a couple of my off days over the past month, trying to decide
which trails to use for my new guided tour. It has to be something a little
more difficult than an everyday visitor to the park would be interested in,
but can’t be too tough. The people who are hiking the toughest trails are not
taking guided tours, so I have to find a happy medium.
I enjoy the time out on the trails on my own. So much of what I
experience at Joshua Tree is with other people and instead of taking it all in,
I’m making sure everyone is enjoying themselves and I get in the habit of
going through the motions without taking a moment to be grateful that this
is where I live and work. As a result, time out on the trails by myself is
something I cherish.
Joshua Tree has always been my North Star. My family took our first trip
here when I was ten and after that, I was done. I always wanted to come
back here. Growing up only two and half hours away in San Diego, the
minute I could drive, I tried talking my parents into letting me come here
alone on the weekends. They didn’t go for that, but by the time I was in
college and they no longer knew where I was at all hours of the day, I came
up as often as I could.
Brady and I went to the same college and were roommates for all four
years. We have been planning Wild Times together since we were nineteen
years old. Although, I have been planning even longer. Then, when I started
dating Kirsty at the end of my sophomore year, we brought her in on our
plans as well.
Brady and I each had some money given to us by our grandparents that
we saved up and planned to use to start Wild Times. Kirsty was going to
move out here with us. I was planning on proposing to her as soon as Wild
Times got settled. A week before graduation, she broke up with me.
It was like being kicked in the balls repeatedly, and I did not see it
coming. In hindsight, there were all kinds of signs, but I was too young,
dumb, and self-involved to see any of them. At one point, Brady even tried
to talk to me about Kirsty - about whether or not she wanted to move to the
desert. I wouldn’t hear it and shut that conversation down.
While I was at fault for steamrolling ahead with my plan and my dreams,
she was also kind of shitty about it. We were together over two years and
when she ended things, she said something to the effect of, “You didn’t
actually think I was going to move to the middle of nowhere, did you? I
assumed you would give up on this childish dream of playing in the desert
with your cousin and start being an adult.”
I can be a bit much, but I’m not an asshole and she never once brought up
any concern to me.
I had our entire future planned: moving in together, starting Wild Times,
working together, going on adventures, getting married, having kids - I had
it all planned. That was the problem. I had it all planned, not we.
Nevertheless, it took me a long time to get over her and I’m not going
through that again. I have a thriving business, kick-ass friends, and when
the mood strikes, I find a woman to sleep with. It’s been that way for four
years now and I’m content.
As cool as Sawyer is, and as much as we connect, no woman is worth
going through the wringer like that again. Friends, it is then. Maybe she will
date someone else and then it won’t be a concern.
I make a face.
After all that shit went down with Kirsty, I realized I had been lying to
myself for a long time. I lied to myself that she was happy. I lied to myself
that everything was good between us. After we broke up and I took a hard
look at the years we were together, I realized I had ignored the signs for too
long. I promised myself that going forward, I would not lie to myself.
Sawyer has gotten under my skin. I want her, but I like her too. I would
not be okay seeing her with another dude, but if I don’t want to date her, I
can’t stop anyone else from dating her. So, I’ll have to be okay with it.
Contemplating all of this shit makes me tense up. As I finish the last half
of a mile of this hike, I try to relax my shoulders. I stop for a minute to
make a note on my phone of something to include in the tour.
September has turned into October and the temperatures have dropped
enough to make this a good time to go on a longer, more strenuous hike.
Before Brady adds this new guided tour offering on our website, I need to
try it out. My friends are always happy to be guinea pigs in these types of
situations, so I pick a weekday coming up and shoot off a group text
inviting them to come along, to try out the hike and give me feedback. I
promise food and beers at the end.
I follow up my group text with one to only Sawyer.
Logan: Hey, it’s Logan. I included you in a group text, but then
remembered you might not know who it was from. Just wanted to follow up
to be sure. Mae gave me your number. Hope you can join us. Have a great
day.
I hit send and take a breath.
I put my phone away, take a seat on a rock, and try to just be for a bit.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Fifteen
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
I REREAD HIS TEXT nothing short of thirty times - the one he sent to
only me, not the group text. That’s not to discount the group text because
being included with this group of people makes me feel all warm and
fuzzy.
Logan’s text to just me made me feel a whole set of other feels.
Logan: Hey, it’s Logan. I included you in a group text, but then
remembered you might not know who the text was from. Just wanted to
follow up to be sure. Mae gave me your number. Hope you can join us.
Have a great day.
Not sexy, flirtatious, or filled with innuendo in the slightest. But I keep
rereading it, searching for hidden meanings. I’m not sure what I am hoping
to find. If he is hitting on me after I make it clear I’m not interested in just a
hook-up, then he’s an asshole who disregards my feelings. But, I am still
disappointed. That is unfair to Logan and I acknowledge it, but it doesn’t
stop me from re-reading his text.
It’s been two weeks since I turned down his offer off a hook-up. Two
weeks of radio silence. After running into him three times in a matter of a
week, I assumed I would still see him often. Every time I see one of the
Wild Times vehicles, I have to remind myself to not be so obvious in trying
to figure out if he is in them. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t been.
I check my schedule and I might do a slight shoulder shimmy when I find
I’m free to join Logan and whoever else on the hike later this week. A part
of me wonders why I am doing this to myself. He made his feelings clear.
Another part of me tells the first part to shut up and go on the hike because I
have been wanting to explore Joshua Tree more.
So, I will go. But, not wanting to appear too eager, I wait to text back.
Mae’s number and Logan’s number are the only ones I know in the group
text.
In no time, my phone blows up with texts. Someone is in. Mae is out.
Someone else is in. Someone else is complaining about being on the group
text, but not being allowed to go. It’s clearly Denver. He’s the only person I
have ever met that can whine over text messages.
Sawyer: I’m in. Thanks for the invite. Also, this is Sawyer for those of
you who don’t have my number.
Unknown Number: Sawyer, babe. Denver here. Make sure you save my
number in case you ever need anything.
Unknown Number: Hey Sawyer - it’s Wilder. Glad you can make the
hike.
Unknown Number: It’s Grey. See you next week.
Mae: Work has been crazy. I miss your faces. Do you all want to hang
when you guys get back from the hike?
Unknown number added.
Denver: Yes. And I added Brady. He would want to be in on the fun.
Unknown number: Hey party people. What am I missing?
Logan: I didn’t include you in the text because it’s for the hike, which
you aren’t going on.
Denver: Yes, but then we were all saving Sawyer’s number and moving
on to making plans for a post-hike get-together, so I thought Brady should
be here.
Unknown number: got it. Sawyer - this is Brady. I’m in for a post-hike
hang.
Sawyer: I saved all of your numbers. Thanks for including me - can’t
wait to see you all.
Logan: Great. Now that we took care of that, will you assholes stop
texting so I can get back to work?
Denver: Did you call Sawyer an asshole?
Logan: No.
Logan: I was calling the rest of you assholes.
Denver: Me? *Clutches pearls*
Brady: You are watching YouTube videos.
Logan: About work stuff.
Logan: I’m regretting being friends with all of you.
Grey: Are you idiots done? I’m heading out and ignoring the rest of your
messages.
Setting my phone down, I can’t help the cheesy smile on my face. I know
I have been a teensy bit obsessed with Logan, but I would be a liar if I
didn’t admit to being a little obsessed with this whole friend group. Each of
them is a great person in their own right and as someone who has not felt
included many times in my life, it is everything.
THE NEXT FEW DAYS pass in a blur of work, hanging out with Mae and
redecorating my apartment. Before I know it, it is the morning of the hike. I
wake up early and do a quick workout before eating breakfast and getting
ready to go.
I realize it might be unnecessary to work out before going on a
challenging hike, however; I like routine. I’m without a doubt someone who
is the best version of myself when I stick to my routine, especially with
working out and eating healthy.
Once I’m ready, I double-check that I have enough water, food,
sunscreen, extra clothes, a first aid kit, etc. My park rangerness is showing.
While I’m in my car, driving to the spot we all agreed to meet, I get
nervous. I could pretend that my nerves have something to do with the hike,
but that would be a total lie. The hike is something I am looking forward to.
I can’t wait to see more of Joshua Tree, and I feel lucky to experience it
with Logan. And it has nothing to do with how much I want him. He’s an
experienced tour guide who has lived here for a while. I could pretend to
know everything because I’m a ranger, but I have been here less than a
month, so it would be ridiculous to assume I know more than him. My
nerves are all related to the potential awkwardness between us. I know he
will not be an asshole about it, but there is still plenty of room for things to
get weird.
When I arrive at the meetup spot, I’m relieved that even though I am
early, Logan, Wilder, and Grey are already here, or more accurately, that
I’m not alone here with Logan.
I get out of my car, take a moment to tuck my keys and my phone in my
backpack, and walk over to the guys who are deep in conversation, huddled
around a map spread out on the hood of Logan’s truck.
Before I can say hi, Wilder spots me, “There she is.” He wraps his arms
around me and brings me in for a big hug. Not going to pretend like I don’t
love it. Who wouldn’t want to be hugged by him? He might be one of the
nicest guys I have ever met. He loves to take care of everyone, and not to
mention, he’s easy on the eyes.
Grey waves. “Hey, Sawyer.”
“Hey Grey, good to see you.”
I turn my attention to Logan. Talk about awkward. I don’t know if I
should hug him. Of course, I want to. Urrrggghhh. I can’t be like this. ”Hi,
Logan. Thanks for the invite.” I make no move to hug him, banking on the
idea that if you aren’t sure if you should hug someone, then go with no.
He smiles at me but makes no move towards me. “Of course. Although, I
feel kind of weird giving a tour to a park ranger. I might get some
performance anxiety.” He makes a joke about it, but I see a glimpse of
something in his admission - maybe he is not as confident as he acts.
I wave him off. “Are you kidding? I just started here. You know so much
more about this place than I do. I couldn’t ask for someone better to learn
from.”
His face flushes a bit at my response. I take a moment to drink him in.
It’s been a few weeks since I have seen him and his hair is shaggier, curling
a little more on top. His ever-present scruff is too much for me. He is
wearing a long-sleeved red shirt and dark grey shorts. I try to not blatantly
check him out, but I’m pretty sure I fail.
He grins at me with an eyebrow raised, because he for sure caught me.
Deciding there is no point in pretending since we both laid it all out on the
line at Wilder’s house, I shrug my shoulders. If we aren’t going to touch, I
can still enjoy looking.
Someone clears their throat and I’m broken out of the trance. Averting
my attention to Wilder and Grey, it’s clear they are both enjoying this
moment way too much. Wilder is laughing quietly, and Grey is smiling.
He’s rather reserved, so that’s a lot coming from him.
Logan shoots them a glare, which does nothing to help. Clapping his
hands together, he says, “Let’s not waste any more time. Today, we are
hiking the Wonderland of Rocks Traverse. It’s a five and a half mile pointto-point trail. But, parts of it can get a little tough, so as I mentioned,
instead of going there and back and doing a beefy eleven miles, we are
going to go point to point. But we will tack on another mile - of flat terrain at the end and Denver will pick us up. Sound good?”
We all nod or say yes.
“Let’s get to it then.”
We set out and Logan provides a little background on the hike and
explains where we are in the park in relation to everything else. He explains
to us he knows he doesn’t have to tell us this stuff, but it helps him to think
about what he would say to a group he is leading. The guys give him shit
about using his tour guide voice.
I find his tour guide voice sexy. Or maybe it’s his confidence as he takes
over, telling us where to go and pointing out various focal points along the
way. Or maybe it’s his never-ending charm. Most likely, it’s just him.
Not helpful, I remind myself. It’s time to get over this crush and move on
to being friends. Wilder and Grey are both good-looking dudes. I need to
think about Logan, the way I think about them. Feeling fortified with my
new way of thinking about Logan, I decide to stop thinking about him and
start talking to him. And I mean actually talking.
However, it quickly turns into questioning.
Logan and I hike side by side, a little in front of Grey and Wilder. The
two men are deep in conversation, so I use the opportunity to pick Logan’s
brain. I ask him about his favorite parts of the park. I ask him about the
toughest hikes he has completed. I ask him about solo hiking. I ask him
about camping. My questions are endless. And he doesn’t seem to mind.
He’s a wealth of knowledge and it’s interesting to get his perspective and
compare it to what I have learned so far in my training, what I have read,
and what other rangers have told me.
“Why don’t we stop here and rest for a minute?” Logan stops and turns to
face us. “I realize the three of you don’t need it, but this is where I would
stop on a tour. I want to write down a few notes before I forget. While I do
that, maybe drink some water and/or eat a snack. We are going to be hiking,
but at some points, you are going to scramble over rocks for a bit as well.”
Don’t have to tell me twice. I take a seat on the ground, leaning back
against a rock, and start pulling things out of my backpack. First, my water.
Then, a bag of homemade trail mix. I’m lacking in a lot of areas of life, but
one area I have no shame about boasting my prowess? I’m never without a
snack. Or snacks. And I always bring plenty to share.
I hold out the bag to Wilder and Grey. They both happily take handfuls. I
would offer Logan some, but he walked away for a minute.
“Take as much as you want,” I say to them, gesturing to the bag I have
placed down between us.
Grey sits down next to me. “Did you make this trail mix?”
“Yep.”
“So, you are good at baking?”
“I dumped some ingredients in a bag. I wouldn’t call it baking.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Fine. I’m okay at cooking, but I think I’m an excellent baker.”
“Agreed. You are. I ate way too much of the stuff you brought over to
Wilder’s.”
“Yeah, the asshole came back over and finished most of my leftovers the
next day,” Wilder chimes in.
Grey smiles and it catches me off guard a bit. At first, I assumed he was a
bit of a grump, but now I suspect he is just quieter than the rest of his
friends.
The three of us fall into an easy conversation about cooking and baking.
Turns out Grey loves to bake. Or, as he says, he loves desserts, so he
learned how to bake. He talks animatedly about what he has tried and what
he wants to have a go at, most of his inspiration coming from people he
follows on social media. Wilder joins in as well. He eats even healthier than
I do, so he is not one for eating desserts often, but he cooks almost
everything. We discuss some of our favorite meals.
Each time I am around these guys, my level of comfort climbs as they are
welcoming and genuinely seem to care. Hopefully, one day, they won’t
think of me as Mae’s friend, but theirs as well, because I already am
considering them mine.
Logan comes back a bit later. “Ready to go?”
Grey, Wilder, and I pack up our stuff and stand up.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.” I don’t say more, but I
assume they will catch on. It’s more difficult to pee outside as a woman
than a man. I grab my GoGirl from my backpack and walk away, trying to
find as private a spot as I can. Getting a GoGirl was life-changing. No
longer do I have to pull my pants or shorts all the way down to pee outside.
Life. Changing.
I catch up to the guys a few minutes later and almost immediately we are
scrambling up and over boulders and down the other side, using our hands
and our feet to navigate the terrain. It gets me breathing hard, but I love the
challenge.
As the difficulty of the hike has increased, the easy chatter has ceased.
The talk amongst us now consists of warnings to each other and discussions
about the best way up and over.
Besides the conversation, I notice another change. And I don’t like this
one. Not one bit.
Logan has taken it upon himself to make sure I don’t need help. It’s not
just that, though. That I would be okay with. He is hovering, constantly
offering me his hand, or trying to help me down from a big rock. But, the
thing is, I don’t need his help. Not once since we started this hike, have I
failed to keep up, or demonstrated that I’m not strong enough to do
something on my own.
At first, I try to tell myself that he is being nice. And I do like attention
from him. But, it becomes stifling. Then, I get pissed. Not once has he
offered Grey or Wilder a hand or hovered over them like they are a baby
taking its first steps.
“For fuck’s sake, just stop!” I don’t mean to full on yell at him, but my
reaction comes out louder than I expect.
“Stop, what?”
“Stop trying to help me. I’m perfectly capable of climbing down a rock
by myself.”
“I know, but I want to make sure.”
We are facing each other now. “Why don’t you ever check on Grey or
Wilder to make sure they are okay?”
“Because I have known them for a long time and I know they can handle
it.”
“I wouldn’t be a park ranger if I couldn’t handle it. You assume I need
help because I’m a woman.”
“Noooo. No. Don’t do that. I’m offering you help because we haven’t
hiked together before and I want to make sure you are good.”
“Bullshit.”
“Bullshit?”
“Yes. Bullshit. I assume you are familiar with the term. We both know if
there was a new guy here, you wouldn’t be offering him your hand every
time he needed to take a step down.”
It’s silent for a moment while Logan and I stare daggers at each other.
Then, he turns on his heel, grumbles something to the effect of, “Gotta take
a piss,” and walks away.
I’m fuming. I know I’m not wrong. It’s the same bullshit as the guy at the
store - assuming I can’t handle a little scrambling up and down over rocks
without help from a man. It’s stifling, and it’s ruining the experience. I’m
pissed at Logan for not seeing it or understanding it. But more than that,
I’m disappointed.
Naively, I’d put Logan on a pedestal, and I’m disappointed when he turns
out to be like most other guys. That when he looks at me, he only sees a
woman that needs to be saved, not someone strong enough to do things
herself. Coming from him, it hurts more than I’d like to admit.
Men give other men the benefit of the doubt. Only offering help if a man
has proven he needs it. It’s the opposite with women. They assume women
need a man’s help and women are required to prove it before they will
believe it. And even then, they don’t always.
This realization makes me fume. And I know it’s not fair. It’s not true of
all men or all women or of all situations, but it happens often enough and
it’s exhausting constantly having to explain myself or having to be “the
bitch” that calls it out.
Grey, Wilder, and I all stand there in an awkward group. I fold and unfold
my arms. I put them on my hips. I let them hang down. I start wringing
them. I don’t know what to do or what to say. They are Logan’s friends,
first and foremost.
Grey breaks the silence first. “I get what you are saying, Sawyer - and it
doesn’t make it okay - but I think Logan’s actions are rooted in his desire to
impress you.”
“Impress me?”
He shakes his head like I’m the dumbest person on the planet. “Yes, to
impress you. He’s not hovering around you because he thinks you can’t do
it on your own. He’s, you know... trying to impress you with his big, man
muscles. It’s obvious.”
“It is?”
Wilder snorts and he and Grey exchange a look. “Yep,” Grey confirms.
I try to sort through this new information. Why would Logan be trying to
impress me? I know he is down for a hookup, but that’s different territory
than trying to impress me. I’m not sure what to do with this.
That will have to wait. I should go find him and fix things. I will not
apologize - I have nothing to apologize for - but I want to make sure things
are okay between us.
“Hey.”
I turn and spot him walking back towards the three of us. “Hey.”
Neither of us says something for a moment until Wilder breaks the
silence. “Why don’t you two chat? Grey and I are going to go wait up
there,” he says, pointing up ahead.
Neither of us says anything while we wait for Grey and Wilder to give us
some space. When they are out of hearing distance, Logan’s gaze bores into
me. “I feel like I’m constantly getting everything wrong with you.”
This gives me pause. “No.” I soften my voice. “Not even close.” I think
about this for a minute. “It’s not just you. I try to call out sexist shit
wherever I see it. I feel like it’s my responsibility.”
“Why?”
“Well, while I think it’s everyone’s job to help put a stop to misogyny, I
feel a greater responsibility because I’m not only a woman, I’m not a small
woman.” I try for a moment of levity. “Some might even call me a big,
strong woman.” Logan’s eyes widen and I take that as my cue to continue.
“But, in all seriousness, I’m not tiny or petite, so I have always felt a little
more comfortable, a little more confident speaking up to men because I’m
not five feet and one hundred pounds. Men don’t physically intimidate me
as much as many other women simply because of my size.”
I pause and I’m not sure if Logan is going to say anything, so I keep
talking, partially because I want to say everything on my mind, partially
because I don’t want any awkward silence between us. “If it feels like I call
you out more than I do other people, it’s because I do. People look up to
you and you are a great guy. You aren’t the type of guy to fly off the handle
and call me a bitch because I call out your sexist behavior. You stop, you
think about, and you react calmly. You are an excellent example of how to
change. We’re all growing and changing and improving all the time. No one
expects you to be perfect. I know I am far from it.”
“What about with this stuff?”
“Like sexism and misogyny?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Give me an example of when you get it wrong.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Sawyer.”
“Fine.” My cheeks heat up in embarrassment. This time, it’s not from the
effect Logan has on me. It’s because I’m ashamed that I still have some
thoughts I am about to admit. “I, uh, one thing I know I need to work on is
double standards.” I let out a breath. “I still find myself thinking that a
woman is slutty when she sleeps around and the same behavior sounds
normal for a guy. As soon as I catch myself having those thoughts, I try to
rework my thinking, but they come automatically to me sometimes.” As I
am confessing this, I stare at the ground. Once I finish talking, I dare to
meet his gaze, but he is staring off to the side.
“Can you give me another example?”
I swallow. I work hard to own and combat my misogyny, but this isn’t
normally the kind of stuff I admit out loud. “Ummm, victim-blaming. When
I hear that a woman was sexually assaulted, I should think it’s horrific - end
of story. But, I’m guilty of wanting more information, like if she was drunk,
what she was wearing, or if she put herself in a dangerous situation. None
of that matters. Or, I try to put myself in her shoes and wonder if I would be
able to fight back. Once again, none of that matters. We should only talk
about the wrongness of the predator, not the prey. I’ve been working to
retrain my brain on a lot of that. While I don’t necessarily say these
thoughts out loud, even thinking them is damaging enough, and I know that
if I am thinking them, then other people are for sure saying them.”
I stop talking and it is quiet for a minute. Logan turns his back to me and
walks a few steps away. He takes his hat off and runs his hands through his
hair, before turning back around and walking towards me. I brace myself.
For what, I’m not sure. But, I’m feeling a little raw from my admissions. I
shared some of the shittiest parts of myself. This is not where I saw this
hike going today.
“Thank you.”
I nod, not sure of what to say or do.
“That helps me understand everything a bit more. I’ve been having a
difficult time with this because I think I am a nice guy.”
“You are,” I interject. “You can still be a nice guy and make sexist
comments.” I pause and think about what I said. “To an extent,” I clarify. I
remind him of what I said earlier. “Remember, this is a journey for all of us
and as long as you are trying to educate yourself and be better, that’s what
matters. Mostly...it’s not black and white. And I call you out the most
because I feel comfortable - safe - with you.”
We stare at each other for a moment. I feel the heat building between us,
or at least on my end. No other guy has ever affected me how Logan does.
We had a difficult and raw conversation, so there’s no reason I should be
thinking about kissing him (and a whole lot more) right now. But, I can’t
help it.
“And I don’t offer to help you because I think you’re weak.”
“Then why do you do it?”
He sighs. “Because maybe I want an excuse to be near you.” The words
come out deeper than his normal voice and I feel it throughout my entire
body.
Oh. Oh. I attempt to push out of my mind all the things that those words
make me think of, namely Logan being near me. Very near. Between my
legs, perhaps. I try to keep those thoughts at bay for the time being because
I have a point to make. “Do you think that instead of hovering, implying
that I can’t do it on my own, maybe you could talk to me, or even just stand
there and not say anything? And if I need help, I will ask for it.”
He nods.
He takes a step towards me.
I take a step toward him.
I suck in a breath. It is too much. He is too much. His touch and the
nearness of his body are consuming me. I can feel him. I can smell him.
And I want to taste him.
His hands find my hip bones and he grips me tight, pushing me gently
until my back is up against the offending boulder that started our
disagreement. His body lines up with mine, but I adjust, slipping one of my
legs between his, while tugging on the front of his shirt to pull him even
closer.
I’m not sure who closes the remaining distance between us. Him? Me?
Both of us? Doesn’t matter. His lips are on mine. And mine are on his.
I would like to say that the second our lips touch, it is everything and
magical and a fucking Disney movie. I wish I could say that. Instead, all I
can say is that the second our lips touch, it’s not enough. I want to consume
him. And be consumed by him.
Our mouths open, and when I slide my tongue into his, he moans into my
mouth. The sound of which shoots straight to my core, forcing me to find
relief by grinding against him in an effort to feel every hard inch of him.
Which, truth be told, between his shorts and my running tights, not a lot is
left to the imagination.
Moving my hands from the front of his shirt, I knock his hat off his head
and start running my hands through his hair. This fucking hair. I am
obsessed with his hair. Since the moment we met, I have dreamt of running
my hands through it. Now, he has me so worked up, I can’t even enjoy it.
His hand slips under my t-shirt and works its way up to my boobs. I have
my best sports bra on, but it is still a sports bra and will not stop holding my
tits captive without a fight.
I break my mouth away from his and start kissing my way down the
column of his throat just as one of his hands defeats my bra, works its way
underneath it, and zones in on my nipple. It may be my turn to let out a
moan.
Then he is gone. Not gone, just no longer all up in my business - the way
I want him to be. We are staring at each other, both of us out of breath. I’m
assuming I look as disheveled as he does.
“I’m sorry.”
Still catching my breath. “For kissing me, or for stopping?”
He grimaces, running a hand through his hair. “Both? Neither? I don’t
know. Fuck, Sawyer. I’m having a difficult time forming coherent
thoughts.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I need to make sure that you are good with this...with this just being a
hookup, because nothing has changed for me. I still don’t do relationships
or girlfriends or whatever you want to call it.”
My heart sinks. I try to keep the hurt off my face, but I’m not sure I’m
successful.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away.”
This hurts, but it’s not his fault. He has been clear on his feelings this
entire time. “You have nothing to apologize for. You have been honest this
entire time. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” I give him my best grin,
even if we both know it is fake. “You’re kind of hard to resist, though.”
Logan laughs.
It hurts. But at least I know what it’s like to kiss him. Now, I just have to
figure out a way to make myself forget.
“Are we good?” I ask. “Even if this,” I point my finger back and forth
between us, “isn’t going to happen, I like you and I don’t want things to be
awkward between us.”
“We’re good.”
“We better get going, then. Who knows what kind of trouble Wilder and
Grey have gotten into on their own.”
“You go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
I give him a once over and he blushes. “I have to get control of this
situation and then I’ll be right there.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. And then I leave him to it.
It only takes me about two minutes to catch up to Wilder and Grey.
“Where’s Logan?” Wilder asks. “Do you need help dumping his body?”
“Very funny, asshole.” I give him a little shove.
Are you okay, Sawyer? Grey asks. “You’re a little flushed. Maybe you
are getting dehydrated?”
Grey says it so innocently. I scan his face to see if he is making fun of
me, but he is expressionless. I wish I had taken a minute to use my phone to
see what the damage is. We have been hiking for almost two hours and I’m
sweating a bit - I’m sure I’m a mess, but hopefully they don’t know the
reason. Maybe they have no idea I practically mounted Logan a little ways
back. My entire body heats up again when I think about it.
From behind me, Wilder asks, “You didn’t happen to see a dying animal
back there, did you?” I spin around, horror spelled out across my face. He
continues on. “There were some loud moans and some rustling. I hope there
isn’t an injured creature.”
He does not have the poker face that Grey possesses because he’s already
cracking up. And his laughter causes Grey to lose it.
I spin around again, this time my attention directed at Grey. I point my
finger at him and narrow my eyes. “I expect better out of you Grey.”
He stops laughing, but he does nothing to hide the smile splitting his
face. “Oh Sawyer, come on now, you know it is the quiet ones you have to
look out for.” With that he reaches out and boops my nose.
I stand there for a moment longer, filled with my righteous indignation.
Then, it’s time to admit defeat. “Fuck off, assholes.” But, I say it with
levity. This causes both men to lose it once again.
They are still laughing when Logan walks up, his situation now
(hopefully) under control.
“Everything good here?” he asks.
“We are all good.”
“Let’s finish this bad boy,” Wilder says, clapping his hands together.
“Hang on sec,” says Grey, holding up one hand while walking closer to
Logan. “Did you get bit by a bug?” he asks pointing at Logan’s neck.
Logan moves to cover the offending spot on his neck right as I realize
what Grey is getting at, but Wilder is too fast for him, grabbing his arm so it
can no longer reach up and cover his neck. “I think,” Wilder starts but is
struggling to get the words out between wrestling Logan to the ground and
laughing, “I think it is more human-sized.”
Shaking my head, I walk over to them. “For the love, you idiots.” Grey
has joined them on the ground, a result of him laughing so hard. “Let’s get
going.”
One by one, they get up and we continue along. Logan lets us know we
still have about half a mile of scrambling up and down over rocks. Then,
the last mile of the hike should be super easy as it is finishes across flat
terrain.
Good. It will be the distraction I need to stop thinking about that kiss. In
terms of make-out sessions, it was short, but it was one I will be thinking
about for a long time. The feel of Logan’s hands on me, how quickly they
found their way under my shirt. The feel of his body pressed up against
mine. His tongue in my mouth.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Logan’s voice breaks through the instant
replay taking place in my mind and my body immediately responds to his
voice.
He and I are way past pretending, so I just shrug my shoulders. He
laughs. “Me too, Sawyer. Me too.”
Is it possible I might have the same effect on him as he has on me?
I don’t know how in the hell I am going to move on from that kiss, but
I’m going to have to figure out a way.
Not too long later, we finished scrambling over boulders and are once
again on flat land. We have a little under a mile to go to meet up with
Denver, where he will be waiting to drive us back to our cars. I’m getting
tired, but not sure if it is from the tough hike or the emotional high of
making out with Logan. Thankfully, I am distracted from those thoughts as
we pick our way across the open expanse, as the field is decorated with
Joshua trees. Found almost exclusively in the Mojave desert region, Joshua
trees are one hundred percent something out of a Dr. Seuss book. They are
bizarre and beautiful, and another example of something I did not know I
had been missing out on before coming here. With their trunk branching out
in multiple directions and their spiky leaves, they are one of a kind. Now
that I have seen them so many times, I can’t imagine not having
experienced them in person.
Making our way to our own personal finish line, I compare notes with
Logan about the trees, attempting to pick his brain so I can learn more and
to distract myself from thinking about him. I’m semi-successful in that by
the time we meet up with Denver, I have learned some new info, however I
have had no luck in my attempts to stop thinking about him. Or that kiss.
Kisses.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Sixteen
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
CHECKING MY CALENDAR TO see what tours I have scheduled in the
upcoming week and the date catches me by surprise. November third? How
did that happen? Where in the hell did the last month go? It should not be a
surprise to me considering we just celebrated Halloween, even so, time is
flying.
Or maybe I have been too out of it to notice the passage of time. That’s
not like me. I’m very much of the philosophy that we have a finite number
of days on Earth, so I should waste none of them. But right now, I don’t feel
like I am living life to the fullest. Just the opposite. I have been working
more than usual. And when I’m not working, instead of doing something
fun, I crash and burn and waste the day lying around.
Normally, on an off day, I make plans with one of my friends. Or I go on
an adventure by myself. Or, I research and plan for an upcoming adventure.
Not these days. Lately, I have been spending my off days on the couch,
bingeing shows I’m not even into.
I’m not a stick my head in the sand type of guy. After ignoring all the
signs for so long during my relationship with Kirsty, I vowed to always be
honest with myself going forward. So after a few weeks of being in this
funk, it’s past time to be truthful with myself. I open up a notebook, uncap a
pen, and take a seat. I take a few minutes to get started, but once I get into
it, I fill several pieces of paper with my thoughts.
When I put my pen down and read through the thoughts I vomited on the
page, it’s crystal clear there are a couple of main points of interest weighing
on me lately.
First, there is work. I feel like a shithead being down about work given
the success we have experienced with Wild Times, but right now, it’s not
exciting me the way it has in the past. And that makes me feel like an
asshole. I have a successful business that allows me to do something I love
and work with my cousin. We have two employees who I trust and like to
hang out with. I’m financially secure and I get to dictate my hours. Where
do I get off complaining?
A piece of the problem I have been trying to avoid and part of the reason
work is rough is that Brady is pissing me off. I feel traitorous even thinking
this, but it’s the truth. And over breakfast today, I got close to losing it on
him, which is so not something that happens. Ever.
While our group of friends has become like a second family to me over
the past few years since we moved out here, Brady is still my person.
Whether it’s because he is my actual blood relation or because we have
known each other our entire lives, who knows? What I do know is Brady
and I don’t let shit between us left unsaid.
And the way we left things today, that was exactly what happened.
A while back, I shared with Brady some potential changes I wanted to
make to our tour offerings. He shot me down, citing our bottom line as the
end-all, be all. I let it go because he knows more about that stuff than I do,
but it chafed a bit because I felt like a kid asking a parent for permission.
The implication was there for me to stay in my lane - being the goof who
entertains people on tours. Once I got over the sting of his words, I decided
even if I couldn’t stop providing one of our popular tours, then I could at
least add fun and new offerings to the mix.
After careful consideration, I took Sawyer, Grey, and Wilder out on a
mock run-through of the tour. It was perfect and exactly what I needed, but
I haven’t followed through to having Brady add it to our website. I’m not
sure why.
Reading back over what I wrote once again, I know why I don’t want to
take anyone else on that tour, but I don’t want to admit it.
Because of her.
How am I supposed to take other people on that tour and not think about
her every single time? How am I supposed to not think about how easy it is
to talk to her? Or how, even when we disagree, I end up liking and
respecting her more? How am I supposed to not think about the feel of her
body as I pushed her up against the rock? Or how good it felt when she
pushed back? Am I not supposed to think about how I had just gotten my
hands on her tits when I forced myself to stop? Am I supposed to forget
about the little sounds coming from her as I played with her nipples?
I have been doing my best to forget, but it’s not going well. Forcing
myself to go on Sawyer’s hike, at least that’s how I refer to it in my head, is
not helping me move past the kiss.
The best way to do that is to give her space, but that has become
increasingly more difficult as she is now friends with my friends. Actual
friends. I’d say she’s my friend too, but that feels shitty, like a consolation
prize.
She is trying to give me space as well. Anytime she and I end up together
with the group, it’s clear she avoids me. Sawyer’s never mean or hurtful,
but I know her well enough that she will not allow herself to get hurt. I’m
happy she protects herself. It hurts a little, but I get it. I have to tamp down
my jealous caveman, begging to come bursting out, when I notice how she
will sit and talk for hours with the other guys but make an excuse to escape
after a few minutes of being in a conversation with me.
I’m being a whiny baby about this entire situation. Even though I can’t
stop thinking about her, what did I expect to happen? That she and I hook
up once and then go back to the way everything is? I realize I could give in,
I could open myself up to a relationship with her. But, been there and done
that. Had to pick up the pieces of my heart when it was done. I’m not the
guy girls want to settle down with. I’m a good time until they move on to
something more serious.
Works for them. Works for me.
Standing up, I crumple up the paper and whip it across the room. I’m not
even making sense anymore. I’m talking myself into circles. This has got to
end.
Okay, two key problems. Problem one, Brady is getting on my nerves
with business shit and he and I need to hash it out. Problem two, I need to
get Sawyer out of my mind.
I could hook up with another woman - that should do the trick. Even as I
think about it, I know I’m lying to myself. The idea of hooking up with
someone else feels wrong.
Then I need to hook up with Sawyer.
But she wants a relationship.
Fucking going in circles again and again.
I’m done thinking about this for now. I don’t know what to do about
Sawyer, but I’ll talk to Brady tomorrow. I can at least solve one problem.
Right now, I’m going to go for a run, even though I know running from my
problems won’t solve anything.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Seventeen
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
MAE AND I END up working together several times this week. It happens
and I haven’t yet been able to figure out if Mae has a hand in it or if it’s
pure luck. Regardless of the reason, I appreciate the extra time I get to
spend with my new friend. Although, over the past month, Mae has
morphed from a new friend/coworker into my best friend and then finally
into the sister I’ve never had. Which is a horrible thing to think, because I
have a sister. Kylie is three years younger than me and we couldn’t be more
different. She is not a bad person, not in the slightest. We just don’t share
any common interests. And since she is a clone of my parents - loves the
city, is into status and money, engaged before she even graduated college it’s easy to understand why we have never been close.
In all the books I read growing up, they always depicted the relationship
between sisters as the closest bond. Reading about what it was supposed to
be like between Kylie and me has always left me feeling like a failure,
especially as the older sister. Like, if I had tried a little harder or had been a
little less me, then maybe we could have a better relationship.
I still mourn the lack of a relationship between my sister and I, but since
meeting Mae, it stings a little less. It happened quickly and with little effort
- she became my sister, my person. Now, I can’t imagine my life without
Mae.
Mae has made everything about my move out here better. From having a
confidante at work to having someone to hang out with in our free time to
introducing me to her friends who I now can claim as my own. I can’t
imagine being here without her.
Today, she and I are at a nearby elementary school to lead a fun (and
educational) activity for a couple of fourth-grade classes. It’s a change of
pace for us as these kinds of opportunities rarely come up, but I’m excited
to teach some local kids about Joshua Tree. And of course, my day is
always better if I get to work with Mae.
I’m a little nervous about giving this presentation for the first time. There
are the usual nerves, because it is the first time I am doing this, plus kids are
(usually) a tougher audience than adults, seeing as though it’s not their
choice to be here. I welcome the nerves though, because all my anxiety
about providing a great presentation has helped me keep my mind off of
Logan.
It’s been a full month and I can’t get the kiss out of my head. Maybe I
would be able to if I didn’t see him so often. It’s been torture. It feels like
every time I see him; he gets just a little sexier. It doesn’t seem possible, but
it’s true.
It might also be because it was far and away the best kiss of my life.
While I might not be used to the best-looking guy flirting with me, hitting
on me, and kissing me, I have been with my share of guys. One kiss
shouldn’t be so damn memorable. Okay, one make-out session with a side
of feeling me up. Still, this is getting ridiculous.
“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Mae’s voice breaks
through my thoughts. We are in the hallway, waiting outside the classroom
where we are going to present in a few minutes.
“What? No.” I stammer. Smooth, Sawyer.
Mae bursts out laughing. “I’ve never been into Logan, but with how long
you have been hung up on one kiss, I might have to give it a go.”
I glare at her. I know she’s just fucking with me, but still.
“Down girl.” Mae laughs again. “You know I would never. He’s like my
brother. Gross.” She shudders, driving home her disgust at the idea.
Trying to deflect, I ask Mae, “Are you ever going to admit who does it
for you?”
“I don’t deny it’s a great-looking group of guys that we hang out with,
but when I met all of them, I was dating Eric, so I never thought about any
of them like that. And now that I’m no longer in an awful relationship, it
doesn’t matter because where my brain and my vagina are concerned, all of
them have been friendzoned.”
I say nothing for a moment. Mae and I have discussed her ex-boyfriend
at length. I almost laugh when I think about him because he seems the exact
opposite of who I would imagine her with. I guess that’s why they are no
longer together.
“So we know why I don’t want a relationship, but you still haven’t
explained your perspective on it.”
I don’t know what she means, and I’m sure the confusion shows on my
face. “What do you mean? I want a relationship. Logan doesn’t.”
“I know. What I meant was, we know why I’m the way that I am. Why
are you the way that you are? Meaning, why do you insist on a
relationship?”
“Because it’s what I want.”
“Yes, but why?”
I’m getting a little agitated. “Wh - Why?” I stammer. I’m at a loss. Why
do I want a relationship? Because, because that’s what grownups do. You
meet someone, you date, you get married... shit. Now I sound like my sister
or my parents. No thanks. Why do I want a relationship? I guess I don’t
know. I just thought it was what you did. What you were supposed to do.
Holy hell.
Have I become the person I have been running away from my entire life?
Am I trying to be in a relationship because that’s what people do?
Before I can think any more on it, Mae says, “To be clear, I’m not saying
you shouldn’t hold out for a relationship, if it’s what you want. Just make
sure you know why you want it.”
I don’t say anything as I try to think it through. Why is a relationship so
important to me? I like Logan - no question. But why am I insisting on a
relationship? Is demanding a relationship but getting no part of Logan better
than agreeing to only hooking up and getting to be with him? I don’t think I
like the idea of being a one-and-done hookup. Random hookups have never
worked for me. I think it would make me feel cheap. Good for other people,
but not for me.
Does it have to be all or nothing? Could Logan and I meet in the middle?
Huh.
It’s not a novel concept, compromise, but it hasn’t occurred to me
before.
“Mae, you are my most favorite and a mother fucking genius.” I whisper
this last part because we are in a school. Not like any of the rest of our
conversation has been school-appropriate, but I have to at least try not to
scar the kiddos.
“No, not in so many words, but I assume both about myself. Just
checking though, what did I do to deserve mother fucking genius status this
time?” She, too, lowers her voice when she drops the f-bomb.
The door to the classroom opens and the teacher we are working with
waves us in. Quickly, I tell her, “Tonight, you are driving us to Wilder’s. I’ll
explain on the way.”
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eighteen
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
“ANYONE NEED A DRINK? Or anything else?” Wilder asks us as he gets
up from the table and heads back to the kitchen.
“Nooooo,” moans Denver. “Don’t bring anything else out here. It’s too
delicious and I’m too weak to say no.”
Denver is over the top, per usual, but he speaks the truth. Wilder is
always the best host, but he pulled out all the stops tonight. While we never
need an excuse to hang out, eat, and drink, something’s up. I’d put money
on this is him buttering us up for a big ask. The joke’s on him though,
because of course we would all say yes to anything he asks. Doesn’t mean
we won’t moan and groan about it though.
I catch Sawyer staring at me from across the table. This is nothing new
for either of us. I catch her looking at me frequently. I would bet she catches
me drooling over her even more. And not just at her tits and ass.
When we first met, one of us would catch the other staring and we would
both avert our eyes, not acknowledging our attraction to each other. Now
we have both laid our cards on the table, so we’ve stopped trying to hide it.
Like right now. I use the opportunity to take her all in as she holds my gaze
across the table.
Tonight, she is particularly pretty. She doesn’t wear her hair down often.
It’s dark brown and hits around her shoulders. It’s not stick-straight, rather
there is a bit of a wave or curl to it. I don’t know what the fuck you call it,
but I like it. I like her. Combine that with the smattering of light brown
freckles across her cheeks and nose and I’m done for. She is somehow
adorable and fucking hot as hell at the same time.
Every time I see her, it’s more difficult to remember why I’m so stuck on
this notion of no relationships, because if I agreed to a relationship with her,
then I would get her. All of her. We already hang out, but then I would get
to hook up with her as well. To know what she feels like and sounds like
when I bury myself in her.
I don’t think I’m quite ready to agree to a relationship yet, but like
Denver with food, when it comes to Sawyer, I don’t have a lot of
willpower.
But we are both stubborn. Right now being the perfect example, as
neither of us will be the first one to look away. I know she is attracted to
me, but I can’t imagine I have the same effect on her as she has on me. She
makes me feel like I’m thirteen again and sporting wood at all the most
inopportune times. Based on the red creeping up her neck, I’m guessing I
have at least a bit of an effect on her.
Someone coughs loudly and the staring contest Sawyer and I are having
breaks. A quick glance to my left confirms my suspicion. Grey is the
culprit.
“Might want to get that checked out,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes at me.
I make an excuse to retreat to the kitchen. It’s a bit of a gymnastics feat I
perform, getting up from the table without anyone catching a glimpse of
what Sawyer does to me, but I pull it off and escape into the kitchen. I take
out a fresh glass from the cabinets and fill it with ice-cold water, hoping it
will help cool me off.
I have to figure out what I want. I can’t keep going on like this. Sawyer
and I have been keeping our distance from each other for the past month,
and it has done nothing to help.
“Logan.”
I set the glass down next to the sink and turn around. She’s so fucking
beautiful. I’ve never seen her dressed up, but I can’t imagine it gets any
better than this.
I don’t even pretend to hide my perusal of her body as I take her all in.
She’s wearing a blue sweatshirt dress thing, but somehow, it accentuates
every irresistible part of her. When my survey of her body makes its way up
to her face, I stop.
The look she is giving me tells me she wants me as much as I want her.
Fuck. I’m not sure if I can give her a relationship like she wants, so I can’t
give in until I know for sure. I can’t hurt her. Since I do not know what else
to say, I apologize. “I’m sorry.”
She walks up to me and stops a couple of feet away. “Don’t be.”
My breath hitches. “No, I am. You were clear and I shouldn’t be
checking you out, I ju - I just can’t help it. You are so fucking gorgeous.”
She breathes a little harder. “I’ve been thinking. If a relationship is a nonstarter for you, then I would rather have this,” she points back and forth
between us, “as just a hookup, as opposed to not having you at all.”
I suck in a breath. Is this for real? Is she for real?
Before I can ask her, she continues, “However, I have one stipulation.” I
let out a breath because I should have been expecting that. I shouldn’t have
gotten my hopes up. “If we do this and we are both... satisfied.” If I wasn’t
so impatient to figure out what she was getting at it, I would think she was
adorable. “Then I propose this be more than a one-time thing. I’m not
asking for a relationship, but I don’t want a one-time hookup either. More
like...fuck buddies?”
Fuck buddies. Sawyer has no problem swearing, so I have heard her drop
f-bombs plenty of times. However, I have not heard her use the word fuck
regarding something she and I could do. Together.
I’m immediately hard.
Or harder.
Okay. Fuck buddies. Huh. That is something I can get behind. Or in front
of. And under. And definitely over. Fuck buddies. “Are you sure? That
sounds amazing, more than amazing, to me, but I don’t want to hurt you.
You said you had feelings for me. I don’t want to put you in a position to
get hurt when I can’t give you what you need.”
“I do. Like you, that is. But, I’m a big girl. A big, strong woman, and I
know what I’m doing.” She gives me a smile that slays me. I’m done for
this woman.
“Fuck. You will never let me live that down.”
“Not a chance.”
“Come here.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I disregard them and close the
distance between us myself. I’m like a fucking madman trying to touch
every inch of her at once. Sawyer and I are a blur of hands, lips, teeth, and
tongues. She pulls me flush against her and I back her up against the island.
I grind my hips against her right as I fist her hair and give it a little tug,
effectively making her lean her head back and expose the column of her
neck. Right as my mouth touches her neck, she lets out a moan.
A second later we stop, realizing we must be a little louder than we
thought as all conversation in the next room has ceased.
Burying her face in my neck, she says, “Oh fuck. Any chance they
stopped talking for some other reason?”
I wrap my arms around her and relish holding her close for a few seconds
before I respond. “Not a chance.”
“Nooooooo,” she moans.
“Quiet. They’re still listening.”
She pulls her head back and when she sees me lick my lips, she lightly
slaps my chest. I grab her hand, entwine our fingers, and steal one more
kiss. Her other hand goes to the front of my pants and palms me.
“Fuuuck.” It’s her turn to laugh now.
”As much as I want you right here, right now, do you think we could get
out of here?” Her voice wobbles a little, tipping me off to her nervousness.
Like there is any chance in hell I would say no. Like I’m not about to throw
her over my shoulder and run out of here.
“Yes, please. Your place or mine?”
“Mine. No roommate.” She gives me a sheepish grin.
“Perfect. Let’s go.” I take Sawyer’s hand and start dragging her towards
the front of the house. Before we reach the door, I stop short and she runs
into my back. Turning around, I tell her, “My keys and phone are on the
dining room table.” Where everyone else is. “Stay here,” I tell Sawyer.
You can’t go in there like that,” she whispers, gesturing to the front of my
pants. I’m still pitching a sizable tent. I try to adjust to no avail. Not sure
what else to do, I walk towards the dining room. Not exactly how I want to
enter a room, but most of them have seen me with morning wood, so they
will have to deal.
I’m almost to the door when Sawyer yanks my arm back. “Stay!” she
demands.
Am I a fucking dog? But, of course, I listen to her.
She marches into the room. It goes silent and then breaks out in cheers,
yelling, and wolf whistles. Jesus Christ, I can’t let her face the group alone.
Scanning the kitchen, I pick up an empty pot from the drying rack in the
sink, hold it in front of my junk, and walk into the room. Brady notices me
first and fucking loses it. Everyone else follows suit. I try to keep a straight
face, but who am I kidding? That lasts about two seconds.
Once I compose myself, I say, “I’m going to take off.” Turning my
attention to Mae, I add, “I’m going to drive Sawyer home, so stay as long as
you want.” I try to be normal about it, but there is no chance at this point as
Mae jumps out of her seat and breaks out into a ridiculous dance composed
mostly of fist pumps.
Without a word of acknowledgement, Sawyer picks up my phone and
keys off the table and heads back toward me. Her face is red and I hope she
isn’t too embarrassed. I know everyone here loves her and thinks of her as
one of the group now.
“Wait a second.” We both turn back around at Wilder’s voice. “I haven’t
even had a chance to give you my spiel yet - the reason I invited everyone
over tonight.” But even as he says it, I can tell he doesn’t expect us to stay.
“I knew you were buttering us up for something. You can count me in for
whatever you need, but right now, I don’t give a shit.”
“Me too. I can help with whatever you need.” Sawyer pipes in.
Wilder rubs his hangs together, pleased with our responses. “Perfect. I’m
going to hold you both to that.”
I take Sawyer’s hand with my hand that’s not holding the cookbook and
pull her away. I yell over my shoulder. “Give us all the details tomorrow,
but don’t call early because we are going to be up late.”
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Nineteen
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
LOGAN’S LEAD FOOT—NOT SURE if that is a normal thing for him or
if he’s anxious to get to my place—combined with Wilder’s house only
being a short drive from mine, and we are back at my house in record time.
We have a difficult time keeping our hands to ourselves. His right hand
rests firmly on my upper thigh for the entire drive. And the few times we
have to stop at a red light (and once at a stop sign), I kiss him. I have to stop
myself from jumping across the seat and straddling him.
By the time we pull up in front of my townhouse, I’m ready to explode
out of my skin. I’ve had sex plenty of times in the past, but never have I felt
this intense of a build-up to the actual act. Maybe it’s because this is about
six weeks in the making, or maybe it’s just Logan.
Wasting no time, we both hop out of his truck and slam the doors shut. I
am prepared with my key in my hand so I don’t have to dig through my
purse in the dark and force us to wait even longer. Even so, my hand is
shaking a bit as I try to put the key into the lock. Not making matters any
easier, Logan comes up behind me, slips an arm around my waist, and
presses his erection into my ass. The key and lock momentarily forgotten, I
use the door frame as leverage to press back against him.
Logan’s other hand skims up the side of my dress until he finds my breast
and squeezes it. Hard.
I drop my keys.
“Shit.” I turn to face him. “Okay, I need you to back up three steps.”
Concern flashes across his face. “No. No. Everything is wonderful.
Amazing, even, but I can’t think straight with you being so close and
touching me. I want you, but not out here. Give me a second to get the door
open, then you are welcome to attack me.”
Smiling, he drops down to pick up my keys. Taking them from him, I
manage to get the door unlocked and walk through it. Turning around, I
barely have time to drop my purse and keys before he pulls my dress up and
over my head in one swift movement. “Been planning that move all night.”
Only now does he slow down. “For the love, Sawyer, you are so damn
gorgeous.”
It’s not the first time he has called me gorgeous, and I’m not sure I
believe him, except for the way he is looking at me, like he is trying to
memorize every detail of me. The heat in his eyes makes me more willing
to believe he might be telling the truth - more than any words ever would.
Before he can completely close the distance between us, I return the
favor of taking his shirt off. Though it’s a selfish move on my part because
as much time as we have spent together since I moved here, I haven’t had
the opportunity to see him with his shirt off yet.
And it does not disappoint.
Logan is tall and lean, but corded with muscle. His pecs are well-defined
but not overly muscular, covered with a sprinkling of hair. I want to devour
him, but force myself to slow down. I take my time tracing a finger up,
down, and around his body. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, except
right now I’m unconcerned with the unfairness, as I’m too caught up in
touching his torso, inch by naked inch.
I know women are always into abs and that hot as fuck v-thing some
guys have got going on, but not me (I mean yeah, I don’t hate it). I’ve
always been a back and forearms kind of girl. I haven’t gotten a good peek
at his back yet, but thoughts of Logan’s forearms (amongst other things)
have been making me come for weeks now. Would it be weird if I started
licking the ridges of muscle in his forearms? Maybe I’ll save that level of
crazy for round two. For now, I continue drawing lines on his skin.
Logan sucks in a breath and halts my exploration right as my finger dips
below his belly button. “You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”
I let out a laugh that comes out a whole lot throatier than I had planned.
Who am I right now? Fuck buddies? Throaty laughs? Not caring, I loop my
arms around his neck and kiss him again. I try to take my time, but his
hands once again find my breasts. This time he pinches my nipple through
my bra and a spark shoots through me.
I break the kiss just enough to pull my lips back a hair. “Want to go to my
room?”
“Yes. I have plans to fuck you on every surface of this place, but right
now, I want you on your bed.”
“Good. Then you will fulfil every fantasy I’ve had about you lately.”
“Fantasy? About me?”
“Who else?”
Grinning wolfishly, he replies, “Later, I’m going to need to hear about
these fantasies.” Logan spins me around, so his front is once again to my
back. “In detail.” He nips at my ear. “Lead the way, Sawyer.”
Fuck. There is something about the way he says my name.
I start walking down the hall towards my bedroom but am instantly
yanked back to him. “Not so fast.” From behind me, he wraps his arms
around me so we are flush against each other. “Okay, now you can walk.”
I can feel him smiling into my ear. As I start to walk again - which is
slow and difficult in this position - he yanks down the front of my bra, my
breasts spilling out over the top of the fabric. At first, it is the lightest touch,
his fingers making circles around my nipples, getting closer and closer, and
“AHHH! Did you flick my nipple?”
At first, he only responds by stroking my nipple. “You stopped walking,
and I had to get your attention somehow.” I was so caught up in his touches,
in him, that I stopped right in the middle of the hallway. He gives a little
chuckle and even though I can’t see his face, I’m imagining the smile he is
giving me - the one he uses to get away with everything.
Not this time. I spin around, catching him off guard. I push him up
against the hallway wall and kiss him while I take my bra the rest of the
way off. I rub up against him, pushing my tits against his chest.
He reaches around to grip my ass and uses it to pull me against him even
further. “Oh fuck, Sawyer. You feel so good. I will not be satisfied until I
have had every inch of you, and even then, I will want you again and
again.”
His words spur something in me. As great as dry humping him in my
hallway is, enough of this. I take a step back, take him by his hand, and then
turn to drag him the last couple of steps to my bedroom. He doesn’t fight
me, instead lets me pull him into the room.
As we stumble into the room, I realize in our sexual frenzy, we never
even finished stripping, both of us naked on top, but still wearing pants (or
leggings for me) and shoes.
“Strip,” I tell him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hurry to get out of my shoes and strip my leggings off, leaving myself
only in a pair of black underwear that I took way too long to choose earlier
tonight. Fortunately, my rushing allows me to sit back and enjoy the show.
Logan has on a pair of beat-up brown boots and dark khaki-colored pants.
His boots slow him down considerably. I have already stripped, sat down on
the edge of my bed, and am leaning back on my elbows watching him by
the time he reaches for the button on his pants.
“Like what you see?”
“We both know the answer to that.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off of me as he unzips his pants and shoves them
down his legs. Now, he’s only in his black boxer briefs. Boxer briefs that
are doing nothing to hide his desire.
Seeing him like this, I can’t help myself. I stand back up and take a step
toward him. Before I can touch him, he takes a hold of my wrists. “Get
back on the bed so I can make you come.”
Oh.
Okay.
So here’s the thing.
In normal life, I would never let a man (or woman) make demands of me
or speak to me like that. In the bedroom? I kind of like it. As long as
whoever I’m with also likes me taking charge sometimes, then I don’t mind
giving up control when it is my choice.
Hearing Logan speak to me using that confident, demanding voice—I’m
putty. I take a step backward towards the bed and sit down. I scoot up
towards the headboard and lay back, my hair fanning out around me. Logan
crawls up to me and hovers over me. I spread my legs, allowing him to
settle himself between them.
He reaches out to touch me right between my legs, but pauses. “Are you
wet for me, Sawyer?”
My only response is a sound that should not come out of an adult woman
but nonetheless does. A half snort, half-laugh. Am I wet? Like there is any
question.
“What’s so funny?”
“I have been wet for you since the grocery store parking lot.”
He checks to see if I’m being serious. He manages a low growl in
response as his fingers dip into the sides of my underwear, but before he
pulls them down, he stops. “Can I take these off?”
Quick nod yes from me and he rips them down my legs.
Before he has a chance to touch me, I press my lips to his chest. I hold
him down on me, enjoying the feel of his weight on me. My tongue darts
out to lick one of his nipples as my hand settles on his bulge. He pulls back
from me.
“You first, otherwise I’m afraid I won’t last long enough.”
As I move my hand up to his hair, one of his hands is traveling up my
leg, to my inner thigh. He brushes against my folds and my breath hitches.
Using his thumb, he rubs it across my clit. One pass of my clit has me
bucking up off the bed, pressing myself into his hand and him, searching for
more.
He chuckles. “Someone likes her clit touched.”
“Yes, someone does. But not just touched. Rubbed. Hard.”
Logan sits up, so he is on his heels. He slips one finger into me. “Ah
fuck, Sawyer. You are so damn wet. I can’t wait to bury myself in you.”
Then he slides in another finger and pumps in and out.
The combination of his words and his fingers in me has me building
toward an orgasm already, but knowing myself and what I need, I know I
won’t get there without some significant clit action.
I spread my legs as far as I can to give Logan better access and reach for
his free hand. I put my hand on top of his and then show him exactly how I
like to be touched - the pace, the number of fingers, and how hard.
“Oh yeah, babe. Like this?” I pull my hand away and he mimics what I
showed him. The friction he is creating combined with his fingers pumping
in and out of me has my body trembling with need. The need for more. The
need for release.
“Oh shit, Logan. Feels so good.” My body is climbing higher and higher,
trying to reach that peak, racing towards the finish line and I can no longer
speak in complete sentences. But, in order to get there, I need a bit more. As
I am about to reach the peak, I take the hand fingering me and hold it still,
allowing his other hand to continue to rub my clit. It’s what I need as a
shock wave of pleasure overtakes my entire body. I let out a moan and pulse
around his hand.
I sink back into the mattress as the aftershocks keep coming. A wave of
satisfaction rolls through me and then I pounce. I push Logan over and
straddle him. Thinking better of it, I move to the side for a minute so I can
rid him of his underwear. I glance up at him, making sure it’s okay. “Hell
yes.” Then, before I can, he pulls them down and throws them off the bed.
Before hopping back on top of him, I take a moment to admire him.
Sometimes I feel like a weirdo or even shallow, because I’m obsessed with
his looks. He’s beautiful. And now? Naked? He’s a work of art.
I feel needy and greedy because, even though I just had a fucking
fantastic orgasm, I’m getting all tingly again from staring at him.
“Oh shit. Fuck.” Logan’s cursing halts my survey of his body. Sitting up,
he says, “I don’t have any condoms. Fuck.” He starts to get up, “I’ll run to
the gas station -”
“Slow your roll.” I lean over to my night stand, take out a box I bought
earlier in the day, and throw it on the bed. “Picked these up today. We are
all good. I’m on the pill, but we are still using a condom, too.”
He picks them up off the bed and flips onto his back, and then halts. He
doesn’t appear to give a shit about the discussion of birth control, but
instead focuses on the least important part of what I said. “You bought these
earlier today?”
“Yep.”
“So you were planning on seducing me?”
I scoff. But not wanting to waste anytime, I open the box, take out one
condom and hand it to him.
Logan jumps back on the bed, tears the condom open, and rolls it on.
“Come here,” he says, hands wrapping around my waist to pull me back on
top of him. “I want you to ride me.”
My thighs clench and I can’t wait another minute. I need him in me. I sit
up higher on my knees and grip his cock, bringing to my entrance. “This
good?”
“Hell yes. You?”
“Yes.”
I slowly sink down on him, stopping for a moment to re-adjust before
sinking the rest of the way down on his cock. I can hardly breathe, hardly
think of anything beyond how good he feels inside of me. Neither of us
moves for a moment.
“Ride me,” he commands.
So I move. And I ride him hard. My hands rest on his chest as I move up
and down on his cock. His hands grip my ass cheeks, spreading me even
wider. Our hands continued to explore each other as we move together. I
can no longer tell if I am in control or if he is. We are moving as one and
then when he lets go off my ass with one hand and brings it around to rub
my clit - hard, I lose it. My orgasm builds so fast I barely have time to say,
“I’m about to come.”
“Me too, babe. Let go, I’m right there.”
I let out a loud - potentially very loud - moan right as I start to quake.
A few seconds later, Logan lets out a grunt and empties himself into me.
We are both out of breath and panting. My body feels like jelly and I
can’t hold myself up any longer. Logan’s still inside of me, but I can’t take
it anymore, so I slip off of him and lie down on him, still straddling him but
taking care not to crush him. “Is this okay? Am I hurting you?”
“No, you’re perfect.” His arms come around me and hold me flush to
him, his fingers gently ghosting up and down my back.
I groan. “You keep that up and we are going to be sleeping in this
position.”
“Promises. Promises.”
I pull up from him. I want to see him. I run one of my hands through his
hair and give him a peck.
He lets out a low moan. “What are you doing to me, Sawyer?”
“Well, hopefully a lot more of this business.” I gesture up and down the
length of our bodies, still pressed together.
Letting out an over the top moan, he pushes me off of him and rolls over
so I’m on my side, but he is somehow between my legs. “Don’t move.” He
gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom to, I assume, dispose of the
condom. He’s back a minute later, but instead of jumping back in bed, he
stands there for a minute.
He stares at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Just trying to take you all in. I’ve been checking you out since the day
we met, but I have had to be stealthy about it - until now. So, now, I’m
enjoying getting to stare at you - all of - without worrying about getting
caught.
“Newsflash, you are not nearly as stealthy as you think.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really.”
Logan jumps on the bed and starts to tickle me.
I’m extremely ticklish.
“Stop. Stop. No Logan.” I push at him and flair my arms, but can’t stop
laughing. “Seriously, someone’s going to call the cops on us.”
This gets him to stop. “Think they would let me borrow their handcuffs
to use on you?” He raises his eyebrow and I can’t help but fall a little for
him. He’s so ridiculous and cute and hot and sexy and fun and smart. Stop
it, I chastise myself. This is only sex. Nothing else. Enjoy the sex, but don’t
get attached.
Sinking down beside me on the bed, Logan props his head up on one
hand.
“What?” I ask. He hasn’t said anything. He isn’t even looking at me,
rather looking everywhere in the room, but at me.
“Oh sorry,” he says. “I was snooping. I like how you decorated your
room.”
Sitting up, I look around. “Well, we trashed it a bit, but it was clean
before.”
“It’s very you.” He nods towards a wall of shelves filled with art prints,
books, craft stuff, plants, mementos...basically everything important from
my life. My bedroom and the kitchen are the only parts of the townhouse
that I have had any time to work on so far.
It is very me, but I’m not sure what he means by that. “Oh? And you
think you know me so well already?” I let the sarcasm drip from my
comment.
“Yes.” He pulls me over so I’m laying on top of him. “It’s colorful and
beautiful and seemingly intelligent, not to mention incredibly organized.”
I laugh. “Thanks? I think.”
“You’re welcome.
A FEW MINUTES LATER, we are in the kitchen, having a midnight snack.
We each have a fork and are eating cold leftovers. Logan has his boxer
briefs back on, and I have a short robe wrapped around me. I’m not really
hungry, so after a few bites, I put my fork in the sink and watch him for a
minute. I like him here, in my space. It’s comfortable and feels right.
I once again have to remind myself to not get used to this.
He’s watching me intently. “What?” I ask. “What are you thinking
about?”
“You promised to tell me all the ways you fantasize about me when you
masturbate.”
I cock my head to the side. “I’m not sure those were my exact words, but
I’ll give you one.”
His mouth drops open, tongue practically wagging.
I take a step closer to him so I can whisper in his ear. “A time or...three, I
have imagined what it would be like for you to bend me over this counter,”
I tap a finger on the counter next to us, “and take me from behind.”
“I like that beautiful brain of yours.” Logan drops his fork on the counter
and spins me around. “Spread your legs and lean over the counter.”
I spread my legs a little right as he takes a step closer and grinds his cock
into my ass. To say I was instantly wet would be a lie because I was already
wet to begin with - it seems to be how I find myself when he is around. Or
even when I’m just thinking about him. Needless to say, the feel of him
arouses me more.
“Bend over and put your hands on the counter. You don’t get to touch me
now. I only get to touch you.” I can hear the rustle as he drops his
underwear and throws a condom on the countertop next to me. Not sure
where he was hiding it. Then, he pushes his cock between my legs, rubbing
up against me right as he reaches around and pinches my nipple. I push
back against him and he laughs. “Feel good?”
“Yes,” I moan. Pretty sure it came out more like “fshsuhhss“ though.
”Is it okay with you if I fuck you hard and fast?”
Jesus Christ. This man. “Please do.”
“Such good manners.”
I’m getting restless. “Enough talk. Fuck me, Logan.”
He tears the condom open. “Are you wet enough for me?”
“Yes,” I pant.
His arm wraps around me and hoists me up onto my toes before pushing
into me.
The angle is everything. Me up on my toes allows him to bury himself in
me until he is balls deep.
Then he moves. It is hard and fast as promised. His fingers clench around
my waist as he pushes himself in and out of me. “Oh, Sawyer. Oh. You are
so fucking tight around me. I’m not going to last long.”
“Give me a second to get there.” As amazing as this feels, I know myself
well enough to know it will not happen unless I get some clit stimulation.
He slows a little and I push back against him just enough to give my hand
some room to find my clit. I started rubbing it hard and combined with
Logan pounding into me gets me there quick.
“Almost there,” I tell him. He picks up the pace again and I rub the shit
out of my clit until we both come.
As we both come down from the ecstasy of our respective orgasms, this
time, it’s Logan collapsing in a heap, resting his weight on me. We lay half
on my countertop for a bit.
I try, and fail to stay out of my own head, but I’ve never had sex this
good. It hasn’t been bad in the past, but nothing like this. And usually, with
someone new, it takes a minute for us to find our footing. But not with
Logan. Logan and I... we fit. We work either through some magical
chemistry or because we are actually listening and responding to each other
in bed. I promise myself not to read too much into that thought. We have
been honest about our attraction to each other. I can safely say I have never
been as attracted to someone as I am to Logan. So it makes sense that the
sex is off the charts as well.
“Are you okay?” Logan asks, standing up and pulling out of me.
“Never better. But it’s way past my bedtime and my alarm is going off in
a few short hours.”
“Oh,” his eyes shift towards the door. “Do you want me to…”
Oh. No. Don’t be desperate, Sawyer. “You are welcome to stay, but don’t
have to. It’s up to you.
He wraps his arms around and pulls me to him. “I’ll stay then. You and
your insatiable appetite for my cock wore me out.”
I push him off of me, but as I walk back towards my bedroom, I can’t
keep the grin off of my face.
IT FEELS LIKE IT is still the middle of the night when my alarm goes off.
Fuck. Today is going to be rough.
But so, so worth it.
I move to turn my alarm off before it wakes Logan that I don’t even take
a minute to appreciate waking up next to him. Logan moves next to me and
I realize I never asked him if he had to be anywhere early this morning.
“What time is it?” he asks groggily.
“Seven,” I respond. Normally I get up an hour earlier to workout and eat
breakfast, but when we were going to sleep well after midnight, it seemed
most prudent to get some extra sleep. “Do you need to be anywhere soon?”
“No, not until ten,” he says sleepily.
Like me, he is working on less than five hours of sleep, has morning
breath, and smells like sex. But it’s working for him. He wears it well. “Go
back to sleep. I’ll set an alarm on your phone for you. What’s your
passcode?” He tells me and I set it. He rolls over and goes back to sleep.
I get in the shower and rinse off. As much as I don’t want to wash away
last night, I shouldn’t smell like sex all day. Besides, if I can smell Logan
on me, I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else today.
When I come out of the shower, Logan seems to be back asleep, so I drop
my towel and quietly try to find clothes.
“I could get used to this.”
“Shit.” I jump, clutching at my chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He half sits up in bed, the sheet dropping to around his waist as he tucks
one arm behind his head. It reminds me of the first time we met when he
pulled up beside me and I thought he looked like he was in a photoshoot for
some masculine shit. This photoshoot would be for something a little more
risque but would be just as drool-worthy seeing as though he has only a
sheet covering his bottom half. His laugh breaks me from my trip down
memory lane. “Can you please jump some more while naked? I need to take
a mental snapshot of your tits bouncing. I wasn’t prepared.”
I throw whatever is in my hand at him.
He holds it up. It’s my bra. Oops.
”Is this supposed to be a punishment?” He wraps it around his face and
lays back down.
I laugh and turn around to get dressed, locating a different bra in my
dresser.
Logan sits back up. “Go back to sleep,” I tell him. “Seriously. There is no
reason to get up this early if you don’t have to. Make sure you lock the door
behind you. Take whatever food you want.”
“Okay. Will do. Thanks. I’m beat. You tired me out, Sawyer.”
I don’t know what it is, but I love hearing my name on his lips.
“You must be getting old.” He throws my bra back at me. “I gotta go.” I
hesitate. I want to kiss him goodbye, but this is a fuck buddies thing. Right?
Fuck buddies don’t kiss each other goodbye. Do they?
“I can see those wheels turning. Come here.”
I walk over to the bed. He yanks on my hand, pulling me down on top of
him. He’s hard, and he grinds into me.
I groan. “Don’t start this. I’m still new. I can’t be late.”
“Sorry. Sorry. I wanted to kiss you goodbye and got carried away.”
Logan reaches up and tangles his hands in my hair, pulling my lips down
to his. It’s a slow, sweet kiss, one in complete opposition to the hard and
fast fucking we did last night. Completely different, but leaves me
breathless, too.
Breaking the kiss, I turn so not to let him see the effects he has on me.
Before I can get away, though, he smacks my ass. Turning back, I attempt
to scowl at him, and he winks at me before falling back into bed.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
“WHAT AM I DOING? What am I doing? What am I doing?” I ask myself
repeatedly as I pull into the parking lot of the Visitor Center. This feels a
little too needy. I just saw her a couple of hours ago. Don’t be a dick, I
remind myself. You are here because you are doing her a favor, not because
you can’t stop thinking about her.
Unless something has changed, I know this is where Sawyer is supposed
to be working today. She mentioned it last night because it’s not her
favorite.
Last night.
I don’t have any words for last night.
Amazing sounds too cliche.
Fucking awesome sounds to bro-ish.
Life-changing sounds like I should check if I still have balls.
It. Was. Great. Better than great. The fuck if I know. I’m not a writer. It
was perfect. Sawyer is perfect.
She is turning me into a fucking horndog, though. The last time we had
sex was only nine hours ago and already I’m trying to figure out when I get
her alone again. Also, I may have jerked off in her bed this morning,
replaying last night in my head. I couldn’t help it. I woke up hard as hell
because I could smell her everywhere. And when she wasn’t there, I had to
take matters into my own hands. Literally. I cleaned up though. I’m not a
monster.
That’s not what this is about right now. I’m not visiting her at work to
sneak in a bit of afternoon delight, or mid-morning delight, or whatever you
want to call it. I’m here because when I was leaving her place this morning,
I noticed she left her lunch on the counter. So, I’m bringing it to her.
I don’t want it to come off as a boyfriend move though, because I’m not.
As perfect as last night was, it was only sex, and this is not a relationship.
So dropping off her lunch is not a boyfriend move. I would do it for any of
my friends. She just happens to be the friend I’m fucking.
I head in through the doors of the Visitor Center and fortunately for
Sawyer, it’s a little dead. Hopefully, she isn’t having too rough of a day. I
should feel bad for keeping her up late, but I don’t. Later, I will make it up
to her. I greet a couple of people by name. Running an adventure tour
company in the area means I’m in the park often and friendly with a lot of
the park staff.
Sawyer is not helping anyone, and she doesn’t see me coming as I walk
up to her as she appears lost in thought, staring out a window.
I drop her lunch bag on the counter separating us. “Thinking of me?”
She does a bit of a double-take and then blushes. Sawyer’s blushes kill
me. I don’t know how a woman as gorgeous and as confident as her can
blush so often, but I hope she never stops.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, but before I can answer, her
attention snags on the lunch bag I drop on the counter. Seizing it off the
counter, she exclaims, “Oh, you are my hero!”
I like the sound of that. “It’s not a big deal at all. I saw it on the counter
and know how you are about missing meals...and I didn’t want any of your
coworkers taking the brunt of it today when you got hangry.”
She laughs and reaches over to slap my chest. “I would call you an
asshole, but it’s all true, so what can I do? Anyway, thank you. You made
my day much better.”
I smile at her because what else is there to do? I can’t stop smiling
around Sawyer. I’ve always been a cheerful person, but when she is around,
I’m cheesing non-stop.
She looks a little nervous. Glancing around the room, she drops her
voice. “And thank you for last night. It was...decent?”
My mouth drops open, but before I can say anything, she bursts out
laughing, cackling at her joke, pretty damn proud of herself.
“I’ll show you how decent I can be.”
She cocks her head to the side. “What does that even mean?”
“No idea,” I admit.
Back to us staring at each other like two idiots.
I need to ask her. I need to make sure. “Umm, about last night. It was
better than decent.” I pause and wink at her. She flushes and I mentally fist
pump. “But, I want to make sure you are still good with the...” I drop my
voice to make sure no one else can hear us, “fuck buddies thing. You are
awesome and I never want to hurt you, and I can’t do a relationship...but I
had a great time last night.” Shit. Ramble-fest.
I search her face for any sign of how she is feeling. About this. About us.
“Thanks for checking in. It’s sweet of you. But, I’m good with our
current set-up. In all sincerity, last night was great.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Then, let’s do it again. Want to come to
my place tonight? Brady won’t be home.”
“Yes, but can we start a little earlier? I’m afraid I’m going to crash.”
“Of course. Come over at seven. I’ll get dinner for us.”
“See you then.”
I want to kiss her goodbye, but it’s not appropriate while she is working,
so I stare at her for a second, hoping it conveys what I want to do to her and
doesn’t come off creepy. Fingers crossed.
AFTER MY SECOND AND final tour of the day, I stop by the grocery
store. Brady does the grocery shopping for us and I tend to do the cooking.
Now that I think about it, I almost never go to the grocery store, so it was
dumb luck Brady was busy that week and asked me to do it for him. Must
have been fate.
Wait. What? I shake my head at myself. No, not fate. If I had not met
Sawyer that day, then I would have met her a bunch of other times, seeing
as we have become intertwined in each other’s lives as of late. I need to
stop thinking shit like that. It won’t end well for anyone.
I’m dumping the grocery bags in the back of my truck when I realize I’m
parked in the same spot as I was when I met Sawyer. Without thinking, I
take a couple of steps back, snap a photo and text it to her.
Logan: Just hanging out in the parking lot, waiting for you to hit on me
again.
Sawyer: Have you suffered a head injury? I didn’t hit on you.
Logan: Right, right, but you checked me out.
She doesn’t answer me back immediately, so I put my phone in my
pocket, push the cart back over to the corral, and hop in my truck. My
phone buzzes again.
Sawyer: When haven’t I checked you out?
I’m already getting a semi thinking about Sawyer thinking about me.
Logan: All right, let’s keep it clean.
Sawyer: This qualifies as talking dirty? If so, I’m going to record you
tonight so you can hear the things you say. You will be clutching your
pearls when I play it back to you.
Logan: You like it.
Sawyer: I most certainly do.
Sawyer: I better get back to work. Still on for seven?
I send her a photo of my grocery bags.
Logan: Got everything we need for dinner.
Sawyer: Oohhh...what’s on the menu?
Sawyer: And you better not say “you covered in whip cream” or some
shit.
Fuck, I had already started typing something scarily similar.
Logan: Nope, but heading back into the store to pick up something I
forgot. Winky face emoji.
Sawyer: I’m lactose intolerant.
Logan: Fuck, seriously?
Sawyer: No. See you at seven.
This girl. Thinking back through all the women I have been with relationships or otherwise - and I can’t think of one who I could shoot the
shit with as easily as Sawyer. One thing I like about her is there is never any
guessing with her. We both made our attraction to each other known pretty
early on. When I piss her off or upset her, she lets me know. It’s so easy.
Feels natural.
I know one fuck buddy rarely makes dinner for the other fuck buddy. I’m
not an idiot. But we are friends, so it doesn’t have to just be about sex. A lot
of it will be about sex. But we can also have fun together and enjoy each
other’s company. Which will lead to more sex. Right?
THE DOORBELL RINGS RIGHT as I am finishing up. Perfect timing. I’m
more than comfortable in the kitchen, as I do almost all the cooking for
Brady and me, but there are days when my timing can be way off. Today is
not one of them.
Rushing to the front of my house, I throw open the front door. Is it too
late to act like I have a little more chill? Probably. Besides, Sawyer would
call me on it, so what would be the point? “Hey, you.”
“Hi.”
Leaning against the door, I gesture to the house. “Come on in.”
Sawyer holds up a six-pack of beer in one hand and a bag in the other. “I
come bearing gifts.” She walks into the house and I close the door behind
her, taking the opportunity to complete a full examination of her body. I
can’t wait to get her out of her clothes. She is dressed comfortably in yoga
pants and a crew neck sweatshirt. Yoga pants are the best. Women seem to
be comfortable in them and they leave nothing to the imagination. Win,
win.
She gasps and I assume she caught me blatantly staring at her ass. But
not this time, as she is staring into my house. “I don’t want to admit it, but I
was kind of expecting this to be “decorated” like a frat house.” She shrugs
her shoulders as if to say, “you would think the same.”
I let out a laugh. “If you had come over about two-ish years ago, you
would have been spot on.” I gesture towards the large circular, wooden
dining table. “That was previously a beer pong table and there was a lot of
black leather.”
“Posters of naked chicks on cars?” she asks.
“Only in Brady’s room,” I tell her.
She laughs. “Seriously though, is it you or Brady with the good taste and
serious decorating skills?”
I feel a burst of pride. For one, owning our own house in it of itself is no
small feat. And yeah, we put a lot of hard work into it. “It’s more my ideas
and Brady’s skills. I can’t do shit, but Brady can, for the most part, fix or
build anything. So I come up with an idea or design it and Brady executes
it. Then, I pick out all the paint colors and stuff. The house was pretty gross
when we moved it. Other than cleaning it, we didn’t do too much at first.
Then, Wilder came over and told us to stop living like children. So we made
a plan and started working on it.”
Sawyer’s jaw drops as she walks around the room. “How did I not know
this? Oh my god. You two are like a HGTV fan’s wet dream. Seriously, if
you ever get sick of Wild Times, start an Instagram account of you
designing and him building - it will be pandemonium.”
I shake my head at her ridiculousness, but I like that she likes what we
have created here.
“In all seriousness, Logan, you have a beautiful home, and you should be
proud of it.” She squeezes my arm as she walks by me to go into the
kitchen.
Not thinking, not reacting, I reach for her, wrapping an arm around her
waist and pulling her back to me. “Hey,” I say quietly and give her a peck
on the lips.
She gives me a peck back. “Hey.” She pauses, “Let me put this stuff
down and then I can give you a proper hello.”
“Sorry. Here, give them to me.” She hands them off to me and we head
into the kitchen. “What’s in the bag?”
“Those brownies you like,” she responds. She says it so casually, like it’s
no big deal, but it is a big deal. To me anyway. In the short time we have
known each other, Sawyer has made a lot of desserts and they are all
beyond delicious. But, the brownies she makes are other worldly. That she
remembers and somehow found time to make them for me means a lot.
“When did you have time to make them?”
“After work. I was exhausted, so I whipped them up and while they
baked I did a quick workout to get a little energy.” She shrugs as if to say,
no big deal.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
And I know she means it. And not just because we are hooking up. She is
this kind and considerate with everyone. She likes taking care of people and
making them feel special. The only time I ever see her give anyone attitude
of any kind is when she or someone else is treated shitty - like the day we
met. She has no problem standing up for herself and taking charge. Her
goodness and confidence are turn-ons.
“Dinner’s ready,” I tell her. Plating our food, I bring it over to the table.
Over dinner, I tell her more about the house and our process to change it
from the dump it was to what it is today. She asks lots of questions and even
asks for my opinion on a couple of ideas she has for her new townhouse. As
always with us, conversation flows easily and I find I genuinely enjoy
hanging out with her. I can’t wait to get to the sexy time stuff as well, but
just hanging out with Sawyer is pretty great, too.
“Where is Brady? Hot date?” Sawyer lifts her head off of my chest. After
finishing dinner and cleaning up (Sawyer insisted she would since I
cooked), we are laying on the couch, not watching a movie that I turned on.
I have been using the opportunity to slide my hand under her shirt and am
running my fingers up and down her back. She has slipped her hand under
the front of my shirt and is resting her hand on my chest. It’s at once both
comforting and turning me on.
“No,” I say, laughing at her question. “He headed home to San Diego for
a few nights. His parents, my aunt and uncle, are in town and he hasn’t seen
them for a while.”
“Why are you laughing? Is it so crazy that Brady would have a date?”
“Honestly, yes. Well, not crazy, just not likely. He hardly dates or even
hooks up. I don’t actually know if that is true, but he and I spend a lot of
time together, so I think I would know.”
“Makes sense, but I wonder why he doesn’t date. He’s a great guy, and
he’s cute.”
I hesitate for a moment, choosing my words. “I feel like a dick saying
this, but it might be the beard. Plus, he’s particular about everything.”
“I know what you mean about his beard. It’s a lot. He’s still a goodlooking guy, but I think it would take a certain woman to take that beard on.
Plus, he’s quiet. He’s been nothing but nice to me, but of all you guys, he’s
been the most difficult to get to know. He can come off a little standoffish.”
“He likes you. He’s been giving me shit about you since the day I got the
flat. It took Denver about thirty seconds to send out a group text about
you.”
She laughs and I decide I want to make her laugh as much as possible. I
love the sound. “That’s not surprising at all. Denver and Brady are a bit of
opposites, huh?”
“Yep. Denver’s like a dog, following you around, humping your leg.”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It seems like something Denver would do.”
“Fair enough.”
I sit up with a start, realizing Sawyer and I must have fallen asleep on the
couch. She is still passed out next to me and it is pushing midnight. I try to
get off the couch without waking her, but no such luck.
“What time is it?” she asks groggily.
“Almost midnight.”
She sits all the way up on the couch. “Shit. I’m sorry I fell asleep and
ruined the night.”
“You ruined nothing. Besides, I fell asleep too.”
“I better go, though.”
I take her hand and pull her up and into a hug. “No, stay over. I don’t
want you driving home now.”
“Okay,” she agrees, yawning.
I show her the bathroom and find her a new toothbrush. While she uses
my bathroom, I head over to Brady’s and quickly use it. Then, back in my
bedroom, I strip down to my boxer briefs and hop into bed.
Sawyer comes in a minute later and strips down to her bra and
underwear. I know she isn’t doing a sexy strip tease, but it’s still fucking
hot. She climbs under the covers and scoots over to mimic the position we
were in on the couch. She is the little spoon to my big.
I pull her close and whisper in her ear, “Ignore my boner. It’s my
permanent state of being around you.”
She lets out a giggle. “Is it possible to be turned on and grossed out at the
same time? Is there something wrong with me?”
I press a kiss to her temple. “There is definitely something wrong with
you, Sawyer. But, whatever it is, I like it. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-One
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
“HMMMMMMM.” SHIT. DID I moan out loud? I hear a giggle and am
forced to open my eyes, determining my moan was prompted not by a
dream, but by a beautiful woman slowly kissing her way down my body. “I
could get used to waking up like this. Take your tits out.” I reach for her
bra, but she swats my hand away.
“Nope, I’m in charge now. I figured you wouldn’t mind me waking you
up like this, seeing as you were humping my ass while you were sleeping.”
Is that true?
Oops.
Kinda sounds like me. “Sorry, I can’t seem to help myself around you.” I
give her my best apologetic face, the one she has called me out on several
times.
“Don’t be sorry, you just got me going, and I didn’t want to wait until
you woke up.”
“Never think twice about waking me up like this. Please continue.” I
gesture towards my dick.
Sawyer laughs and palms me. Fuck. She makes me feel like a teenager
ready to shoot his load just from being near a pretty girl. I don’t consider
myself a sex god or anything, but I’m better than this.
She throws one leg over me so she is now sitting on me, straddling me.
She grinds into me and I can feel her wet heat on me. I took her like this the
other night and I love when I can see all of her. Reaching behind herself,
she unclasps her bra and tosses it to the side. I can’t help myself. I pull her
down closer to me so I can touch her breasts, but she swats my hands away
and then holds them down, taking total control.
I let her have control, keeping my hands in place where she is holding
them over my head, but straining my neck to get my mouth closer to her
tits. She moves up, keeping them out of reach. She lets out a low laugh,
enjoying how she is tormenting me. Fuck…she’s rubbing herself up and
down my cock and it feels...it feels so good.
Sawyer slides further down my legs and pulls my underwear down as she
goes. My cock pops out, bobbing toward my stomach before standing at full
attention. Sawyer straddles one of my legs and fists me, her other hand
finding my balls. Her hand on my cock jerks me once, and then she opens
her mouth and gives me a lick.
My hips shoot off the bed and I try, and fail, not to thrust into her mouth.
“Sorry. Jesus. Fuck. That feels good.”
I need to get control so I don’t wrap my hand around her hair and start
fucking her mouth. I put my hands behind my head so I’m not tempted.
Why is everything so good with her?
With one hand around the base of me, Sawyer sucks and pumps me,
alternating between teasing me with a slow, languid pace and jerking me
hard.
Pulling off of me, she uses her tongue to swirl around the tip of my cock
for a moment before taking me to the back of her throat. I watch her dark
brown hair bobbing up and down on me, taking me deeply each time.
“Sawyer,” I growl as my legs start to tighten up. When words fail me, I
give her shoulder a gentle push, trying to indicate I’m about to come. She
pulls off of me at the last second and jerks me over the edge until streams of
cum land on my abs.
Still panting, I scoot up against the headboard and pull her towards me,
taking care not to drag her through the mess on my stomach. Gripping the
sides of her face, I pull her in for a soft kiss. I open my mouth and my
tongue darts against the seam of her lips. She parts her lips and deepens the
kiss, our tongues crashing together.
I’m not sure when I’m ever going to have enough of this girl.
Pulling back, I hop off of the bed, a hand going to my stomach, trying not
to let the cum make an even bigger mess. I take off for the bathroom while
yelling, “Give me one minute and it’s your turn!”
When I’m done cleaning up in the bathroom, I walk back into the
bedroom to find Sawyer underneath the covers. I pull the blanket off,
eliciting a squeal from her. I wrap it around myself, and jump back on top
of her, covering her with my body and the blanket. She is laughing as she
half-heartedly pushes me off.
Pinning her down, I suck one of her nipples into my mouth while my
hand drifts further down.
Sawyer stops my forward momentum by placing her palm on my chest.
“Wait. Stop.”
I freeze and shift my weight off of her. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I, uh, I think I’m going to get my period today, so I don’t want your
mouth anywhere near…” she uses her hand to motion below her waist.
Oh, thank god. I thought I had fucked up. “Okay. Do you want me to use
my fingers? I don’t care if they get, uh, ya know...bloody?” I try not to
make a face, but I think I do.
Sawyer bursts out laughing, “Oh my god, you should see your face.”
I wince. “Sorry. Seriously, I wasn’t cringing at the idea of touching
blood, but I felt weird saying bloody there. I don’t know. Maybe we should
add it to our list of words we can’t say.”
“You can add it to your list, but bloody doesn’t bother me. Probably
because I’m a girl and I deal with it a lot more than you.”
“Probably. Regardless, my offer still stands.”
She pulls me back down to her and kisses me. “Thank you for the offer,
but I think I’m good for now.”
“Okay,” I say. “Then how about a different offer for now?” Sawyer
squints at me and purses her lips. I know what she is thinking, that I’m
going to put butt stuff on the table. I hope she lets me near her ass at some
point, but I’m not a douche. This is not the time. “My offer is to make you
breakfast.” Her face reddens and I can’t help but laugh. “What did you
think I was going to offer?”
“Nothing!” She jumps out of bed and starts pulling her clothes on. I take
a minute because I like everything about the girl, especially making her
blush. Now, I’m going to see how many times I can make her blush today.
Challenge accepted.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Two
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
LOGAN WHIPS US UP a quick, but yummy breakfast of last night’s
leftovers topped with a couple of eggs over easy. “Mmmmm. This is
delicious. How did I not know you are such a great cook?”
“I don’t know about that. I think you are easy to please.”
“I think I’m high maintenance with what I will eat and not eat.
Fortunately, we seem to eat pretty similarly, so it just seems like I’m easy.”
“You are easy, but it has nothing to do with food.” He tries to say it with
a straight face but fails.
“I can’t take you.”
“Liar. You love it.”
Rolling my eyes, I go back to eating for a minute. I don’t want to seem
too eager, so I make an attempt at nonchalance. “What do the next couple of
days look like for you?”
Logan puts down his fork and picks up his phone off of the table.
“Well…” he says as he scrolls, “today is wide open, but I’m booked solid
for the next five days.” He puts his phone down. “There is a company
coming into town for a conference and they take all our bookings for their
employees. It’s awesome because they pay for every single spot in all of our
offerings, but I’m never sure how many people are ever going to show up.”
“Nice. What a good feeling - to be booked out for the week.”
“Yeah, no complaints. What’s the next week like for you?”
“I’m free today too. Tomorrow, Mae and I are going furniture shopping. I
moved here with nothing, so I have been slowly replacing the furniture left
behind by the last renters. Then, I kind of have a busy week too - normal
work hours, but Mae and I are launching a new program this week, so there
is the usual getting prepared type of stuff to do.”
“What’s the program about?”
“Cacti.”
“Wow, sounds like it could get crazy.”
Shaking my head, I throw a tiny piece of egg at him. The shock on his
face when l land a direct hit to his nose is too much for me. I try to hold it
in, but I’m laughing so hard I snort. Once again.
“I don’t know why, but those snorts kill me.”
“Because they’re gross.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Not gross. Sexy.” He does a little eyebrow
raise as if to emphasize his point. I choose to ignore his comment. He winks
at me, but lets it go. “So, no plans today?”
“Correct.”
“Can I plan something for us?”
“Yes, please.”
“Perfect.” He stands up and picks up his dishes. “Finish eating while I
shower. Then we will head to your house so you can get changed.”
I motion for him to stop what he is doing. “Leave it. I’ll do it while you
shower.”
He pauses. “You cleaned up last night.”
I get up and walk over to him, taking the dishes out of his hands and
kissing him on the lips. “Yes, and you made dinner. You once again made
me a delicious meal this morning, so it’s the least I can do.” I smack his ass.
“Get going.”
He cranes his neck to look back at me over his shoulder. “We’ll talk more
about this later, but you are welcome to spank me anytime.”
He gestures, indicating he wants me to reciprocate the notion. I laugh. “If
you want to spank me, you’re going to have to earn it.”
His face lights up. “On it.” Turning on his heel, he heads off to get ready.
A few hours later, we are finishing up a four-ish mile hike. It was the
perfect hike for today, flat, but scenic. Not too challenging. While we both
have the day off, it is a weekday, so the park isn’t too busy. As always with
Logan, he entertained me non-stop, both from his tour guide skills and then
as himself.
I don’t know what to make of us. This isn’t how fuck buddies act. I may
normally be more of a relationship girl, but I know that much. This feels
very much like a relationship. The past couple of days have been too
perfect, to where it makes me wary of all of this. He has been clear he
doesn’t do relationships, but he can’t be unaware that this is basically a
relationship. Fuck buddies don’t have sleepovers and make each other
breakfast and stop by each other’s work and hang out together all day. Not
even close.
Thinking back through our times together from the past few days, I
realize it is always him. Logan has always been the one to initiate any
activity, taking him and me from fuck buddies to whatever the next level is.
I don’t know what to do with this thought. I’m walking over to Logan’s
truck to get the food I packed so we could enjoy a late lunch. He is going to
the bathroom and is going to meet me over where we found a picnic table.
Now, I feel weird with all these thoughts firing through my brain. I’m a
horrible liar and the worst actor. I don’t even know how to be normal now.
What should I do? Should I say something to him?
What do I even want? I should figure that out before I open my mouth.
Well...I want him. There’s no question there.
Do I want more than that? Yes. No question. But it’s not like Logan and I
would even work long-term. I’ve never been the girl guys go after, and if I
end up dating a guy, I’m never the end goal. All of my relationships have
ended because the guy I was dating upgraded in some way.
That sounds awful. I don’t have a horrible opinion of myself, but I also
take pride in not being delusional. I know that I’m not that girl. The hot
one. The beautiful one. The one a guy sees at a party or a bar and knows he
has to talk to. I’m the girl guys notice after the hot one has shot them down.
The consolation prize.
That sounds even worse. Even in my head, I can hear how shitty and selfloathing those thoughts sound. I know I’m a catch, but I’m not attracting
attention with my looks, more because of my personality. Fuck. I can’t even
describe it to myself without sounding pathetic and self-hating. I don’t hate
the way I look, but I am a realist, basing these ideas on the data I have
collected over the years.
So as much as I want a relationship with Logan, I’m not end-game
material for him. But, I like him. A lot. So I am going to enjoy every minute
of this while it lasts. Now, I just have to act normal. No problem. Easy
peasy.
“Hey.”
“Can we talk?” Fuck. I didn’t even last two seconds. What the hell is
wrong with me?
“Sure. You good?” Logan takes the bag of food from my hands and puts
it next to him on the picnic table. Using my hand, he tugs me down next to
him.
I readjust myself so I am straddling the picnic bench and facing him.
“Yeah...the past few days have been great -”
“Oh shit. Are you ending this?”
Is he sad? Disappointed?
“No! No.” He’s giving me this weird half-smile. “I can’t tell if you are
kidding or not, so let me say this first. I’m having so much fun with you and
the sex is obviously awesome.” I tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
“Obviously.”
I swat at his arm. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
He takes my hand. “Sorry, Sawyer. Please continue.”
“I have been thinking, this,” I gesture back and forth between us,
“doesn’t feel like we are just fuck buddies to me.” There I said it.
Then silence. My words sit out there for a few seconds. Then a few more.
He still has my hand, but he isn’t meeting my eyes. I want to pull my hand
back and run away, but I can’t.
Finally, he speaks. “Well, I don’t think of you just as a fuck buddy.” He
pauses and bites his lip, as if searching for the right words.
What does he think of me as then? Has he changed his mind? Do I want
him to change his mind about relationships? Yes, yes, I do. Is it possible
Logan sees me as more? Is there a future for us?
“Fuck buddies is a ridiculous notion for us because before we started
anything I already thought of you as much more.” My pulse quickens. “I
don’t care what you call it - friends with benefits? I don’t care how we label
it. We were already friends and no matter what, I will always think of you
as a friend. The sex is a bonus.” He winks at me and nudges me with his
elbow. “A super fantastic bonus that I hope doesn’t end anytime soon.”
Oh.
Ouch.
That stings.
Read that one wrong.
Fuck.
Why do I do this to myself?
I’m working hard to keep my face neutral. If I attempt to smile, it will be
the fakest thing ever. I try to keep my voice from breaking. “Agreed.” Then,
I busy myself with pulling out the food I packed us. When it is all set up, I
excuse myself to go use an outhouse. I’d rather pee outside than use one of
those and I have no actual plans to use it, but I need to get away for a
second to gather myself.
Thankfully, there is no line. I go in, lock the door, and then stand in the
middle of the outhouse, simultaneously trying to not breathe in the stank
while filtering through the emotions clouding my head.
I’m so confused. I’m confused about myself and my feelings. I’m
confused with Logan and how his actions don’t line up with what he is
saying. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?
I pace back and forth. This doesn’t have to change things. This shouldn’t
change anything. I knew he didn’t want a relationship, and I didn’t expect
that to change. So why then did his words hurt so much? Maybe because
being with him is so easy and fun. Maybe because the sex is so much better
than it ever has been with anyone else. Maybe because I just like being with
him. Maybe because a small part of me thought I could be the girl to change
him.
It’s such a fucking dumb idea and I’m embarrassed I even thought it.
I have a choice here. I can either end things with him and try to just be
friends. Or, I can continue what we are doing - have all the fun and all the
sex - but know, really and truly know, it will never be more than that.
When I put it like that, it’s such a simple choice. I choose fun and sex. I
choose Logan. This will end at some point and I know it will hurt. I’m not
oblivious to it. However, it will hurt even if it ends now, so I might as well
have all the fun and the sex before then.
Feeling much better, I let myself out of the outhouse, gulp down the fresh
air, and head back over to Logan. The short walk gives me time to get my
shit together.
I walk back up to the table and Logan turns at the sound of my voice.
“Hey.” He studies my face a little too hard, and it’s clear he saw right
through me being okay.
“You didn’t have to wait to eat,” I say.
Logan shrugs his shoulders. “No big deal. I would rather eat with you.
Or...” He leans in and nips at my ear, “Eat you. But, since that is off the
table for now, I guess we should enjoy this beautiful picnic you made us.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I threw it together in a few minutes.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Let’s eat.” I can’t decide if I like his attempts to flatter me or not. They
might be pity.
We eat in silence for a bit before Logan says, “While you were in the
bathroom, I realized I never explained why I don’t do relationships.” This is
not what I was expecting him to say. He seems a little nervous. Not a look I
have witnessed on the ever confident Logan McGuire before. “Can I tell
you about it?”
I nod my head and turn my body to give him my full attention. I have
been chomping at the bit to know this story. I haven’t asked Mae, though,
because if I learn information about Logan, I want it to come from him.
Logan tells me the story of his college girlfriend, Kirsty. His first love,
his only love. Ever the storyteller, his words make me feel all the feels - the
excitement, the joy, and then the eventual pain. His heartbreak allows me to
better understand his position on relationships - even if I don’t agree with
it.
When he finishes, he shrugs his shoulders as if to say, “no big deal.” I
don’t fall for it. His heartbreak seems to define him, whether he
acknowledges it, or not. However, I know me saying that will do nothing to
change it. So, I don’t. I say nothing. Instead, I stand up and take his hand to
pull him up next to me. He allows me to do so, and then I wrap my arms
around his waist and bury my face in his neck. It takes him a moment
before he relaxes. Then I dare speak. “I understand.”
I do. Understand, that is. I don’t agree, but it’s not up to me. I understand
not wanting to put yourself out there after heartbreak. I have dated, but
never been in love and even then it still hurt when it ended. He thought he
and Kirsty were going to be married and have a family - together forever.
Getting over that can’t be easy. Although it begs the question, is it the
heartbreak he can’t get past, or is he not over Kirsty?
Not the time, I tell myself.
Upon hearing my words, he wraps his arms around me tighter and
nuzzles my temple with his chin. We stand wrapped up in each other for a
long time before both of our phones buzz. We ignore them at first and
continue to hold each other. But, after a minute of non-stop buzzing, I point
out we should make sure everything is okay. It is. An invitation from Wilder
to come to his house tonight. All subsequent texts are rsvp’s and figuring
out what everyone will bring.
Logan and I finish our food, pack up, and he drops me off at home.
Later, as I am showering, I realize this will be the first time hanging out
with our friends since we started hooking up and are now fuck buddies or
friends with benefits or whatever the hell you want to call it. I wonder if it
will be weird.
I pick up Mae before heading over to Wilder’s. As soon as the car door
slams, she turns to me. “We only have about ten minutes. Spill it.”
I laugh. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
I laugh nervously. I don’t know what to say. I have had girl friends before
but never one like Mae. I never gossiped about guys much and I’m not sure
what is normal to share and what is TMI. “I don’t know what to say,” I
admit. “I don’t know what kind of information you want.”
“Sawyer. There is no right or wrong thing to say. I’m excited about you
and Logan and whatever you want to tell me works. If you want to tell me
to shut the fuck up and mind my own business—that works, too. I’ll be
disappointed, but it is well within your rights.”
It’s so easy with Mae, so straightforward. If she’s annoyed, pissed, happy,
sad, or whatever, she tells me. No guessing games. I never have to try with
her, I just get to be me. It’s the same with Logan. It’s why, even after only a
few days of hooking up, it feels so right with him.
This feeling of ease goes even beyond Logan and Mae. It’s also with the
rest of our friends. Our, not their. I feel like part of the group now. I
wouldn’t hesitate to call any of them if I needed anything or to hang out. At
work, I feel it as well. Joshua Tree is the third national park I have worked
at, fourth if you count internships and I have never settled into a place this
easily. I do not know whether it is my coworkers, my boss, the park itself,
or a crazy mix of it all. Either way, I have this feeling of contentment. Of
being at peace. Of being right. It’s a foreign feeling to me, especially having
grown up in a family where I always felt like an outsider. I never fit. And
now, I do. And I’m happy.
I think that’s why even though things aren’t perfect with Logan, I’m
content with what we have, because everything else in my life feels so
right.
With Mae here, asking me about Logan, I want to tell her the entire story,
but I’m afraid if I start talking, I won’t stop. I don’t seem to have an off
button where he is concerned.
“How about if you ask a question and I answer?”
She shifts in her seat and faces me. “Oh perfect. Quick. Pull into this
parking lot,” she says, pointing to a strip mall on our right.
I do as she says. Once I put my car in park, I turn and give her my full
attention.
Mae claps her hands together. “Let’s do a lightning round. Give me short
answers. If you don’t want to answer, say pass.” I nod my head, already
laughing. Half from nervousness and half from her absurdity.
“Have you had sex?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Don’t know, three or four?”
“Was it good?”
I flush. “Yes.”
”Is he a generous lover?”
I make a face. “Who the fuck talks like that?”
Mae bursts out laughing. “Just making sure you are paying attention.”
“He is though,” I say. “Once I showed him what I like, he made sure I got
off - a lot.”
She makes a disgusted face. “This is getting a little too specific. I got a
mental image of Logan in bed.”
“He’s beautiful naked.” I laugh, because now I’m winning at making her
uncomfortable.
Mae shudders. “Logan - and the other guys - are like my brothers. I’m
happy for him, but I don’t want to hear the specifics.”
“I don’t know how anyone could think of Logan like a brother. Just
thinking about him, I get -”
“Allalalallalallal.” Mae covers her ears as I shriek in laughter. Daring to
pull her hands away, she says, “I can see I created a monster with you.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Now I know how to keep you in line.” Mae flips
me off. Laughing, I take the car out of park and we head over to Wilder’s.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Three
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
DRIVING OVER TO WILDER’S, I choose a scenic, out-of-the-way route.
It’s the first time since Sawyer and I started hooking up a few days ago was it only a few days ago? - that I’ve had time to think. Thoughts of
Sawyer have consumed my waking hours, not to mention my dreams. But
even before we were hooking up, I was already consumed by thoughts of
her. If I am being honest, I’ve been done for since our first interaction in the
parking lot of the grocery store.
Now that I’ve had her, been inside of her, drawn moans from her, I’m not
sure how I’ll ever get her out of my system.
Earlier, it was clear how nervous she was to talk to me about what we
are. Defining the relationship, so to speak. I was a dick, playing dumb at
first, explaining the difference between fuck buddies and friends with
benefits. I could tell it hurt her, and while she was in the bathroom, I
wavered between feeling like a shithead for hurting her and getting
defensive because I was clear about no relationships.
By the time she came back from the bathroom, I had settled on not
wanting to cause her any further pain. So, I told her why it’s a no for me
with relationships. I know we have been acting like a lot more than fuck
buddies, and I know it’s my fault. As much as I didn’t want to unearth those
old wounds, I wanted to tell Sawyer so she would understand. So she would
truly understand I will not change. What she and I have now is as far as it is
going to go.
And as uncomfortable as that all was, I think it was good for me to get
everything out in the open. It was good to tell Sawyer about Kirsty. It felt
freeing, a little less burdensome. I’m still a hard no on relationships, but it
had to be discussed. Especially with Sawyer. There were no judgments from
her. She made no demands for me to change and didn’t even try to argue
with me. She listened and understood me. I couldn’t ask for more.
I park my truck on the street outside Wilder’s house and head inside. No
question that Sawyer and I are going to get a lot of shit from everyone. But,
I wonder how much? I’m banking on a lot. I notice Sawyer’s car is outside,
so I hope they haven’t laid into her too hard. Letting myself in the front
door, I make my way to the kitchen, where I can hear voices.
“There he is,” says Wilder, slapping my back while he takes the food I
brought out of my hands. “Thanks for making these,” he says, holding up
the container of Brussels sprouts I brought.
“Hey everyone,” I say, greeting Grey, Brady, Denver, Mae, and Sawyer.
Sawyer. Looking as good as ever. Was it only this morning when I last saw
her naked? It’s been too long. I need to fix that soon. I glance back at her
again. Her face is red, and she seems a little nervous, lips pulled over her
teeth. Oh. Everyone has paused in their efforts to make dinner and is
watching us. I assume to see how we will greet each other.
If I didn’t think it would embarrass the shit out of her, I would attempt a
sloppy kiss right now. I’m willing to bet feeling her up in front of everyone
is off the table as well. Best to keep it simple.
I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. “Hey,” I say
while I lean in to kiss her cheek.
“Hey,” she replies, hugging me back.
I swing her around so her back is to the rest of them and I can now see
them. “Now that you’ve all had your fill, can we please move on?”
As expected, we get a lot of hooting and hollering in response.
When Sawyer pulls back from me, her cheeks are bright red. Turning,
she speaks to Wilder. “Tell me how to help with dinner.”
A couple of hours later, after dinner is finished, and we clean the kitchen,
everyone is outside, circled around the fire. These days, we are a boring
group. Most often, we are here at Wilder’s hanging out, or off on some
adventure together. Unless we decide to venture out to one of the local
breweries, but most of us are past the point where we want to hang out at
bars, and by the end of the day, we don’t want to be around anyone other
than each other. It’s not for everyone, but it works for us.
It’s a beautiful night. The fire is blazing and I have my girl pulled in
close to me.
Wait.
Scratch that.
Not my girl.
My friend.
Sawyer.
Who is a lot of fun and an excellent fuck.
But not my girl.
Either way, it doesn’t get much better than this.
Sawyer’s hand is on my thigh and slowly it is inching upwards. My
breath catches and from the corner of my eye, I can see her lips upturn in
the slightest as she talks to Wilder.
It’s pitch black, save the blazing fire and we have a blanket draped over
us, so I know no one else has a clue.
Fuck.
That makes it even harder.
I mean hotter.
Harder too, though.
Definitely harder.
I can’t figure out what her end game is here. To torture me? To make me
blow a load in my pants?
While I’m not sure which option I prefer, I’m also not against either of
them.
She hasn’t even touched my cock and I am going crazy.
Then she is gone.
Standing up, she addresses the group. “Anyone need anything?” She
gestures towards the house. A chorus of “no’s“ reply to her. Then she
disappears inside.
Am I supposed to follow her? Is she going to finish what she started?
I wait until everyone falls back into the conversation, then saying
nothing, I follow her into the house. Inside the house, she is nowhere to be
found. After a quick check down the hallway, it seems like she is in the
bathroom. So I’ll wait.
A minute later, my phone vibrates.
Sawyer: Are you coming?
Loaded question, Sawyer.
I dump my phone on the counter and walk down the hallway to the
bathroom. I knock once. “Sawyer.”
The door flies open. She grabs my arm, drags me inside, and closes and
locks the door behind me.
Sawyer presses me up against the door before I have time to react.
I pull her tighter against me and kiss her. Our kisses are frenzied as we
pull at each other’s clothes.
“Wait!” she says. “Do you have a condom?”
I reach into my back pocket and toss a couple of condoms down on the
bathroom vanity. My hands find her bare skin under her shirt. “After I was
unprepared the first time, I promise to always have them on me now.”
Satisfied with my answer, she kisses me again and slides her tongue into
my mouth.
“Wait!” This time it is me. “Do you have your period?”
Sawyer shakes her head no. “Didn’t get it yet. I want you though if it’s
okay with you?” Her voice takes an uptick at the end, turning her statement
into a question. Sawyer’s always so confident that I rarely see this side of
her.
“I’m more than good with that.” I kiss her. “But we better make this
quick before any of those shitheads attempt to use this bathroom.”
“Yes, please.” We reach for each other’s clothes, and then a frenzy
follows as we each divest the other of our clothes.
Now naked, I turn Sawyer around so she has her hands on the vanity and
her ass towards me. I whisper in her ear. “Make sure you keep your eyes
open so you can watch what I’m doing to you.” She purrs at that and half
turns to nip at me, but can’t quite do so from how I am holding her in place.
“Are you ready for me?” My hand skims over her ass cheeks, forcing her
legs to part wider as I discover she is soaked. Ready for me then. I slip one
finger into her.
“You don’t have to —”
It’s my turn to cut her off. With one finger still in her, I use my other arm
to pull her against me so I can be sure she hears me. “I’m not scared of a
little blood. I won’t fuck you until you are ready for me.” Then, I slip a
second finger in her and Sawyer lets out a moan as I work my fingers in and
out of her.
“Fuck. Logan. How are your fingers this good?” I push on her back so
she is more bent over the sink, and I see as her hand snakes down in front of
her to touch her clit. Sawyer knows what she needs to get off, and it’s such
a turn-on. Both that she’s aware of her body enough to tell me and confident
enough to do it herself in front of me. “I’m getting close. I want you in me
now.”
Don’t have to tell me twice.
I pull my fingers out of her wet pussy and get the condom on in record
time. She’s watching me in the mirror and rubbing her clit. The sight of that
combined with her perfect tits is almost too much. Thankfully, we are trying
to be quick, because I’m pretty sure I have no chance of lasting.
Sawyer leans over the vanity once again, bracing her arms on either side
of the sink. She stares at me as I find the right angle and push into her. She’s
so wet I slide in to the hilt. The ecstasy on her face has me pulling out of
her almost all the way and slamming back into her. One more time I pull
out, out, out. Then slam back in. She feels amazing, and the mirror is giving
me a view of her tits bouncing that I have not viewed before.
Then we are off. I slam into her again and again as she uses her hand to
rub at her clit. It feels like only moments pass until she once again says,
“I’m close. You there?”
“Yes,” I gasp out. Then we tumble over the edge together.
Once we have each caught our breaths, we clean ourselves up and get
dressed, rifling through the pile of clothes on the ground to each find our
own. We laugh and kiss and I am once again struck by how easy everything
is with Sawyer. It must be because we are friends and we enjoy each other’s
company. I know it isn’t just sex, but it doesn’t have any of the pressures of
a relationship either. For right now, it’s perfect.
Sawyer has a weird look on her face and I worry I was too hard. I may
have lost my mind for a minute there, but I thought she was enjoying
herself. Before I can ask, she says, “You talk about periods more easily than
any other guy I have been with.” Not a question. “Most of the guys I have
dated - or whatever - wouldn’t come near me when I have my period.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I’ll admit it disgusted me when I was younger, but
I fall right between my two sisters in birth order. They have always talked
to each other about periods and stuff, so, as a byproduct, I have never given
it much consideration.” Sawyer contemplates this. “Plus,” I say, nudging
her ribs, “I’m a horny bastard and don’t plan on going without sex for a
while every month. Sounds like you were with some real dumb dumbs
before me.”
Sawyer laughs and I pull her in for one more kiss before we head back
outside.
No one stops their conversation as we take our seats around the fire.
Maybe no one noticed.
A few minutes later, Denver stops mid-sentence from a story he was
telling and sits up straight. “What’s that smell?” Everyone sniffs, but no one
else smells anything. He gives another sniff. “Smells like sex.” Everyone
bursts out laughing and I lunge out of my seat after him, taking care not to
get too close to the fire pit. The little shit is expecting me and gets away
before I can catch him. I chase him around the yard for a minute before
letting him go and taking my seat once again.
Denver takes a sip of his beer as he sits back down, not even breathing
hard. “Is that the best you got? Getting slow in your old age.” What a little
fuckface. I’m like four years older than him. He loves egging people on and
wants me to come after him. So, I do the thing I know will piss him off the
most.
I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s too easy to hit you now. This way, you
won’t know when to expect it, but know it is coming.” I give him my best
evil grin, which admittedly is not all that evil. “From me or Sawyer. I
wouldn’t mess with her either. If you remember how she and I first met, she
was about to lay waste to this poor, innocent man and I had to intervene on
his behalf.”
Sawyer sits up and tugs the blanket off of me. She knows I’m kidding,
but I enjoy seeing that fire in her.
Mae jumps in to Sawyer’s defense, cussing me out, and before I know it,
everyone is vying for a chance to tell me what an asshole I am. I catch
Sawyer’s eye and wink. She gives me a grateful smile. I may be a dumbass
a significant amount of the time, but I know how to steer the conversation
in another direction like a champ.
Later, I’m getting a beer out of the refrigerator when Grey walks into the
kitchen. “So you and your girlfriend seem pretty cozy.”
Grey’s the quiet one of our group of friends, content to let us hotheads
fight it out over something stupid, before stepping in and being the voice of
reason. He speaks only when necessary. If Denver had said this to me, or
even Wilder, I would have dismissed it, but coming from Grey, it makes me
pause.
I forget what I’m searching for in the refrigerator. I stand up and turn to
face him and find him drinking his beer. Grey is anything but casual and a
terrible actor. I choose my words. “Sawyer is not my girlfriend.”
“Does she know that?”
I grit my teeth. “Yes, we have talked about it. Today, in fact.”
Grey nods his head, but says nothing for a moment. “You are hooking up,
you hang out together, hell, you even cuddle by the fire. How is it again that
she isn’t your girlfriend?”
I try to ignore his words, but I can’t. They are the same thoughts that
have been eating at me. Someone can’t be a girlfriend if the other person
doesn’t want them to be, right? “Why do you care?”
Grey’s eyes bore into mine. “Well, I care about you. And since becoming
friends with Sawyer, I now care about her as well. I don’t care whether you
call each other boyfriend and girlfriend or have some other fucking awful
pet names for each other, but I do care if one of you hurts the other. And
right now, your words and your actions aren’t lining up. I think you might
lead her on and you’re a better guy than that.”
Indicating that our conversation is over, Grey dumps his bottle in the
recycling bin and heads back outside.
I’ve got nothing.
Actually, I have a lot of things, but I don’t know which of them are right.
I want to go find Grey and tell him to fuck off. To mind his own damn
business. I also want to find him and ask him to tell me more. To tell me
what to do. How to make this right. I want to find Sawyer and make sure
she is okay. But she seems okay. Fuck Grey. Getting in my head.
Everything was fine before he barged in here.
I need to get out of here. I can’t see him. Or Sawyer. Or the rest of them,
not right now. If anyone gives me shit right now, I might blow.
I grab my phone and keys off the counter and head outside to the group.
“I’m not feeling well. I’m going to take off.” Conversation ceases and
everyone turns to me. I refuse to meet Grey’s eyes. I don’t want to see the
disappointment there.
To Sawyer, I hold up my phone. “I’ll text you later.”
She starts to get up, but I signal for her to stay put. “Better not get too
close.” Like it would matter after what we just did in the bathroom.
She nods. “Hope you feel better.” There is no time to consider if she
believes me or not. I need to get out of here. A chorus of “byes“ and “see
ya’s“ comes from the rest of the group. Turning on my heel, I head around
the side of the house to my truck parked out front.
Once I’m in my truck, I drop my head on my steering wheel. What the
hell am I doing? Why did I let Grey get in my head?
I contemplate this last question as I drive home. My mind wanders for a
few minutes because I keep circling back to that question. It’s a valid
question. And I think Grey questioning me set something off in me because
the last few days have been intense with the hook-ups and the non-stop
hanging out together. I have been fantasizing about Sawyer for weeks, and
in the past few days it all came to fruition. Sawyer and I went from dancing
around each other and our mutual attraction for so many weeks to being
with each other almost non-stop. That would fuck with anyone’s mind.
Add that to the conversation Sawyer and I had earlier in the day, and this
is what you get. Pile that on top of the guilt I feel because I know Sawyer
deserves better. She deserves more than what I will give her. And maybe it
makes me a selfish asshole, but I can justify it to myself because Sawyer is
a big girl and makes up her own mind. If she tells me she is okay with our
current situation being how it is, then I have to believe her. Otherwise, I’m
making the same mistakes as the first time we met - I’m assuming I know
better than her. And we all know she does not appreciate that.
Even with my justifications, I know I need to ease back from her a bit,
not spend quite so much time with her. It’s the right thing to do, but it still
makes my chest tighten and my stomach drop. If it’s the right thing, it
should make me feel better. Right?
I can’t be in a relationship, because I have no idea what the fuck I am
doing. My past has proven that without a doubt.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Four
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
I WOULD LOVE TO pretend I’m stronger that this, but I possess zero will
power, so I check my phone one more time.
Still nothing.
Fuck me. I have become that girl. The one who no longer has
independent thoughts of her own because she is so wrapped up in a guy and
wondering why he’s ghosting her.
That’s maybe a smidge too dramatic.
Logan isn’t officially ghosting me. At least not yet. But ever since he left
Wilder’s early the other night, he answers my texts with brief replies and
does not engage with me. Gone is the Logan sending me either flirty or
dirty texts. I can’t figure it out. We went from zero to sixty back to zero.
Except we never started at zero, did we? From the moment we met, there
was a spark between us. It became harder to deny each time we saw each
other. So we never even started at zero, but it seems like we are heading
there now.
“That was great, huh?” Glancing up from my phone, I see Mae. I didn’t
even realize she had pulled up. I am standing outside the visitor center
where she and I just finished presenting on various types of cacti to a tour
group.
That may sound boring as hell, but it’s not. The cacti found in Joshua
Tree are abundant and beautiful and I could go on about them for hours.
Mae and I (hopefully) made the presentation interesting. Based on the
feedback we got from the attendees, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves
and learn something.
Right after our presentation finished, Mae had to run out to check on
something, but came back to pick me up so that we could go to our spot to
hide and eat our lunches.
I should celebrate this win with Mae, as we have been planning this
presentation for a bit and it’s the first of its kind I have helped lead since
starting here at Joshua Tree. But, I can’t even be excited for us. I am instead
stewing over a boy. Not only am I not celebrating, but I also am not even
angry about an incident that happened earlier today. A few shithead visitors
were making comments about the female rangers being unfeminine and
“man-ish.” It was shitty, but, it barely even registered because I was so
caught up in my thoughts of Logan.
So on top of everything else, I’m a shitty feminist. I didn’t stand up for
myself (and other female rangers) earlier to those losers and I’m not
celebrating a win at work because I’m wrapped up in whether a dumb boy
likes me, or not. I want to scream. And I want to chuck my phone so I’m
not tempted to check it anymore.
I’m pissed. Pissed at him for treating me this way. Pissed at myself for
being pathetic.
I can’t get it out of my head, but I hesitate to talk to Mae about it. She is
friends with both of us, so I don’t want to put her in a weird position. It’s
more than that, though. I’m not ready to share anything about Logan. I want
him all to myself.
I try to push all that negative shit away. “That was awesome. You killed
it. I don’t know how you make cacti funny, but you did it.” I open the
passenger side door and hop in.
“I don’t know about that, but it was pretty great.” She backs out of the
parking spot and starts heading to our usual lunch spot.
I’m staring out the window, mouthing the words to the song playing
when Mae jerks the car left into a parking lot. “What the hell?”
“Sorry.” She points up ahead. “Saw that, so I figured we would stop and
say hi.” When I see where she is pointing, my chest clenches. The Wild
Times van.
I can’t do this now. Not in front of her. Not in front of anyone. Maybe it
won’t be him. He doesn’t do every tour.
Right as I have this thought, I catch sight of Logan. And the group of
women surrounding him. Attractive women. Women who are all gorgeous
in their yoga pants and crop tops. One might describe these women as
beautiful or even sexy. A couple of other words to describe them come to
my mind, but I banish those thoughts as I know they stem from jealousy
and have nothing to do with the actual women. At least I try to banish them.
I’m about to make an excuse to Mae, but she has already parked and is
hopping out of the car.
“Aditi,” she yells, at the same time I notice Denver is not Logan’s coguide today, but Aditi. Even though I’m pissed at Logan, this makes me
happy. Logan loves Aditi. There is no question, but he doesn’t always love
doing tours with her because she breaks out into song often and tries to get
him to sing along. He has never joined in, but that doesn’t stop her from
trying. Imagining that gives me endless amounts of pleasure.
And that happiness dissipates quickly.
The women surrounding Logan are gorgeous. And flirting with him. The
three women appear to all believe they have a chance with him. And he
doesn’t seem to mind their company as he tells a story. They are a captive
audience, and who could blame the women?
Aditi and Mae yap away next to me and I don’t even pretend to take part
in their conversation. Any of one of these women is the kind of woman
someone would assume that Logan would date. Beautiful, put-together,
fashionable. I can’t help it. I compare myself to these women and can’t help
but wonder what the hell is Logan doing with me? Is he just passing time?
I’ve always been proud to put on my park ranger uniform, no matter how
unflattering it is, but right now? Right now, I feel dowdy as hell and want to
get out of here.
Of course, Logan chooses that moment to look up and spots me, and if I
didn’t know better, I would say that he appears hopeful. And as I assumed,
that look is gone the second he notices I’m not returning it.
“Hey ladies,” he calls out.
Mae and Aditi pause their conversation and start walking towards Logan
and the women. I have no choice but to follow because if I walk away now,
it will draw more attention to me.
As we get closer, one woman clasps her hands together and looks
downright giddy. “Oh my gosh! Are you rangers? How adorable!”
It’s condescending, but not. I can’t tell how she means it. Since I’m in my
uniform, I decide to play nice. “Yes. We are park rangers. Are you enjoying
Joshua Tree?”
A different woman answers before the first has time to. “Yes. We had the
best tour, with the best guide.” She puts her hand on Logan’s arm. To his
credit, he takes a step back, so she is no longer touching him. Regardless, I
see red.
“I’m not surprised,” I reply. “I’ve heard Aditi is the best. She even gets
this one to sing sometimes.” Using my thumb, I gesture to Logan. “He
loves to sing but can get a little shy about it, so you’ll have to ask him.”
Mae snorts, and Aditi is chomping at the bit with the little nugget I
shared. Logan shoots me a death glare and I give him a small, bitchy smile
back.
Oblivious to all of this, woman number two glances at Logan and
expresses her absolute joy at this idea.
The third woman takes this opportunity to more closely observe our
ranger uniforms, stepping a little too close to me for comfort and
scrutinizing what I’m wearing. “Why do you wear those uniforms?”
I can’t.
Thankfully, Mae can. “Oh sweetie, it’s because we are park rangers.”
When Mae is bored at work, she does this thing where she uses different
voices and accents, and sometimes she plays a specific character from a tv
show, movie, or book. From the way she answered the woman, I don’t
know if she is playing a specific character, but I have seen her do this
before—where lays on the sweetness thick. Really thick.
“Right,” says the woman. “But can’t you wear something...I don’t know,
more feminine?”
That’s fucking it. I’m so over this idea that there is only one way to be
feminine. It’s total bullshit. I’m not saying I would dress like a park ranger
in my free time or that I find the uniform flattering - I don’t. But if someone
does, that doesn’t mean they are any less feminine or any less of a woman
or however they want to identify.
I must do a shitty job of hiding my rage, because Logan steps across the
middle of the circle we have formed, takes my arm, and says, “Can we
please talk for a minute?” It’s a question, but he doesn’t give me any time to
answer as he drags me away from the circle and back towards Mae’s car.
When we are far enough away from them, I attempt to wriggle out of his
clutches. “Let me go.”
He releases me, and neither of us says another word as we walk up to
Mae’s car.
There are so many things I want to say to him, but I don’t know where to
start. He doesn’t say a word, instead he stares at me. I glare at him. I am
prepared to hold out and not talk first, but once again, no willpower.
“Where in the hell have you been?”
He shrugs. “Around.”
“Don’t fucking do that to me. You know what I mean.”
“Sorry.” He at least had the decency to look sheepish. “I got a little
spooked and needed time.”
Oh. I appreciate the vulnerability it takes for him to admit that, but I still
am not letting him off the hook. “Why? What spooked you?”
“Something Grey said to me.”
“What did he say?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t anything negative,
though.”
“It matters to you if it makes you ignore me. I didn’t realize Grey was a
part of whatever this is between us.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “He’s not.”
“Then why does he get more of a say in it than I do?”
Logan drops his head in his hands for a moment before lifting it back up.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. Okay?”
“No. Not okay. If you get spooked, you talk to me. If you get pissed, you
talk to me. If you get...whatever—you talk to me. It’s okay to get spooked.
It’s not okay to ignore me and leave me wondering what the hell is going
on. That’s shitty.” My voice cracks a little on the last part. Damnit.
Logan takes a step closer to me. “Sawyer.” His voice drops low, and he
moves to put his hands on my hips but drops them at the last second. “I’m
sorry. You deserve better than that, and I promise to do better.”
I nod. There is nothing else to do or say, there is no point continuing to
stew in this. We stare at each other for a bit more.
“Can we talk about you now?”
This catches me off guard. “What about me?” That came out a bit sharp.
“I thought you were going to go after my clients back there. I pulled you
away to make you didn’t do anything to get yourself fired.”
I ignore the last part, as there may have been a kernel of truth there.
Those women, who were not the type of women I would spend time with,
but are probably at least decent human beings, had been the final straw for
me. Between this stuff with Logan and those dickhead visitors this morning,
I have been ready to blow. Add my insecurities to the mix as well. “Oh. Are
they your clients? Are you sure they aren’t more?”
“What? You think I’m fucking one of them?
“One. Two. All of them. No judgment.” I try to act nonchalant, but I’m a
shitty actor.
Logan is pissed and I don’t think this is an emotion I have seen on him
before. “Let’s get a few things clear, Sawyer. One, I don’t hook up with
clients. Ever. Two, you are the only one I’m fucking. Am I the only one for
you?”
“Yes. Of course. But, this thing between is not clear cut, so how am I
supposed to know what feels too relationship-y to you and what doesn’t?”
My turn to be vulnerable.
He lets out a breath and runs his hand through his hair. “You make a good
point. I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want to continue this anymore.”
Ah, what? “Are you kidding? Of course, I do.” I take a moment to gather
my thoughts. “Normally, I’m a follow the rules kind of girl and with you,
I’m never sure where we stand and what I can expect. It leaves me a bit out
of sorts.”
Logan steps into my space once again, but this time, he touches me. He
grips my hips and backs me up against Mae’s car. Speaking into my ear, he
practically growls. “You can expect me to respect you. You can expect me
to be exclusive to you. You can expect me to worship your body. You can
expect me to fuck your brains out.”
I let out a laugh. “Gross. That started so sweet and then you had to ruin
it.”
He shrugs. “Are we good?”
“Yes.” And I mean it.
“One more thing, though. Can we please talk about how a jealous Sawyer
is fucking hot as hell?”
I push him off of me, but he refuses to budge, instead leaning in and
giving me a soft kiss. “I figured you were getting ready to pee on me,
marking your territory.”
I wasn’t that bad and I’m about to deny it when instead I decide to
display the same honesty I hope he gives me. “I was jealous,” I admit. “But
it wasn’t only that.”
“What was it?” he prompts.
I wring my hands and try to find the right words. “Some of the park
visitors this morning said shitty things to me and I was already in a mood
about it.”
“What kinds of shitty things?” he demands.
“It wasn’t a big deal, but they insinuated I was less of a woman because
I’m doing a ‘man’s job’ and that I was unfeminine because of this uniform.
I was already on edge because of that. Then, I thought I was going to lose it,
between you freezing me out, seeing you with those beautiful women, and
the final straw, when the one said shit about my uniform. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated that way - by me, by the
visitors, or those women.” When he decides to talk to me, he somehow
always knows the right thing to say. “Can I ask one question, though?” I
nod. “Why do you care what they say?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? I say nothing for a moment and
Logan must realize that he hit a nerve. “What I mean,” he clarifies, “is that
you are so confident in most aspects of your life and you give no credence
to bullshit that other people say. Why aren’t you confident in this as well?
Why let this bother you?” My confusion must show, because he continues,
“Sawyer, you are gorgeous. Never doubt that.”
What am I supposed to say to that? It’s not the first time Logan has
described me as beautiful, but it might be the first time I have believed him.
“Shit,” he says. “I have been away from the group for way too long.
Gotta go, but can we do something tonight?”
“I’m in.”
“Perfect. I’ll pick you at six.” Logan steals one more kiss before jogging
back over to Aditi and the group.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Five
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
AS I’M FINISHING UP getting ready, there is a knock at my door. I give
myself one more glance in the mirror. It’s difficult to get ready for a date
when you do not know where you are going or what you are doing. It’s
especially difficult when it’s not supposed to be a date, but you are going to
do something together and then it will probably end with sex. Oh, and add
to that, that I need to dress warm, per the instructions given to me by
Logan.
I hate, HATE being cold, so I refuse to choose fashion over function, but
I still want to look good. So yeah, it took me longer than normal to get
ready tonight. I settled on a pair of black skinny jeans and paired them with
a camel-colored sweater. I left my hair down, except where I had pulled a
portion of it up, and braided it into a messy crown around my head.
Heading to the door, I pick up my coat and sling my favorite brown leather
purse across my body. I hope this coat will keep me warm from the major
temperature drops at night in the desert.
I take a breath before opening the door. I shouldn’t be nervous. This is
Logan. But, with all the changes to our relationship over the past week and
the tough conversations, I’m still not sure what will spook him again.
I open the door and can’t help the smile that breaks out across my face.
He’s so fucking hot. Describing someone as hot is weird when you think
about it. I try not to, but with him, it’s undeniable. Or maybe he is beautiful
and I get all hot and bothered when I’m close to him. Doesn’t matter. He’s
sexy as hell. Especially right now. He’s got fitted dark khaki-colored pants
on with an oatmeal-colored zip-up hoodie. Hot.
“Hey, Sawyer.”
“Hiya.”
We stand there like idiots grinning at each other.
I pull it together and say, “I’m ready to go if you are.”
“Actually, can I come in for a minute? I have something for you.” He
holds up a bag that I hadn’t noticed before when I was drooling over him.
My surprise must show because he laughs and steps into my townhouse.
I close the door behind him and turn to face him. We are standing close to
each other in the cramped entranceway. He holds out the gift bag to me and,
with his other hand, reaches to take my coat out of my hand. “It’s, ah, it’s
not a big deal. I...thought you might like it. Want it. Open it.” He’s so
nervous and sweet that I can’t even give him a hard time about it.
Taking the bag out of his hand, I reply. “Thank you. There was no need to
get me anything.” I open the bag up and pull the tissue paper to the side and
“Logan! Oh my God. Is this homemade?” I pull the gallon size Ziploc bag
out and let the gift bag drop to the floor. Holding up the bag to my face so
that I can get a closer look, I practically squeal. “Ohhhh, you included all of
my favorites!” I look at him and when our eyes lock, it’s different from the
ones he usually gives me - the kind that tells me what he wants to do to me.
This one is something else. I like it, but I’m not sure what it means.
Logan runs a hand through his hair. “Knowing you, a bag of trail mix
seemed like a safer bet than flowers or something else.” He runs a hand
through his hair again.
I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. I noticed earlier today, but it hadn’t
sunk in that his usual scruff was almost a full-blown beard, albeit a very
neat and short one. “You didn’t have to do anything, but it’s perfect. And
yes, a bag of trail mix is much more my style. Thank you.”
It is thoughtful, not because he got me something, but to choose
something so very specific to me. Everyone knows trail mix is my favorite
food, and it’s rare to not have a bag with me. But, then to take the time to
pick out all of my favorite ingredients and mix it up for me himself? Don’t
read too much into this, Sawyer, I tell myself. He is a nice, thoughtful guy
and he would do this for any of his friends. That’s true, isn’t it? I need to
accept this for the friendly gesture it is and leave it at that. And then enjoy
the trail mix.
“Ready?” he asks.
A few minutes later, we are in his truck and heading to wherever we are
going.
“Am I allowed to ask where we are going?”
“Yeah, sorry. We are going into the Park.” He makes a face. “I hope that’s
okay. I realize it’s kind of weird for me to take you there on a...it might be
weird since you work there, but I had an idea for something fun.”
“Not weird at all. I love going there with you. While I am learning so
much more about it every time I go to work, there is still so much I don’t
know. It’s even better when I get to experience Joshua Tree with you and
have time to learn from you.” I’m getting better at being braver with Logan,
so I also offer another little tidbit. “Plus, I love when you go into tour guide
voice. It’s...sexy.” The word sexy has popped into my head many times in
my life, but I’m not sure I have ever used it out loud. Not sure how I feel
about it coming out of my mouth.
Logan does not seem to find it weird as he is grinning ear to ear and I can
tell I’m in for it. “So what you are saying is, you are hot for teacher?” He
winks at me.
“Gross. You ruined it.”
Not your thing, huh? Noted. That works out well anyway, because I am
not an expert at what I’m about to show you.”
I dissect his words, but I can’t make sense of them and when he doesn’t
offer any further explanation, I don’t push him. Instead, I watch the scenery
go by and just enjoy his company.
During the ride into the park, Logan doesn’t give me any more hints
about what we are going to do. Instead, we catch each other up on our
weeks. He tells me about all the tours he’s been doing this week and I tell
him about my and Mae’s presentation we gave earlier in the day. It’s easy.
It’s effortless. It feels right.
Once we are in the Park, Logan takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. I
try to smile at him, but I’m sure it comes across as more creepy than
friendly.
He bursts out laughing. “It’s killing you, isn’t it? To not have all the
information? To not be in charge?”
“No,” I huff out. “I’m fine. I was thinking about that big bag of trail mix
you made me and how I couldn’t wait to gorge myself on it.” A lie, but I
want him to remind him how much I appreciate it, and not because I love
trail mix, but because he thought about it at all.
“While it’s reasonable for you to be daydreaming about trail mix, you are
a liar.” He laughs. “But you have suffered enough.”
Logan pulls into an empty parking lot. “We are going to stargaze.” I see a
flicker of something cross his face. I have seen that expression before, not
often though. It’s the look he gets when he is unsure or not confident about
himself.
“Great idea.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, of course.”
“One thing you should know before we get out. I love to be the tour
guide in the room, telling stories and, let’s get real, being the center of
attention. But, when I come out here to stare at the sky. I like to just be.”
“That sounds perfect.” And it does.
“Plus, I don’t know shit about the sky or the stars or any of it. All I know
is that I like it.”
“I’m not an expert either, but I have been learning bits and pieces from
Daniel,” I tell him.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah, he’s a ranger I work with. Super nice guy. Smart as hell.”
“I know him. I didn’t realize you two were close.” His words are clipped.
With a start, I realize Logan is jealous. I laugh. “You know he is into
dudes, right? Even if he wasn’t, you have nothing to worry about.”
Logan tries to play it off, shrugging his shoulders, pretending like it
didn’t bother him for a second. I laugh again. “Shut it,” he tells me, but his
smile gives him away.
Logan tells me he packed food and put an air mattress in the bed of his
truck. He insists this was so that we could take in the night sky without
craning our necks. I won’t challenge him on that one. Plus, it’s so sweet all
the time and energy he put into making tonight special.
Before we can hop out of the truck, I remember something. “According
to Daniel,” I emphasize those words, “the best views of the night sky are
facing east, since there are no big cities for hundreds of miles that way.”
Without a word, Logan backs out and turns the truck around. I love that
despite being confident and, even cocky, he has no problem acquiescing
when someone has an idea or knows more about something. Too many guys
I have dated or spent time around could never acknowledge that they might
not know everything. It’s tedious and not fun trying to navigate fragile egos,
so whenever I see signs of one, I run the other way.
Once Logan parks again, we get out. “No peeking,” he tells me as he
hops into the back of the truck and arranges everything to his liking. It takes
a few minutes and I don’t peek despite the flurry of activity that is taking
place. When he is satisfied, I throw my purse and coat into the back of the
truck and climb in. And stop.
He came prepared. There is an inflated air mattress covered with more
than enough pillows and blankets to keep us warm and comfortable. He has
a tray laying across the air mattress piled with food. “Did you make a
charcuterie board?”
“Perhaps.”
“This night keeps getting better and better.” We are still standing in the
truck’s bed, but I can’t help myself. I pull his face down to mine and kiss
him. “Thank you for tonight. It’s amazing.” Logan returns and deepens the
kiss. We get lost in each other for a minute before breaking away.
We get settled and Logan asks, “So what else did you learn
from Daniel?” He puts quotes around Daniel like Daniel isn’t a real person
or something.
I giggle as I pop a grape into my mouth. “Well, let’s see. First, you
picked an excellent night to stargaze as we are in the new moon phase,
meaning the moon isn’t visible, so it’s not lighting up the night sky, making
it difficult to see the stars.” Pausing to take a sip of water, I then continue,
“Also, once we are out here, it takes a while for our eyes to adjust, thirty
minutes give or take. So we can give it a little time and we should be able to
see a bit more.”
“So you mean I have to sit here and enjoy your company for the next
thirty minutes?” he deadpans. “Torture.”
“I know, right?”
We eat, drink, and chat for a lot longer than thirty minutes, but it is crazy
how our eyes work. The longer we stay out here, the more we can see.
Eventually, there is a perfect dome of twinkling stars surrounding us.
As more stars become prominent in the sky, I tell Logan. “So Daniel told
me a lot more about various stars and constellations, but I don’t remember a
lot. Part of it is because I have never been out here with him at night.”
Without taking my eyes off the sky, I elbow him.
Logan tugs me in closer to him, which is not all that close, considering
there is the tray between us. So we pack up the food and move the tray.
After rearranging the pillows and blankets, we snuggle together, still gazing
up at the sky. Then we stay like that for a while.
I don’t know how much time passes when I ask, “So you have an air
mattress in the back of your truck...were you hoping to get laid?”
“Maybe.”
I pick my head up off of his chest. “You realize two pumps and this thing
is going to pop, right?”
“Hopefully, I’ll last longer than two pumps, though.”
“Fingers crossed. No, seriously, why didn’t you throw an actual mattress
in the back?” I hold up my hands. “No complaints about anything, because
tonight is perfect.”
“Who has extra mattresses lying around?”
“I have an extra one.”
“Well, now I know. Besides, a mattress in the back of a truck. That would
be trashy.”
“You’re right. What was I thinking?”
“Now that is something I could get used to hearing.”
“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
While we are verbally sparring, Logan’s hands have been snaking
underneath the layers of blankets and finding their way into my pants. My
jeans are pretty tight so I do him a solid - who am I kidding? It’s more for
me, and shimmy out of them while staying beneath the blankets.
Logan rolls me over onto my back and palms me over my underwear,
noticing how turned on I am. A wicked smile breaks out across his face as
he leans in and whispers in my ear. “Why Sawyer, one might say that you
have moist panties.”
I throw my head back and laugh while somehow cringing at the same
time. “If you know what’s good for you, you will never use those two
words together again. Or separately.”
Logan kisses me while finding his way into my underwear - not panties which are wet - not moist. Parting the lips of my pussy, he slides one finger
in me and learns how aroused I am. When a second finger joins the first, my
hips buck up off the mattress.
“Careful,” Logan cautions, as I decide it’s time to rid myself of my
underwear. “That kind of action will pop this mattress.” Putting his fingers
back inside of me, this time he uses his thumb as well to strum over my clit.
The sensation of him working me in and out and the friction on my clit has
me already building towards an orgasm. Needing more, I pull his fingers
out of me and pull him down on top of me.
I spread my legs wide, and he settles between them. I love his weight on
top of me, pressing me down. Even better is the feel of him between my
legs. He is still wearing his pants, but I can feel every inch of his hard
length on me. His hardness combined with the seam of his pants rubbing up
and down my pussy has me pushing back against him, trying to get more of
him. Before long, we are dry humping like a couple of teenagers, and I
can’t remember why I didn’t do more of this in high school.
My fingers grip his back, trying to pull him more and more into me until
Logan pulls away, sitting back on his heels. He picks up the blanket that is
covering us and readjusts it before diving back down. This time the blanket
is covering me, but he is much further down.
Logan’s mouth blazes a trail down my torso, starting at my ribcage, then
to my navel, and onto my inner thigh. The blanket is preventing me from
seeing what he is doing. His actions are even more intense without the gift
of sight, as he lights up my body with his touch. He pauses for a moment
before flicking my clit with his tongue. Once again, my hips shoot off the
bed. Logan holds me wide and devours me.
I have been getting off for weeks from fantasizing about him with all that
scruff. But, now? To feel it rubbing back and forth between my legs? I have
been missing out. And I’m never going to look at Logan’s face without
remembering this moment.
My fingers tangle in his hair, more to feel him than to guide him. He is
doing fine on his own. Much more than fine. I grip his hair and groan as
Logan continues to lap up my arousal. Too soon, every muscle in my body
is tightening up and I squirm as I hit the peak and explode. When the last
spasm has worked its way through my body, I grip his shoulders, pulling
him up towards me.
“I want you in me.”
Logan wastes no time divesting himself of his pants and underwear and
rolling a condom on. As promised, he never seems to be without one
anymore. As he lays back down on top of me, he says, “I hate to say you
are right, but you might have been on to something with the mattress.”
Glancing to the side, I notice he and I are already sinking farther down
towards the bottom of the mattress. “Oh shit. Better make this quick then.”
He slides into me, his cock filling me. Logan pumps in and out of me,
each thrust filling me up. However, I’m distracted as my back has sunk
down to the bed of the truck. I would readjust, but we are trying to be
discreet by staying below the top of the truck bed.
“Fuck.” Logan must have noticed at the same time as me.
“It’s fine. Let me up.” I push at him, and he pulls out of me and rolls onto
his side. I flip over on my stomach and stuff a pillow under me. Logan
climbs onto my back and slides back into me.
So much deeper this time. “Oh fuck, Sawyer. Shit. You are so amazing.”
He thrusts again, his balls slapping the back of my thighs as he picks up the
pace. The pillow underneath me is providing the friction I need on my clit
and I am once again getting close. “I’m about there,” I tell him.
“Me too,” he pants out.
“Oh Logan,” I moan as I come around his cock.
Logan continues for a few more seconds before unleashing himself into
me.
It is silent as we both lay there, not moving, still trying to catch our
breaths. Then, I can’t help it, but I laugh when I notice that the air mattress
is no more. Logan joins in before pulling out of me and disposing of the
condom in our garbage bag.
“Want to know the best part?” He asks as I am pulling my underwear and
jeans back on. “This is Brady’s mattress.” We lose it all over again.
While Logan dresses, I rearrange the pillows and blankets to make it as
comfortable as possible now that the air mattress is done for. When
everything is arranged how I want it, I climb under the blanket and wait for
Logan to join me.
As we snuggle, trying once again to get warm, I ask him to pretend to be
a tour guide telling me stories of the night sky. He switches into his sexy
tour guide voice, which, for the record, doesn’t sound all that different from
his normal voice, but if I listen closely, I can hear the difference.
Logan starts in on a story about a cluster of stars that rivals the drama of
a telenovela and he has me laughing so hard, tears are streaming down my
face. Despite my cracking up, he somehow maintains his composure and
keeps his ridiculous story going.
When he finishes, I’m still trying to catch my breath from laughing so
hard. When I can talk, I tell him, “I’m in awe of you. I could never do that. I
can’t believe you made that up on the spot and not only was it funny, it
mostly made sense.”
Logan shrugs his shoulders but says nothing.
I push off from where I had been laying on his chest. “Seriously. You are
so smart and so creative.” Gripping his chin, I force him to meet my gaze.
“What the hell? When did you stop loving compliments?”
He shrugs again but still says nothing.
“What is it?” I ask. “Tell me.” I take another breath. “Tell me. Tell me.
Tell me. I can go all night. Tell me. Tell -”
“For fuck’s sake, Sawyer.”
I’m annoying him, but I want to find out what is going on with him, so I
don’t care. I say nothing more, but I do stare at him, hoping to make it
awkward enough that he tells me.
And it works. He caves.
Logan suppresses a groan. “I don’t have a problem with compliments.
It’s no secret my ego is alive and well. It’s...it’s stupid. Forget it.”
I take his hand. “It’s not stupid, I promise.”
He lets out another sigh. “Fine. Nobody ever compliments me on being
smart or creative. That’s all.”
He tries to shrug as if to play it off, but he isn’t fooling anyone. I can’t
help it. I make a face. “People must comment on you being smart all the
time. Even if they don’t directly say it. By commenting on the fact that you
have a successful business, they are indirectly saying you are an intelligent
person.”
Logan shakes his head. “No, that’s all Brady.”
I scoff. “No, it’s not.”
“I think I know more about my business than you.”
“True,” I reply. “But you might not be seeing it clearly since you are on
the inside. To be clear, I’m not discounting Brady. It’s just that you are
fucking brilliant and I can’t understand why you don’t see that. I appreciate
that you aren’t an arrogant prick, but I also want you to embrace the idea
that you are smart.”
Logan is quiet for a minute, before he lets out a barely audible, “Thank
you. That means a lot to me, especially coming from you. I don’t think I’m
an idiot or anything. But with Brady and me, I’m not the smart one. He is.”
“Why can’t you both be smart?”
“I don’t know. He’s smarter than I am. He always has been.”
“Disagree. He might have done better in school than you, and he might
be smarter than you in math or something else more traditional, but that
doesn’t mean you aren’t also smart in other ways.”
“Now it sounds like you are trying to give me an award for most
improved player.”
I can’t help it. I snort and immediately drop my face into my hands.
Logan’s arms come around me as he laughs. My grossness has lightened the
mood.
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “You are brilliant, and it’s not just because you
are great in bed.”
“Well, thank you.” He scrunches his face up for a second. “That’s one
thing I like about you.”
I can’t keep the surprise off of my face. Logan and I don’t talk about
feelings—like at all. I’m sure that’s too relationship-y for him. We like each
other a lot, and we have a great time together, but this is unfamiliar territory
for us. “What is?” I ask.
“That you expect more out of me. You don’t let me get away with
anything. Believe it or not, I have gotten away with a lot over the years.”
I bark out a laugh. “No shit. I see it happen all the time and it’s amazing.
And concerning. But you are more than a pretty face. So much more. And
anyone who tells you differently can go fuck themselves.”
“There’s my Sawyer.” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, we
both realize his mistake. I’m not his and he’s not mine. I give a small shake
of my head, trying to tell him it’s no big deal.
Wanting to change the subject, I grasp at the first thought in my head.
“This seems like a bit of a sore subject with you. Did something happen
with Brady?”
Logan doesn’t answer immediately. Then he says, “I want to talk to you
about something, but can it stay between us? Don’t say anything to Mae or
the guys.”
“Of course.” And I mean it.
He nods his head in what I can assume is thanks and stays quiet for a bit
longer. “Lately,” he says, letting out a breath. “Lately, I haven’t been as
happy with Wild Times as I should be.”
Logan stops and glances over at me. I don’t want to say anything,
because I want him to elaborate, but I don’t want him to think I’m forming
judgment either. So I decide to keep it simple. “Okay.” Then I squeeze his
hand. And wait for him to tell me more. And it’s fucking torture because I
want to jump in with three thousand questions, but I hold my tongue
because I don’t want to assume anything. Besides, this isn’t about satisfying
my curiosity, but letting him unburden himself.
“I still love it and it’s what I want to be doing with my life. I just don’t
like it every day anymore. Does that make sense?”
“Yes and no. What don’t you like about it?”
“There are tours I have been doing weekly or even multiple times a week
for four years now. I’m bored with them and uninspired. It’s more like a
chore, rather than the fun it used to be.” He pauses. “I sound like a whiny
baby, sorry.”
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re not whining, you’re
sharing your feelings. What’s stopping you from making a change?”
“Brady.”
Ah. “He’s not on board with the changes?”
“No. And he has good reason not to be from a business perspective, but
he’s pissing me off because he won’t even have the conversation. It’s
annoying because he’s not my boss, but my partner. Part of me thinks I
should suck it up and deal with it, and the other part of me wants to push
him on it.”
“What’s the harm in pushing him on it? From what I can tell, he’s a
reasonable guy.”
Logan squints at me and cocks his head to the side. “There’s no harm per
se, but I’m not big on confrontation.”
I scoff. “Who is?” I pause for a moment and then amend that statement.
“I take that back because there are people who thrive on it, but the point is,
if it is important to you, you’ll suck it up and talk to him about it.” I give
him my best, most stern face. “Besides, do you realize how much of a
privilege it is to say you don’t like confrontation, so you are going to avoid
it?”
“How so?” he asks.
“Well, I for one hate confrontation as well, but over the years, I have
made myself confront people time and time again, otherwise I would let
them get away with sexist bullshit. It would be nice to say I don’t like
confrontation either and then go about living my life. You can get away
with that as a straight white male. And let’s get real, so many people are in
much worse situations than me every day. This was so not the point of this,
but I can’t help myself.”
Logan’s hands find their way under my shirt and he’s tickling me.
“Sawyer? Not liking confrontation? I don’t believe that for a minute!”
“Stop! Stop!” I say as he goes in for an aggressive tickle.
“Only if you give me a kiss.”
I nod vigorously, still trying to wriggle away from his grasp. Leaning in,
I give him a loud smack on the lips.
“Not what I had in mind, but I’ll take it.”
Finally able to catch my breath, I say, “We got sidetracked. If this is
important to you, talk to Brady about it soon. Don’t let it fester. That never
ends well.”
Logan nods and pulls me closer to him. “Thank you.”
“I said nothing profound. You would have got there on your own.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Thanks for listening. I like talking to you.”
“I like talking to you, too.”
Logan squeezes me. “Enough about me. I want to talk about you now.”
“What about me?” I ask.
“Will you tell me more about summers with your grandparents in North
Carolina? Whenever you talk about them, your face lights up. Tell me more
about them.”
As soon as he asks, he must see my face fall. I squeeze his hand, to let
him know it is okay that he asked. Of course, it’s okay, but he catches me
off guard with the question, so I don’t trust my voice to work without
breaking. I hold up a finger to tell Logan that I need a minute. He says
nothing back, but I can see the worry. And maybe a bit of guilt for asking,
even though he shouldn’t feel that way at all.
When I trust myself to talk without crying, I reply to his question.
“You’re right. It made me the happiest until it didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Sawyer. We don’t have to talk about this if it is upsetting...I
just wondered some things about your grandparents because you spoke
about them with such love and joy.”
It’s my turn to give his arm a squeeze. “Don’t apologize. I love that you
asked me about them. And I can talk about them without getting upset, like
when I told you about them the first time. I was not prepared. They were,
um...they were...killed in a car accident during my junior year of high
school.” I pause for a second. “I would have gone to college somewhere
near them, but once they were gone, I didn’t want to be in that area without
them.”
“Shit. Sawyer. That’s terrible. I’m sorry. If you are feeling up to it, I
would love to hear more about them. If they were your favorite people in
the world, they must have been special.”
I scrunch up my nose in an attempt to stop the flood of tears. Logan
notices and rubs my back. It does not help the situation. I quickly become a
snotty mess. Or more accurately, his hoodie does from me burying my face
in it.
Once I have gained control of my emotions again, I tell him about my
grandma and grandpa—and how they were the coolest fuckers on the
planet. Then, I decide to go one step further and admit something to him,
something I have never told anyone, something that it took me a long time
to even admit to myself.
“They died over eight years ago and once they were gone, they took my
sense of home with them. I never was at peace living in the city, it wasn’t
for me. And when they both died so suddenly, my safe haven was ripped
away. I never wanted to go to their home again. I couldn’t be there without
them. So I headed out west for college and since then I have been
searching. I never knew exactly what I was searching for, but it’s been clear
to me that I haven’t found it...until I arrived in Preserve. Since arriving here,
I have felt this overwhelming sense of peace. Whether it’s the place, the
people, the job, or more likely, some combination of it all, I don’t know.
But, I know I haven’t had this feeling since all the summers I spent with my
grandparents. It’s a feeling I always wished I could bottle and save for the
entire year, and now I have it.”
Once I start telling Logan, I can’t stop. I realize I haven’t opened up to
anyone about my grandparents ever. Logan holds me the entire time,
soothing me and asking me questions. I can tell he is interested in learning
about them. He’s not just being polite. And whether I mean for it to happen,
or not, my heart cracks open a little for him.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Six
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
EACH WEEK OF NOVEMBER passes quicker than the previous. My tour
schedule is packed so full, there is barely time to think. The feeling of
unease that I had been experiencing as of late with Wild Times doesn’t even
have an opportunity to resurface. Between work, my friends, and Sawyer,
there is no time or energy for anything else.
And truth be told, I don’t want to focus on the negative right now. Things
between Sawyer and I are great. The physical stuff has always been easy
between us, but we hit a few stumbling blocks at first as we tried to
navigate what friends with benefits meant to us. Now, we are in a good
place. We hang out when we are with our friends, in addition to spending
time only with each other a few times a week. Sometimes, I stay at her
place. Sometimes, she spends the night at mine.
We are good. And it’s easy. And fun. And hot. Sex with Sawyer is the
best I have ever had.
The only problem is this can’t last. I continue to keep myself from getting
too attached to her because at some point she is going to realize she wants
and deserves more. I’ll continue to be a selfish bastard and keep her for
myself until she kicks me to the curb.
But, I will not think about any of that now, because today is one of my
favorite days of the year - Thanksgiving. I think I love it because it’s like
Christmas when you get together with people that you love, to hang out and
eat delicious food, but there is none of the hoopla surrounding gift giving.
It’s more about being together.
Since moving here four years ago and finding this group of people I
consider a second family, I have not gone home for Thanksgiving. Brady
either. We are close with our family, but this is a busy and profitable
weekend for us. So we spend it with our friends and then take a couple of
days off for Christmas so we can be home with our family.
This year, I get the best of both worlds as I get to celebrate Thanksgiving
with my friends, and then tomorrow, my parents are taking a day trip in
from San Diego to spend the day with me and Brady. Coming from a big
family, I never get to spend time with my parents with none of my siblings
around.
Today is going to be great. I snuck out of Sawyer’s bed early this
morning, doing my best not to wake her on her day off. She rarely sleeps
late anyway, but even so, I had to stop myself from kissing her goodbye
because if she can sleep in for once; I don’t want to be the one to ruin that
for her.
After an easy tour with a fun group of people this morning, I head home
to shower, prep food, and get ready before heading back out to pick up
Sawyer and Mae. The three of us head to Wilder’s together.
Wilder has hosted our Friendsgiving for a few years now, go figure. We
all keep wondering when he is going to get sick of us degenerates being at
his house all the time. But, until he kicks us to the curb, we are going to
keep coming back. Besides, the dude loves to host, and we all love that he
wants to. Even though we all help with food and drinks, it’s a lot more work
to be the host. Between loving to cook and a fondness for being in charge,
hosting suits Wilder to a tee.
Instead of him getting sick of us, at some point, he will date someone,
and she will not want us around all the time. Understandably, you wouldn’t
want people walking in and out of your house at all hours with no notice.
Or, you wouldn’t want people hanging out at your house when you aren’t
there. I can’t count the number of times I have stopped over and Wilder
wasn’t around, but instead of heading home, I let myself in and hung out
until he got back. Yeah, it’s a safe bet that Wilder’s future girlfriend won’t
want that. But it’s going to suck when that happens. Maybe Brady and I will
take over hosting duties at that point. We are the only other ones with our
own house.
I shake my head, trying to figure out why my thoughts took such a weird
turn. It’s not like Wilder is even dating anyone. He’s a bit of an enigma as
he has dated no one the entire time we have been friends. That’s not
uncommon for our group, but seeing as he is thirty-five, I always assumed
that he would be the first one to settle down. But, as the years pass, I’m not
sure if that’s true. He doesn’t seem to be in any rush and enjoys the shit out
of everything he does. Plus, he’s super busy with Preserve JT, the non-profit
he has taken over and done so much good with. I don’t see where someone
would fit into his life.
“It’s ready. You guys can dig in now.” Sawyer calls from the family
room. The only response is the thundering of feet and slamming of the back
door, as there is a mad rush for the family room.
Pretending like I am more sophisticated than these heathens, I casually
make my way to the family room. Everyone is sitting on the couches and
chairs surrounding the coffee table where Sawyer and Mae made a
charcuterie board the size of the table, laying down kraft paper to act as the
board.
“Thanks, ladies. It looks delicious,” I say as I nudge Denver, trying to get
him to scoot over on the couch.
Without tearing his eyes away from the food, he shoves my leg away.
“Nah, ah. You aren’t my boss right now. Find your own damn seat.”
To be a dick, I pinch the back of his arm before walking away to find a
different seat. Before I sit down, I lean over and steal a kiss from Sawyer.
Then I wink at her. “I have fond memories of charcuterie boards.” She must
remember the night in my truck as well, because her face flames.
“Gross,” says Mae. “That means nothing to me, but it made me lose my
appetite.” Looking back down at the spread of food, she quips, “And, it’s
back.” She digs into the food again.
And that’s how we continue for the next several hours: snacking, giving
each other shit, and having a good time. After Sawyer got her fill of the
snacks, she found her way over to me to cuddle and doze with me on the
couch while a football game plays on the TV. Coming to, I notice that all of
my friends are doing some version of this themselves. Everyone is spread
out on the couches, comfy chairs, and even on the floor. Checking my
phone to make sure I’m not yet needed on kitchen duty, I’m happy to see
there is time to spare. I pull Sawyer in closer to me and drift back to sleep.
Best feeling ever.
I have no idea how much time passes before I’m once again in the land
between sleeping and awake. I can hear more talking and the clinking and
clanking coming from the kitchen, but I’m so damn comfortable, I don’t
want to open my eyes. After dozing a bit longer, I force my eyes open.
When I check the time, I blink furiously, trying to rid the heaviness of sleep
from them. I stand up way too fast, almost fall over, and sit back down.
I hear a snicker from across the room. It takes a minute, but when I can
focus well enough, I realize it is Brady. “Where’s the fire?”
“I’m supposed to be chopping. I promised Wilder I would stick to his
prepping schedule.” Standing up again, I head to the kitchen.
“Chill out,” he calls after me. “Sawyer started for you so you could
sleep.”
This gives me pause and I stand in the kitchen’s doorway and watch her
for a second as I try to work out why this is hitting me so hard. She’s so
generous. And kind. But she does it in a way that doesn’t allow anyone to
walk all over her or take advantage of her kindness. She is giving of herself,
but she has boundaries.
Right now, she and Grey are laughing about something as they chop
away. She’s so perfect. I wish I could be perfect for her, but I can’t. I know
how it will end if I try. Been there, done that. But that doesn’t take away
from the fact that I’m such a lucky bastard to get her, even if it is only for
this moment in time.
“Hey. Sorry.” Both Grey and Sawyer glance up at the sound of my voice.
Sawyer stops chopping and waves me off. “No worries. Nap time was
over for me anyway,”
I walk over to her and take the knife from her. Sliding my other arm
around her waist, I pull her in, kiss her cheek, and murmur in her ear.
“Thank you. It was a great nap.”
“Good.” Then, I hip check her lightly, taking over where she left off.
Laughing, she heads out of the kitchen and I can’t help but watch her walk
away.
The weight of Grey’s inspection of me pins me in place.
I point the knife at him. “Fuck you. Don’t say it.”
He holds up his palms. “I didn’t say a word.”
The bastard starts whistling as we go back to chopping.
Wilder promised dinner would be at six o’clock and at six o’clock on the
dot, he calls us to the table. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. The
sun has already set, and the temperature continues to drop, so even though it
was a beautiful day, we opt to sit inside. It works out better anyway because
the table inside is bigger than the one on the back patio.
There are, of course, assigned seats. As we try to find the ones Wilder
assigned for us, there is also a rush to refill drinks so that we can all sit
down and dig in. Taking in the spread on the table, it’s clear we have
outdone ourselves once again.
While I choose to eat meat sparingly, being the hardcore environmentalist
that he is, Wilder never touches it, or any animal product. Even though
there is no wiggle room for him, he isn’t preachy about it. However, it
means that when he hosts, it will be a vegan meal. Of course, the rest of us
are welcome to bring non-vegan-friendly dishes - and we used to - but over
the years, we all have opted to eat vegan when we are at Wilder’s. I can’t
speak for anyone else, but I think it is a combination of respect for his
values, the knowledge that it is better for the environment, and that I
guarantee the food we are eating is more delicious than most people eat.
Besides, let’s get real, do that many people even like turkey? Not me. Long
story, short. We are having a vegan Thanksgiving, but it’s going to be
fucking delicious and I can’t wait to dig in.
We all find our seats. Wilder is at one end and Mae is acting like the
queen she believes herself to be claiming the head of the table at the other
end. I’m on one side, sandwiched between Grey and Brady. Sawyer is
sitting across from me, book ended by Denver and Aditi. Aditi doesn’t hang
out with us all the time, usually opting instead for a group that is a little
artsy-er, but she knows everyone well enough to be comfortable. I’m glad
because I would have been a dick making her work this weekend if she
didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.
Taking my seat, I feel like I’m in middle school, because I’m a little
disappointed I wasn’t assigned to sit next to Sawyer, but I’ll take sitting
across from her. I’ll settle for playing a little footsie during dinner instead of
feeling her up under the table. Jesus. I am like a fucking teenager.
“Thank you all for being here. Let’s eat!” At Wilder’s words, we dig in.
It’s a cacophony of sounds as silverware clanks against serving dishes,
platters are passed, and pleasantries exchanged. Followed quickly by
silence as we feast. The silence is fleeting as requests for seconds, moans of
delight, and groans of discomfort at overeating punctuate the air. It’s
Thanksgiving, and it’s my favorite.
Later, after the eating has slowed, dinner dishes are cleared and replaced
with dessert trays. Coffee is being passed and a wave of contentment settles
over our group. It’s at this point that Wilder declares it is time for us to go
around the table and say what we are thankful for. Even though we are all
friends, It can be a little nerve-wracking for people to talk in front of
everyone and share their thoughts, but for someone like me, who talks for a
living, it doesn’t give me pause in the slightest. What gives me pause, at
least this year, is what I want to say, what I want to share.
It is determined that Wilder will go last, and since Denver is sitting to his
right, he will have the honor of going first.
He makes a show of chugging half of his beer and gives a nervous laugh.
“Seriously, though.” His gaze darts around the table. “I know you all give
me shit all the time, which I enjoy to no end, but the past year of getting to
know all of you has been the best of my life. Thank you all for your
friendship. Also, I seemed to hit the jackpot working for Brady and Logan,
and with Aditi. You three are the best. Uh, yeah.”
This makes my heart hurt a bit. Denver and I give each other constant
shit. I hope he knows how much I love him. I better say something when
it’s my turn.
It doesn’t take a genius to see how uncomfortable Denver is, so I hold up
my drink. “Cheers.” Everyone returns the sentiment and clinks their glasses
before taking a sip.
Sawyer reaches over and squeezes Denver’s shoulder. “That was great.
Thanks for going first, it takes the pressure off me.” Denver’s face flames
and it’s clear he isn’t someone comfortable sharing his feelings—that what
he shared was a lot for him. Sawyer must have noticed too, as I can tell she
is trying to make him comfortable.
“Well, like Denver, I haven’t been here long, but I am grateful for every
one of you. I worked and lived in many places over the past few years, but I
have never felt a sense of home until I came here and met all of you. So
thank you. Thank you for your friendship, your kindness, and your
willingness to include me. I have had more fun and adventures in the few
months of living here than I thought possible, even from that first meeting
in the parking lot of a grocery store.”
Then she winks. Right at me.
I am so caught up in that wink and what it means that I miss the round of
cheers and the accompanied hooting and hollering. So does Sawyer as we
stare at each other across the table, like two fools.
It’s not her style to draw attention to me and her with a big declaration,
but I like that she is grateful for me. I’m grateful for her. No question.
“I’ll keep this short,” Aditi starts. “Thank you for including me today.
And like Denver, I’m grateful for my job and working with you hooligans,
even if you pretend to hate my singingggggggg.” She belts out the last three
words and I can’t hold back my laughter, because she is one hundred
percent directing it at me.
“Cheers.” I hold up my glass.
Before everyone can even finish their drinks, Mae has stood up from her
place at the head of the table. She cracks her knuckles and pretends to
stretch out as she gets ready to speak.
“What the hell are you doing?” asks Brady.
“I think she is going to wrestle someone,” chimes in Denver. He stands
up. “I volunteer as tribute.”
“Sit your ass down and the rest of you be quiet. Give a girl a chance to
speak.” As always, Mae commands attention.
“I love you all very much. I’m thankful for each of you, but maybe most
thankful that this was the year that I met my soulmate.” She pauses for
dramatic effect. “Sawyer,” she finishes. Oh yeah, duh.
“Right back atcha,” Sawyer pipes in. And it’s true. Those two are like
long-lost sisters and while I like to think that I have a lot to do with Sawyer
loving it here, I’d be an arrogant dumbass not to assume that Mae plays an
even bigger role in Sawyer’s happiness. Especially because, of course, for
Sawyer, Mae is forever and I’m not.
I let that thought sit there for a moment and I instantly hate it. I hate that
it has to end with Sawyer, but it will. It makes me nauseous and I try to
blame the feeling on the fact that I ate about ten pounds of food, but I’m
lying to myself.
“So, it’s been a glorious year,” Mae continues. “And I think I am ready to
start accepting applications for the part of my boyfriend. Anyone sitting at
this table need not apply. However, I am going to give you each an early
Christmas gift. Each of you may set me up on one date with the man of
your choosing.”
Silence. Then.
“Oh, fuck!”
“Are you crazy?”
“Hell yeah, this is going to be insane.”
Mae holds up a hand and the reactions from the group quiet down. “I will
go out on a date with a man that each of you sets me up with, as long as he
meets certain criteria which will be forthcoming. Keep in mind, I’m over
boys. I need a real man.” And with that, she sits down to shouts of delight,
scrolling through phones, bets being made, and names already being tossed
out there.
Only Mae would do something like this. I shake my head because this is
going to be interesting. “When will we receive the aforementioned
criteria?” I ask.
“I’ll get it to you next week,” Mae responds.
“This is your most brilliant plan to date,” says Brady. “Can I propose
another level to this?”
“Go on,” drawls Mae.
“If during this experiment, you find a suitable man, can we all vote on
whether he gets to be around long term? I only ask because I don’t want to
hang out with another douche like the last prick you dated.” It sounds harsh,
but Brady speaks the truth. The guy was the worst and none of us could
figure out why Mae kept him around.
”As long as us girls get a vote for the women you guys bring around.”
Brady considers it for a moment. “Seems fair,” he concludes. “Boys?”
We guys agree in a chorus of yes’s and yep’s.
“Ladies?” Mae asks.
Sawyer and Aditi agree as well, but when I look at Sawyer, I can tell it is
a fake smile. I try to catch her eye to see what’s bothering her, but she is
staring down at her plate, using her fork to move food around on it.
Nudging her with my foot under the table, her eyes shoot up to me. I give
her a little shrug as if to say, “what’s wrong?” She shakes her head as if to
say everything is okay, but I don’t believe her. I’ll find out later in private.
“All right, I guess it’s my turn,” says Grey. Given the way he is staring at
the drink in his hand, swirling it around the glass, I’m guessing he is
nervous. It’s no secret that speaking in front of a crowd, even one only
made up of friends, is not his thing. He will talk one on one, or in a small
group for hours, but get him in front of a crowd and he is content to sit back
and listen. It’s one of the things I like best about him—and not just because
I enjoy attention so much, but because when Grey says something, it’s
important. He never runs his mouth, rather he chooses each word precisely.
That’s why he has been pissing me off when he comments on me and
Sawyer. If he feels the need to call me out, it must be important. Not
wanting to think too hard on that point, I turn my attention back to him.
If the lighting wasn’t so dark in this room, I would swear Grey is
blushing right now. “I’m going to ride on Mae’s coattails here for a second
and say that I, uh, too, am, uh, in the market to settle down.” He holds up
his hands before we can all chime in. “Now, I’m not fucking nuts, so you
assholes don’t get a say in it, but I wanted to put it out there that I am.
Looking for something serious, that is.” The second he stops talking, I can
tell that he is insanely uncomfortable.
“That’s great, man. Thanks for sharing.” I don’t know if it is the right
thing to say, or what I should even say, but I don’t want to leave Grey
hanging there. It seems to do the trick because he starts talking again.
But, before he can get the words out, Denver chimes in. “So let me get
this straight. Mae wants a real man. And Grey wants something serious.
Easy peasy. Problems solved.”
Mae and Grey wear matching expressions of pure disgust and both
immediately make retching sounds. Everyone laughs because it is how they
feel about each other. It’s how we all feel about Mae. She’s fun and a great
friend, and I guess objectively pretty, but she’s one of the guys. We barely
consider her a girl.
I would never say that out loud, because I would be in for a thirty-minute
lecture from either Mae or Sawyer on how it’s shitty to imply that because a
woman is cool that she is more like a dude. I get that, but that’s not my
point. None of us think about Mae as a sexual being. She’s just Mae. Our
buddy. The fucking crazy one.
“Yeah, no,” Mae says.
“Not a chance,” agrees Grey. “I never said what I was thankful for. I’m
thankful for each one of you. My friendship with each of you is different.
Growing up, it was always just my mom and me. We were, are, super close,
as many of you know, but I was always jealous of people who had big
families. I could only imagine what it was like to grow up surrounded by so
many people you love. Anyway, I’m thankful that I have that now, with all
of you, my chosen family.”
Well, shit. I clear my throat, trying to get around the lump that formed at
Grey’s words. “Cheers,” we all chime in and take a drink.
My turn.
As I start to speak, I’m a little more nervous than I realize. While talking
in front of people is literally my job, I’m not usually sharing my feelings. I
could cop out and offer a general “I’m thankful for my friends and family,”
but that wouldn’t feel right after everyone has shared something heartfelt.
Even Mae. She might have presented it hilariously, but it took a lot for her
to admit that she is ready to put herself out there again and wants a little
help.
“I’ll start with Wild Times. I’m thankful for it - it’s as simple as that.
That I get to wake up every day and run a business with Brady is a
privilege. I’m also thankful that we have grown enough to be able to bring
Aditi and Denver on board. We couldn’t ask for better tour guides and now
friends. It seems crazy that my job is sharing my love of the outdoors with
other people while doing stupid shit with you two. And I’m thankful that
Brady knows how to run a business, because none of this would work
without him.” I shift my focus over to Wilder. “I’m thankful Wilder is a
mother hen, always taking care of us, feeding us, and giving us a place to
hang besides being a great friend. Mae, I’m thankful that I can call you my
friend, besides the fact that you make me laugh harder than anyone else.
Grey, I’m thankful for your insights. I can always count on you to be honest
with me and keep me in line and for that, I am thankful, even though I
might not realize it in the moment.”
I take a deep breath and try to gather myself before turning to Sawyer.
“Sawyer, I’m thankful for grocery store parking lots, flat tires, Mae, and
anything or anyone else that would have led to me meeting you.” As the
words come out of my mouth, I realize it’s not nearly enough. I’m thankful
for so many things when it comes to Sawyer: her kindness, her generosity,
her confidence, her fierceness, her humor, her friendship...I could go on
forever. And that scares the shit out of me.
I stare at her, and she stares back at me. The sadness that was there a few
minutes ago dissipates. Lost in my thoughts of Sawyer, I miss the cheers
and next to me Brady has already started talking about what he is thankful
for.
“I’ll keep this short and sweet. I’m thankful for all of you, for my family,
and for Wild Times. As Logan said, it is ridiculous that we are lucky
enough that this is our job. I appreciate the constant challenge of the work.”
We all cheers and turn our attention to Wilder.
I’m surprised to find that he, too, seems a little nervous. His only tell is
the fidgeting of his hands as he grips his beer bottle with one and pulls at
the label with the other. I’m curious what has him rattled, as Wilder does
not lack confidence. And like me, he could talk to a brick wall. “I’ll start by
saying that I, too, am thankful for each of your friendships, whether we
have been friends for the past few months, a year, four years, or seven?” He
glances at Grey as he says that last part. Grey nods his head in
confirmation. Hell, I hadn’t realized that it had been that long for the two of
them. “Yeah, seven. Each of you has had a positive impact on my life,
whether or not you realize it. I don’t talk, umm, I don’t talk about my
divorce or my family much, neither are topics that bring me joy, so I choose
not to waste my energy on them. But, when I moved here, and started to
meet each of you and build friendships, for the first time I understood what
a family was supposed to be like. And it’s so very clear that the family I
was born into has nothing on this family. Thank you all for teaching me
what a genuine family is supposed to be like.” Wilder lets out a huff of
breath, but before anyone can cheers or respond to him, he continues. “I’m
also thankful for Preserve JT. It has given me purpose and allowed me to
pursue my passions while doing a bit of good. Speaking of,” he rubs his
hands together, “I’ve got big things planned for the coming year, and I’m
going to call in all the favors you each promised me. So get ready.”
Given the way Wilder ends his speech, it’s clear that he doesn’t want us
to dwell on his shitty family or ex-wife, so instead of commenting, we give
one final cheers. After the noise dies down, it’s quiet for a moment before
Denver quips, “Well, after that, I don’t need to go to therapy for a few
weeks. Or, I need it now more than ever.” He shakes his head. “Not sure
yet, I’ll get back to you.”
Everyone laughs, the ice broken. One by one, we get up from the table
and drift into the kitchen to clear the table, do the dishes, and put the food
away. Talk turns to Mae’s announcement and the excitement increases.
After we finish cleaning, together we go for a walk around the
neighborhood. We all need to move after a day of lying around and
overindulging.
I haven’t had a chance to get Sawyer alone yet, and this still isn’t the
time, but as we set out on our walk, I sidle up next to her, take her hand, and
intertwine our fingers. As a group, we walk at a leisurely pace and chatter
non-stop.
As we are walking, I’m hyperaware of everything taking place around
me. I’m experiencing one of those moments. The kind where I force myself
to stop and be present. To acknowledge that this is a moment I want to
remember. Not because we are talking about anything of import, but the
opposite. The conversation is about dumb shit, but I want to remember this
moment, this day. I have been surrounded by so many people I love, have
laughed until my face hurts, and shared it all with Sawyer. I want to bottle
up this day and save it - some combination of satisfaction and happiness.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite, but this Thanksgiving might
be at the top of the list.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
IT’S GOING TO BE a long day.
I don’t know if it’s the food hangover I’m sporting, the lack of sleep, or
this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can’t seem to leave behind. Oh,
or it could be because I’m working a twelve-hour day instead of my usual
eight, or that the holiday weekend seems to make people leave their
common sense behind. Whatever it is, I’m in for it today.
I realize I’m in a shitty mood and I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer all
day - or even for part of the day - but I’m having a rough time working my
way out of this mood. Mae and I are still working together for a few more
hours this morning. That alone already improves my outlook.
Because of the holiday weekend, staffing has been messed up and Mae
and I are heading out to assist the protection rangers. The protection rangers
differ from what Mae and I do in that they run the gambit of everything
from emergency medical services to law enforcement to firefighting. They
are badasses. From what I am told, other than rescuing hikers and climbers,
a majority of their time is helping visitors deal with the extremes of the
climate: heat exhaustion in the summer months and hypothermia in the
winter months. Many visitors come unprepared for the extremes this
climate presents.
With the holiday weekend, there is an increase in the demand for the help
of protection rangers’ time. So Mae and I are heading out to help with an
injured hiker. From the call that came in, it’s nothing serious, only a twisted
ankle, but they need help nonetheless. I’m not going to lie, I’m happy about
the change from my normal schedule - it’s a welcome distraction.
Mae and I drive until we see someone flagging us down. She parks and
we collect our stuff before getting out and follow the man waiting for us. I
go into ranger mode and all my earlier unease and negativity are forgotten.
No one is seriously injured. Mae wraps the man’s ankle and we assist him
back to his car. The entire process takes almost two hours and although I am
sweating up a storm, I can’t say that I hate it. It’s nice to help someone and
feel useful. In addition, the two men were kind and grateful for our help.
Once they are back in their car, Mae and I hop in the Jeep again and head
back to one of the visitor centers, albeit it is a different one from where she
and I are normally stationed. This one is on the opposite side of the park.
“Are you okay?” Mae’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
Still staring out the window, I reply, “Why do you ask?”
“Why do I ask? Don’t give me that shit. What’s going on?”
She glances at me for a second, but returns her eyes right back to the
road. “Sorry. I’m...I don’t know what I am. Let’s talk about you instead.
That was quite an announcement last night.”
“Yeah. There’s been no one serious in my life for a while now. There has
been no dating of anyone at all since Eric. I’ve been good with hooking up
with guys here or there, but I don’t know...lately, I’m over the hookups.
Being in a relationship is something I enjoy. I had forgotten how great it can
be until I saw you and Logan together —”
“Logan and I are not in a relationship.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes and I can’t even defend myself because there is
nothing to say. “Can I ask you one question, though? It’s not about Logan, I
promise.”
I shift in my seat so I am facing her and nod.
“When I made the announcement last night and everyone was going nuts,
you were quiet and didn’t seem as excited as everyone else. It made me…
insecure? Like I thought you didn’t like the idea or were judging me or
something.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “No. No, Mae. Not in the slightest. I love the idea of you
putting yourself out there and I think your plan is amazing—insane for
trusting the guys—but amazing.” I think for about half a second before
deciding to confide in Mae. “The reason I was acting weird is that with all
that talk about your announcement and Brady getting everyone to agree to
vote on people’s significant others—which is also insane—it made me
realize something. Logan and I have an expiration date. I don’t know when
it is, but it’s coming. And it’s going to hurt. That won’t come as a surprise.
Something I failed to consider—until last night—is that in the future, I’m
going to have a front-row seat to someone else he is with. Whether he is
hooking up with someone, has an actual girlfriend, or even gets married.”
My voice wobbles a bit on that last word. “I went into this thing between
Logan and I thinking I knew what I was getting myself into, but I hadn’t
considered that when it was all over, I would be forced to watch him with
someone else, talk to his significant other, welcome her into our friend
group, and bear witness to their relationship. I don’t think I can do that.”
Scrunching up my nose, I use every ounce of willpower in my possession
to maintain my composure enough to not cry, but barely.
Neither of us says anything for a few minutes.
Finally, I say, “I’m sorry if this is weird for you, being that you are both
of our friends.”
“Oh, no. No, Sawyer. It’s not that. Sorry if I was quiet there. I was trying
to process everything you said, and I wanted to say the right thing.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I reply. “I’m not mad at Logan. He
didn’t hurt me. It makes me sad and I’m not sure what to do with that
feeling.”
“Okay, here’s what I think. Take this advice or ignore it, it’s up to you.
First, you are in control of this situation. You have taken a bit of a back seat
in this relationship and are allowing Logan to call the shots. If that’s what
you want, fine. But remember, you are in control, too. Second, I think you
need to speak up. You two are great together and even though he said one
thing in the beginning, it’s clear that this thing you two have has changed
your feelings, so maybe it has changed his too. But, maybe it hasn’t and you
need to be prepared for that. Third, you can walk away. It sounds like you
are waiting around for him to end it and remember, it’s your job to protect
yourself and your heart. Do what’s best for you.”
Mae is quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I realize I said
nothing concrete there, but you are too smart to listen to other people
anyway. You will figure it out.”
I think about everything she said. It’s all good advice and when she says
it, it sounds so easy. Talk to Logan and tell him what I want. What do I
want?
Mae pulls into a parking space at the visitor center and before either of us
gets out, I pull her into a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper. “My life is so much
better with you in it.”
“Samesies,” she replies.
With everything Mae said swirling around my brain, I don’t see them
until the last second. When we get out of the car, we walk right into Logan
and an older couple who I can only assume are his parents, given their
similar features - his dad’s height, his mom’s hair, both of their athletic
builds. Coming as no surprise, they make an adorable couple, but I can’t see
anything past my hurt.
There are no words for what I am feeling. I was not expecting to see
them or to meet them. Logan was vague about their plans for the day, and I
hadn’t pushed it. I hadn’t pushed to meet them, because if that was
something he wanted, he would have said so.
And it’s clear from the extreme levels of awkwardness right now that he
did not want it. Nope, he did not want this at all.
“What are you two doing all the way out here?” Logan asks.
Ah. There it is. Mae and I almost never work out this way. He wanted to
bring his parents into the Park but planned on avoiding anywhere I
normally would be. It’s one thing to not meet them, but to avoid me, that
cuts a little deeper.
I don’t want to answer the question. Before, I hadn’t been mad at him for
not wanting to introduce me, but now? This is shitty. Next level shittiness.
Mae speaks, ignoring Logan’s question. “Mr. and Mrs. McGuire! So
great to see you again. I’m Mae. We met a year ago at Logan and Brady’s
house.”
“Ah, Mae. Yes! Great to see you. I almost didn’t recognize you in your
ranger uniform,” said Mrs. McGuire.
“What are you up to today?” asks Mae.
Logan’s dad responds this time, and it throws me for a second because
Logan sounds so much like him. “We went on one of Logan’s tours. He and
Denver gave the tour and Brady took it with us. It was great. And a lot of
fun to see this guy in action.” He throws his arm around Logan and pulls
him in close. It’s such a sweet moment that I can’t help but smile. Even if I
didn’t already know how close they are, it would be easy to tell from this
moment alone.
“Wow, you got Brady out on a hike. You two must be something special,”
Mae jokes. I fucking love her. I will thank her later for taking control of this
conversation and saving me.
Everyone laughs at that and Brady walks up at that moment, joining us
from wherever he had been. “We were just talking about you,” Mae says to
him.
His brow pinches, but doesn’t inquire about what. Instead, he says, “Mae.
Sawyer. This is a surprise.”
It’s silent for a moment and both of Logan’s parents’ sets of eyes shift to
me. I had avoided an introduction as long as possible, hoping that Logan
would step in and introduce me. It is crystal clear that will not happen, so I
step forward to offer my hand to his parents. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. McGuire.
I’m Sawyer. I’m another friend,” I gesture awkwardly to Brady and Logan.
Shit, pull it together. I attempt a normal smile, but most likely fail. “It’s nice
to meet you both. I have heard a lot about you both from these two.”
“Great to meet you too, Sawyer,” Logan’s dad says, shaking my hand.
Logan’s mom replies, “Yes, it is great. I love meeting more of Logan’s
friends - he never tells us anything.” She pats Logan on the arm.
I can’t hold back my laugh even as I inwardly cringe at that word.
Friends. Is that all I am to him? Am I the same as Mae? As Grey? “Well,
I’m kind of new around here, so I don’t know all the secrets yet, otherwise I
would share.” I want to scream and rage and cause a huge fucking scene. I
want Logan to acknowledge me. To claim me. To declare what I am to him.
But none of that happens. And it fucking guts me. My chest is squeezing so
tight.
Mae cuts in. “Sawyer and I have to get inside to relieve the other rangers,
so we have to cut this short, but it was great to see you both again. Enjoy
your day.” Thank God for her. I need to figure out a way to show my
appreciation for taking the wheel during this clusterfuck. Maybe I’ll cook
anything she wants for her all week.
Opting not to say anything else, I give a little wave to his parents. But
before turning to walk away, I catch his eye. I can’t read his expression, but
thinking about what Mae said earlier, at this moment, I don’t care. I don’t
care what he is thinking. Or what he is feeling. My heart hurts and I feel
like shit. And I don’t deserve that.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Eight
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
FUCK.
I need to go after her. I need to apologize. I need to make this right.
But, I can’t right now. How would I explain this to my parents? But even
more importantly, Sawyer is already inside. At her job.
It’s clear that not introducing her to my parents hurt her. She played it off
okay, but I have fucked up enough times with her now to know when she is
pretending everything is okay. And everything is not okay.
If I go inside now, it will cause a scene at her job and that is not what she
will want. She might be more angry with me for that than for what I did.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and open it to our text string.
Logan: I’m sorry. That was shitty. I’m so sorry. Can I explain tonight? I
would come in now, but I assumed you wouldn’t want me to while you’re
working.
She doesn’t answer right away, but she often doesn’t when she’s working,
so I put my phone away.
I hop into the truck where my parents and Brady are already and start
pulling out of the parking space. I’m about to shift into drive when my mom
breaks the silence. “So Sawyer seems nice. Were you ever going to tell us
about your girlfriend?”
I hit the gas a little too hard. “What?”
Brady loses it from the back seat where he is sitting with my dad. I see
him in the rearview mirror. “What did you tell them?”
Brady, still laughing, holds his palms up to me. “I didn’t say a word. I
swear.”
My mom makes a face. “Come on, Logan, we aren’t blind.”
I say nothing. I don’t discuss women with my family. Under normal
circumstances, it’s because the only women there are to discuss with them
since Kirsty is of the hooking up variety, and while my parents are cool, we
aren’t having that conversation.
”Is she your girlfriend?”
I grit my teeth. “No.” Brady can’t stop laughing. “She’s not.”
“Oh-kay.” She doesn’t even try to hide how entertained she is by this.
“She’s not. She’s a friend who...I’m not talking about this with you. With
all of you.” Why is this happening to me? Everything I say makes that
shithead in the back seat crack up even more.
“Fine, then. I won’t push it. But she seems like a smart, capable woman.”
“She is, but how can you get all of that from the two sentences she said?”
“I couldn’t, but you just confirmed it for me. So, thank you.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but it must have been
loud enough, judging from the slap on the back of the head I receive. Brady
wouldn’t be dumb enough to hit me, so I can only assume it was my dad.
Rubbing the back of my head, I ask, “Can we please talk about
something else?”
It’s quiet for a moment except for Brady’s chuckles, then my mom sighs.
“Fine. Brady, let’s talk about that beard. Are you giving Gandalf a run for
his money?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. While my mom is funny, I’m happy
something diverted the attention from me. I still feel like shit, though. I
deserve it. But, what should I have done? Explained to my parents that
Sawyer was my fuck buddy, or a friend that I hook up with? Not that I
would ever use either of those phrases with my parents, but even so, neither
of them is right for us anymore. She is something else. Something more. I
hope I haven’t fucked this up beyond repair.
A few hours later - after I have checked my phone no less than three
hundred times, I get a reply from Sawyer.
Sawyer: That was shitty.
Sawyer: It made me feel worthless.
I close my eyes and try to take a breath. I hate that I hurt her. I want to be
the one that protects her always, never the one causing harm.
Logan: I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back. Can I come over
tonight so I can better apologize and explain?
There is no reply for another hour. When my phone dings, I scramble to
get it open as quickly as possible.
Sawyer: Fine. I’ll be home at 7:30. It’s been a long day and I’m
exhausted, so you can only stay for a few minutes.
Logan: Thank you. I’ll see you then!
The exclamation point was probably unnecessary. But, whatever. She
agreed to at least hear me out. That’s something, isn’t it?
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Nine
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
I PURPOSEFULLY DON’T GET home until 7:35. It’s not a power play of
any kind. I need more time to clear my head and figure out what I want to
say to him. I’m pretty sure I know what he is going to say. When I get
home, I want to be clear about what I want to say. When I pull up to my
complex, my head is still a jumbled mess, so I drive around town to give
myself more time.
Once I am more confident, albeit nervous as hell, but sure of how I feel, I
steer my car towards home. Logan is waiting for me. As I pull up, he stands
up straight from where he’s leaning against the side of his truck and gives
me a little wave.
“Hey,” I say, slamming my car door and locking it.
I’ve never seen him so serious. This is not the first time we have had a
disagreement, but this is the first time one of us has hurt the other knowingly hurt the other. He knew. There was no question he knew that
what he was doing was going to hurt me. He chose...well, I’m not sure what
he chose over me, but it was something.
“Sawyer,” he starts.
I hold up a hand. “Let’s go inside. I’m not doing this out here.” I’m pretty
sure he thinks that means I am ending things between us. And because right
now, I’m still hurting and that turns me into a bit of a petty betty, I don’t
correct him. I walk into my townhouse without looking back at him.
As soon as I hear the door close behind him, he says, “I’m sorry,”
emotion clogging his voice.
I let out a breath and will the tears threatening to spill over to go away
before I turn around to him. I will not cry now. Taking a breath, trying to
first steady my voice, I say, “I’ll admit that at first when you were being
dodgy about your plans for when your parents came to town, I was a little
put out because you didn’t want to introduce me.” He starts to say
something, but I hold up my hand. “I’m not finished. I was a little put-out,”
I repeat, “but I understood. Whatever this is between us, you aren’t my
boyfriend, so even though I was a little hurt, I would have gotten over it.”
Logan opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off again. “I’m
still not done.” I need to say my piece before he says anything because if I
stop, I might not say everything on my mind. “But that was my mistake.
The hurt of you not wanting me to meet your parents was nothing compared
to how it felt to be standing in front of them and be treated like I don’t
matter to you. I didn’t consider that it would have been a lot less shitty to
have not met them at all. Hindsight, I guess.”
“Sawyer, I’m sorry.”
“You ignored me.”
“Sawyer -”
“You acted like I didn’t exist, or like you didn’t even know me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Like, I’m not important enough to warrant an introduction when I was
standing right fucking there.”
“No, Sawyer.” Logan runs a hand through his hair. “There is no good
explanation. It was shitty. And I fucked up. I hate that I hurt you. I
appreciate you being so forthright with me, so I’ll do the same.” He reaches
for my hand. I let him take it and he walks us over to the couch, where we
both take a seat. “I wasn’t planning on introducing you to my parents, not
because you aren’t important to me—of course, you are important to me.
But, because I wasn’t sure how to introduce you. It seems shitty to call you
my friend when you are so much more. But, I didn’t know how to define us.
We aren’t boyfriend, girlfriend or whatever, but we are more than fuck
buddies or friends with benefits, and I don’t want to get into that with my
parents. So I was planning on avoiding the situation. That was my first
mistake. I don’t know how I would have made it right, but I should have at
least talked through it with you.
I nod my head in agreement. “We seem to work well because we are
honest with each other. Please, just talk to me. Even if it is uncomfortable or
if you think it will hurt me, because I guarantee it will be worse to let it
fester.”
“Agreed,” he replies. “Then, as far as today was concerned, I panicked. I
wasn’t expecting to see you, then I was wracking my brain to find the right
words, and I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to be introduced as something
more than a friend, so I panicked some more. And, I’m a chickenshit. And I
was trying to protect you. It was this giant clusterfuck in my brain and I
fucked it up.”
“Protect me? From what?”
He sighs. “If I attempted to explain that we are friends with benefits or
whatever, I only saw that going badly. I thought it might embarrass you.
Also, my parents are cool, but they are older and everyone always judges
women more harshly in those situations. I didn’t want that for you.
Especially coming from my parents.”
Well, fuck me.
This man.
I don’t know what the right answer is here. I know what I want. I want to
forgive Logan and move on. But, is that what’s best for me? No idea, so all
I can do is to go with my gut. This was an impossible situation and even
though Logan made me feel like shit, I can see his intentions were good.
But intentions don’t matter. Or do they? Life would be so much easier if
everything was black and white without all these confusing shades of grey.
For the first time since he arrived here tonight, I give him a smile and
reach out to intertwine our fingers. “I appreciate that you not only
understand how men and women are treated differently, but acknowledge it.
That means a lot to me. A lot.”
“Sawyer, I don’t know that I would have thought of that a few months
ago, but based on the conversations we have and the reading I have been
doing, I think I have a better idea of it all now.” He shrugs his shoulders and
says, “I still have a lot to learn.”
The reading he is doing? So many questions are on the tip of my tongue,
but I want to stay on track, so I swallow them for the time being. How is it
that Logan admitting he has been educating himself on feminism,
misogyny, and sexism the sexiest thing ever? This guy could get by on his
charm, but that would be underestimating him. He’s fucking smart and a
good guy.
“We all have a lot to learn,” I tell him. “But,” I push him back on the
couch and straddle him. “But, for all of your hard work, I think you get a
prize.”
His hands find a home around my waist and he pulls us flush against
each other. “I like the way this sounds, especially if you are my prize.” He
tugs me down on him. “But, are we okay? I hurt you and I’m sorry.”
I brush one of his errant curls out of the way so I have an unobstructed
view of him. “We are good.” I kiss one of his cheeks. “It was a tough
situation and honestly, I can’t think of a way in which it would have played
out better.” I kiss his other cheek. “What I know is that my life is better
with you in it.” I bring my lips to his and kiss him. As I pull away, one of
his hands finds the back of my head, fingers running through my hair, and
pulls my lips back to his.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
I BRING HER MOUTH down on mine again, and I take my time. Our lips
touch, sliding over each other. I grip the sides of Sawyer’s face and kiss her
gently.
I must have apologized ten times by now, but I want her to know, to truly
know, how sorry I am. She means everything to me and I never want to hurt
her again. At that thought, something in the back of my mind reminds me
that in the future this will end, and in the best-case scenario, only one of us
gets hurt. I banish that thought and focus on kissing Sawyer.
Turning both of our heads to the side, I open my mouth, using my tongue
to ask her for permission. Sawyer opens her mouth, granting me permission
to slide my tongue into hers, deepening our kiss and claiming her. She rocks
against me and heat flares between us despite the many layers of clothing.
I pull back from her mouth enough to trail kisses down her chin, onto her
neck until I find the perfect spot where her neck meets her shoulder. And I
suck. And I lick.
Then she pulls away from me.
Trying to catch my breath, I look at Sawyer, checking that everything is
okay.
She is still straddling me on the couch but is sitting back on my legs. She
leans in for another kiss. “I want to be the type of person who can be in the
moment, but I can’t. It’s not me. I need to shower. I’m disgusting.
Somehow, I managed to both sweat my ass off and be cold today. I think I
have windburn, I’m covered in dirt, and I’m just gross.”
It’s such a Sawyer statement. I tug her towards me again and whisper.
“Sounds hot. Tell me more.”
Laughing, she gets up off of me and says, “I promise it will only be five
minutes.” She starts down the hallway towards the bathroom before
stopping. “You can get comfy in my room, but don’t start without me.”
Then she turns, but must think better of it. “Unless you want to join me?”
I stand up so quickly I almost fall over and Sawyer giggles at me. I close
the distance between us, and then go in for a kiss, but instead fake her out
and then squat down, so I can throw her over my shoulder in a firefighter’s
carry.
“Logan!” she yelps.
I don’t say a word, only smack her ass as I carry her into her room and
towards her bathroom. After ignoring her protests and idle threats to be put
down, she attempts to slap my ass as well, but from the way I’m jostling her
around, she gets more of my lower back than anything. “Shit, Sawyer.”
“Sorry,” she says, laughing.
“Real heartfelt.” I dip down so I can slide her down off my body, taking
care to make sure she doesn’t miss one hard inch of me as she slides down
to the ground. Her breath catches and I can’t hide my smirk.
Taking a step back from me, she reaches into the shower to turn the water
on. Turning back to me, she unbuttons her uniform shirt. I have seen
Sawyer in her work uniform many, many times now and while I still would
never claim to think it was sexy on its own, right now with Sawyer
stripping out of it, I’m not sure I have ever seen anything hotter.
When she is down to her bra and underwear, she stops. “What are you
waiting for?”
“Just enjoying the show, beautiful.”
She shakes her head at me and then reaches back to unclasp her bra. “Let
me,” I say from where I’m leaning against the vanity. I pull her toward me
and am pleased to see she is as affected by me as I am by her. With each
heave of her chest, the tops of her breasts come up a little higher, a little
closer to me. And my mouth. While I reach behind her to unclasp her bra
myself, I bring my mouth down, nipping at her with my mouth as I use my
hands to remove her bra. When it drops to the ground, I use both hands to
feel the heaviness of her tits.
My tongue darts out and I lap at her nipple, causing Sawyer to tighten the
grip she has on my biceps while throwing her head back and moaning. I let
out an audible sigh as I pull her nipple into my mouth, using my teeth to
dance on the line between pleasure and pain that I know drives her crazy.
Sawyer’s hands find my hair as I move my attention from one nipple to
the other. “We, ah, we b-better get in before it’s done. Before the hot water
is empty. Gone. Before the hot water runs out. Fuck, you fried my brain.”
Pulling my face back from her chest, I motorboat her. Because, why not?
Then I stand up and start stripping down as well.
When we both get in the shower, she adjusts the temperature and there
are a few awkward moments as we both navigate the small space and try to
huddle under the showerhead. “Yeah, not a great shower for two people,”
she says.
I pull her into me, but with my cock at full mast and pressing against her
stomach, it’s not all that close. “It’s perfect,” I tell her. “And sorry about
that, kinda, but not really,” I say, gesturing down to my dick.
Sawyer reaches out to encircle my cock, but I stop her. “Remember a few
minutes ago when you said you were trying to be in the moment, but
couldn’t, because you needed to shower? Well, shower sex is like that for
me. Shower sex sounds great in theory, but I’m always nervous someone is
going to fall and get hurt and as a result I can never quite concentrate
enough. Is it okay if we get clean and go back to your room? Or, I’m happy
to make you come in here?” I don’t want to be a buzzkill, but I can’t with
shower sex. If we had a huge ass shower with a bench in it or something,
then it might work, but not in this tiny thing.
Sawyer rests her palms on my chest. “Let’s get clean and get in bed.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as she opens up the cap of a bottle of shampoo.
“Don’t be,” she replies as she squirts (gross, that word) it into her hand.
Rubbing her hands together, she brings them up to me and massages it into
my hair. My cock twitches and I’m legit nervous I’m going to blow my load
on her right now because it’s so fucking good.
“Ohhhhavugumd.” She starts scratching my scalp with her fingers and I
think I see stars.
“Close your eyes,” she directs as she pulls me under the stream of water.
After rinsing my hair out, she rubs in conditioner and gives me a little more
of a head scratch. It’s both soothing and erotic. I’m relaxed and almost
painfully turned on at the same time.
I’m torn between never wanting this to end and throwing her over my
shoulder again so we can go to her room and get to the good stuff. But, first,
I need to wash her hair. As I start to, I’m surprised that the act of washing
her hair has me as turned on as much as it did to have her do it to me.
I turn her around so her back is to my front. I act like it’s so I can better
wash her hair, but we both know it’s so I can shamelessly rub my cock
against her perfect ass. She is more than okay with it, as she uses that ass to
rub up against me as well.
The second I have rinsed everything out of her hair, she shuts the water
off. “C’mon.” Sawyer’s as turned on as I am and can’t wait any longer. Just
to fuck with her, and maybe to drag out her pleasure a little longer. I lock
my arms around her, not letting her move as I grind into her and leave little
bite marks up and down the column of her neck.
“Stop torturing me.” I release her and she gets out, getting us each a
towel. We each take a minute to dry ourselves off, but then our eyes catch.
Sawyer drops her towel to the ground and reaches for the towel around my
waist. Once it has joined hers on the floor, she winks at me and then turns
and walks into her bedroom.
Before she gets on the bed, I spin her around so she’s in my arms and
push her down onto the bed, and climb on top of her. Sawyer’s breathing
changes when she is getting close and, without a doubt, it will not take
much to push her over the edge.
Using my fingertips, I skated a hand down her body until I get to her
legs. I spread her knees out, hook her legs over my shoulders, bring my
mouth to her, and feast on her.
Sawyer seems to be past the point of talking, but she’s communicating
just fine with the way her hips are bucking up off the bed and the way she
has one hand buried in my hair and the other caressing her tits. I stop for a
moment to take her all in. She’s so fucking beautiful. Sometimes it
overwhelms me how we went from that first meeting in a parking lot where
I wanted to not only protect her, but was also inexplicably drawn to her, to a
moment like this.
“What? Why did you stop?” I love teasing her, making her beg, but I
decide not to mess with her further and get back to it. As my tongue slides
through her folds, lapping up her arousal, I use my thumb to rub her clit. It
almost immediately does the trick as Sawyer’s legs tighten up around me.
“Logan. Ohhhh, Logan. Yes. That. Don’t stop.”
I continue to stroke her through her orgasm as aftershocks leave her
quaking on the bed. I give her a minute to come back to it as I rain kisses
down her body. As Sawyer comes back to, she surprises me by yanking me
up toward her as she simultaneously slides down the bed.
Before I know it, my cock is in her mouth, and she’s gripping my ass,
pulling me further down her throat. I allow myself to get lost in the moment
for a second as I thrust into her mouth and it feels so fucking good that I
pull out. I don’t want to come with her lips around me though, because as
good as that sounds, I want to bury my cock in her.
Remembering something, I pause. “I promised I wouldn’t be without a
condom from now on, but I didn’t bring any tonight as I had no intention of
this happening.”
“No problem. There’s more on the nightstand.”
I reach over, find a condom, and roll it on in record time. “Will you ride
me?” I ask. She likes that better than missionary and so do I as I get to see
her better and watch her tits bounce.
In response, Sawyer pushes me over and climbs on top of me. In one
quick motion, she guides my cock to her opening and then slides down it
until I’m fully seated in her. Pleasure shoots up my body, but instead of
chasing my orgasm, I decide to slow it down.
I grip her hips and slowly, so slowly, move her up and down on my cock
as I roll my hips as well. It feels...it feels amazing.
While the light in Sawyer’s bedroom is off, the room is bright from the
light streaming in from the bathroom. Sawyer’s dark brown hair is still
soaked and plastered against her head. She’s fucking gorgeous. And hot as
well. And mine. Sawyer is mine.
I pull her down closer to me so I can suck the droplets of water that have
dripped down from her hair and are resting on her nipples.
Sawyer continues to slide up and down my cock, each movement
bringing me closer and closer. I tell her how close I am. She slides a hand
down and starts massaging her clit and a few seconds later, she says, “I’m
right there too.” A few moments later, my spine stiffens up and I come with
a grunt. She continues riding for me another few seconds before finding her
orgasm as well.
We are both sweaty, satiated messes.
A little while later, after we get cleaned up, get food, and go for another
round, we lay entangled together, still naked. Sawyer tries to stifle a loud
yawn.
“Long day?” I ask. Then I cringe because a good portion of that is my
fault.
“Yep,” she replies.
“Was it an okay day, though? Other than my contributions to it, I mean.”
Sawyer lets out a laugh. “You contributed quite a bit today. I was tired
from lack of sleep last night - no complaints about that though. Then, I was
emotionally drained from our run-in earlier today. Then, after more orgasms
than I can count since arriving home, it’s safe to say that I’m drained, and
you played a large part of it.” She picks her head up from where she had
been laying in the crook of my arm. “That’s not a passive-aggressive way to
make you feel bad again. It’s the truth.”
“I know.” And I do. If Sawyer said she forgives me, she won’t throw it in
my face again. Plus, I asked.
“But,” she continues, “It wasn’t all about you. I was dealing with the
same sexist shit today and it came on a day where I had zero fucks left to
give.” Her face and neck redden. “I didn’t filter my responses to some park
visitors as well as I should have, and Jameson reprimanded me. I was pissed
at you, pissed at the visitors, and pissed at myself because I let them get to
me.” Sawyer lets out a sigh and runs a hand through her now combed hair.
“I pride myself on remaining calm and not giving assholes an opportunity
to call me an ‘emotional woman.’ And I did not do that today.”
I tug her in close to my chest, wrapping both arms around her. “Are you
in deep shit with Jameson?”
“No. But, you know how I’m a rule follower, so my boss reprimanding
me doesn’t sit well.”
“I’m sorry it was a shitty day and for my role in it.”
Sawyer roles over so she is on top of me and props herself up on her
elbows so we are face to face. “Thank you. You are also the best part of my
day, so I guess it all evens out somehow.”
“You’re the best part of my day, too.” And I mean it. Even on a day
where I got to hang out with my parents and Brady, being here with Sawyer
is better than all of that. Once that thought settles in, it officially scares the
shit out of me.
Not wanting to give it another thought, I change the subject. “Can I ask a
question?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not sure this is going to come out right the first time, so please let
me explain myself if it doesn’t.”
“Ooooh-kay.”
I pause, trying to get confirmation again.
She rolls her eyes. “Enough with the buildup. Ask it.”
“If being treated with the respect that you deserve is so important to you,
why do you have a career that seems to be a pit of sexism? Both from
dealing with visitors to the park, and from the reading I have been doing, it
seems women in the National Parks Service are forced to deal with a lot of
shit.” I started rambling a bit there, but I think she gets the idea.
Sawyer is quiet for a bit before she answers. “Because I can take it. If I
couldn’t, I would have to figure out how to fight back in another way. There
are so many ways to fight against misogyny and the patriarchy, and we all
have to do it in a way that works for us, none of them being any better than
others. Sure, I could work for a feminist brand where it’s female lead and
the bulk of employees are female, but I’m needed here. Plus, this is what I
want to do.”
“That makes sense,” I tell her. “It just seems like, it seems like sometimes
it’s a lot.”
“It’s a lot to be a woman all the time. I can only imagine what it’s like to
be a woman of color or LGBTQ+ woman, then it’s even more.”
“I worry about you.”
She squeezes my hand. “I appreciate that. I worry about you too.”
Me?” I say. “Why?”
Sawyer shrugs her shoulders. “No specific reason. I worry about
everyone I care about.” She yawns again, drifting off to sleep. I pull her in
close again, but I can’t respond. I care about her too. Maybe even more.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-One
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
“YOU ARE EITHER INSANE or a fucking genius.”
“Why can’t it be both?”
Both Mae and I burst out laughing at her question. “Seriously though,
I’m excited for you. The more I think about it, I don’t think you are crazy
for letting the guys - and me, of course! - set you up with someone. I think
you are a badass.”
Mae catches my eye through the mirror where she is examining her the
latest outfit she is trying on. “Why badass?”
“You are brave. Dating is the worst. No, scratch that, first dates are the
worst. And you signed up for a bunch of them. Sorry, I don’t mean to be a
Debbie Downer.”
“No worries. Besides, I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve been
avoiding dating and I want to start, but as much of a feminist as I consider
myself, I hate approaching guys and asking them out. Guys shouldn’t hold
all the power with asking someone out. I do believe that. And I am still a
total chickenshit with asking guys out. So, I’m sidestepping that problem
and asking to be set up. Then, I won’t worry about that initial rejection, but
I can still sleep at night because I won’t be a shitty feminist.”
Being a shitty feminist is familiar territory for me. My entire relationship
or non-relationship with Logan, I’ve been a shitty feminist.
“Sawyer.” I snap my head back over to where Mae is standing. “Where
did you go there? Everything okay?”
“Yep. Everything is wonderful. What did you ask?”
“You seem a little off.”
I shrug my shoulders and try to play it off. This is Mae’s night. I don’t
want to talk about myself. “Nope. Everything’s good.” Trying to change the
subject, I say, “I can’t believe that for your first date, you are going out with
someone that Denver set you up with!” While the sentiment is true, my
voice pitches a little high, giving away that I’m trying a too hard.
Half-dressed, Mae takes a seat on her bed, next to the spot I claimed
when she put me in charge of providing feedback on her first date outfits.
“Want to talk about it?” asks Mae.
Yes. I do. But, I don’t know what to say. I can’t even pinpoint my exact
problem - I’m just out of sorts. “I’m sorry,” I say. “This is supposed to be
fun and I’m bringing all my negative energy. Sorry for being a terrible
friend.”
“Hey. You aren’t a terrible friend, and you need to be nicer to my friend
Sawyer. What’s going on with you? If everything is okay? Is it your family?
Did something happen at work? Is it Logan?”
I scrunch up my face. “It’s Logan,” I admit.
“Damn it. What did he do this time?” she asks.
This makes me laugh. “Nothing. He did nothing. After our fight, when
his parents were in town, things changed. At least for me.” I put it out there
and let it sit for a moment, trying to get the courage to finish explaining.
“So you want to end things with him?”
“What? No. Not even close. I - I’m in love with him. I love him. I’m in
love with Logan.” After I speak my truth, I drop my head into my hands.
And I can’t hold back the tears.
“Oh, Sawyer,” I hear Mae murmur. I roll so I’m facedown on her bed, my
hands covering my face as I cry. The bed shifts as she moves closer to me
and rubs my back. “It’s okay. Let it out.” I cry until there are no tears left.
When I pick my head up, concern is etched on Mae’s face. “Do you want to
talk about it?” she asks.
“There’s not much to say,” I tell her. “Logan and I are supposed to be
friends with benefits or whatever. He has time and time again made it clear
that he won’t do anything serious. I have tried to honor that. I swear I have.
But I’m done lying to myself. I don’t know what changed or when, but
something did and I can’t pretend anymore. I love him.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“What?”
Mae lets out a laugh. “Sawyer, everyone knows.”
My chest tightens, and my body heats up. “How does everyone know?”
“Spend two minutes with you two and anyone will realize you are
grossly in love with each other.” She can see I don’t believe her, so she
adds, “Seriously, it’s disgusting. And kind of cute. But, gross.”
I shake my head because that isn’t right. “No. I’m in love with him, but
he is not in love with me.”
“Look, you are intelligent and are often right, but in this case, you could
not be more wrong. Logan is in love with you.”
Mae stares me down, like that will get me to believe her. I don’t and I do.
He has been clear with me time and time again that this wouldn’t be
anything more. But, from the second we started hooking up, he has been
acting like this is a relationship in everything but name. I have had a few
semi-serious relationships and not one of those guys was even as close to as
attentive and considerate as Logan is. My sex life has always been decent to
pretty good, but it’s different with Logan. Better, more intimate. Everything
about this relationship is better than it has been in the past. Except that he
doesn’t want to be in a relationship. And that’s the crux of it.
If our roles were reversed, it would piss me off if Logan didn’t listen to
what I said, and assumed to know me better than I know myself.
My tears start falling again. “What am I going to do? If I tell Logan I’m
in love with him, he’s going to end this so fast. But keeping my feelings to
myself feels like a lie. Plus, I’m a shitty actress and it will take him all of
five seconds to figure out that something is up.” And above all, I owe it to
him, to be honest. I owe it to myself as well. This is going to hurt, but I
need to do it.
“What are you going to do?” Mae asks.
“I guess I’ll tell him.” But the thought has my stomach rolling, knowing
that this will likely end things between us.
And I plan on telling him, but when Mae leaves for her date, I call him
and he doesn’t answer. Later, he calls me on his way home from work, and I
try. I do. I invite him over, but he has already made plans with Denver to go
out for a drink. He invites me, but I decline. I don’t trust myself to act
normal and I don’t want Denver to witness any of it.
Later that night, Logan climbs into bed with me because he has a key.
I’ve never given a boyfriend a key to my place. And when we exchanged
keys a few weeks ago, it wasn’t a big deal. I did it because it felt right. It
made total sense logistically to give him a key to my place and vice versa.
I listen as Logan brushes his teeth in the bathroom with the toothbrush
we designated as his and as he navigates my bedroom in the dark. He fits
here. It feels like home with him here.
I pretend to be asleep as he climbs into bed, spooning me. I want to savor
this feeling—the comfort, the ease, the sense of belonging. As his breathing
evens out and he drifts off to sleep, I concentrate on his touch, his hand on
my hip. I concentrate on his chest pushed up against my back, the warmth
that emanates from his body. I concentrate on each of those feelings.
And as I drift off to sleep, I do the most dangerous thing for my heart. I
allow myself a bit of hope. That maybe Logan has changed. That maybe
he’s in love with me. That maybe this won’t be the end.
In the morning, I wake up with one hand up my shirt and the other down
my shorts. Except, they aren’t my hands. And they are setting my body on
fire first thing in the morning. “Good morning, beautiful.” Logan pulls my
back tight against his chest. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Liar.”
Not the worst way to wake up. He laughs softly as one hand zeroes in on
my nipple and the others furthers its descent beneath the waistband of my
sleep shorts. I push back against him, grinding my ass against his hard cock.
“Mhhmmhmhm,” is the only sound I manage. Logan once again laughs
in my ear as he trails kisses up and down the side of my neck.
I lay there for a moment, soaking in his touch, but not wanting to be a
lump on a log and not being able to resist getting my hands on him, I roll
away from him on the bed. Then I jump on him, pinning him to the bed and
adjusting my body so I’m laying directly on top of him. Our bodies are
lined up, and sinking down on top of him is both comforting and electric.
Logan snakes his arms around me and pulls me down even tighter against
him.
I drop my head down and I kiss him. We have shared hundreds of kisses,
but I make it a point to cherish every last one. His tongue licks the seam of
my lips, requesting entry, and I open for him. As we deepen the kiss, I shift
my right leg to straddle one of his legs, allowing me to shamelessly rub
myself on him.
“You need more, babe?” Dropping his hands to my ass, he pulls me
against him and the friction on my clit about does me in. He has rendered
me speechless, other than a few incoherent mumblings that pass through my
lips.
Our sexual chemistry is off the charts. With him, the second we are
within spitting distance of each other, we are off to the races, a competition
to get each other off, and ourselves off, in the process. But today, with me
on top of him like this, it’s different. It’s a slow and steady build. I may be
on top, but right now, he is the one in control as his hands grasp my ass
cheeks and slowly, so slowly, move me up and down on his thigh. I try to
pick up the pace, seeking my release and Logan is aware of what I am
doing as he whispers in my ear, “Not yet, beautiful. You don’t get to come
until my mouth is on you.”
I shudder at his words and squirm once again. “Then please get your
mouth on me...right fucking now.” I try to stay calm, but I need him, his
mouth on me.
Logan laughs and I start to roll off of him. “Nope. I’m in charge right
now. You aren’t going anywhere.” It’s torture, and it turns me on, especially
the timbre of his voice when he whispers. It’s a Logan that only I get to
experience.
It’s clear that he is enjoying every moment of my torture. But before I
can protest, he pushes my hips up so that I’m kneeling, still straddling him.
He tugs down my sleep shorts and there’s a couple of seconds of ridiculous
gymnastics as he takes my shorts off while I try to hover above him.
Once I’m naked down below, he demands, “Hold on to the headboard.”
Then he slides down on the bed until his face is between my legs and fucks
me with his tongue. One of his hands grips my ass, holding me where he
wants me and the other comes around to the front where uses his thumb to
rub my clit.
He’s everywhere, and it’s perfect and it’s too much. Trying not to buck
my hips against his face from this position is difficult, but not wanting to
smother him wins out. Still, I quickly lose myself in my impending orgasm.
I was already about there before he went down on me.
“So close. Keep doing that,” I pant out as I ride his face. Releasing my
grip on the headboard, I rip my tank top off over my head. I grab the
headboard with one hand and pinch one of my nipples with the other. It
pushes me over the edge and, “That’s it. Don’t stop. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
The intensity of my orgasm makes my body tighten up, and I ride out the
orgasm. I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing stars. I take a minute to find my
words as I’m having trouble piecing them together. “Holy shit,” is the best
that I can do.
Once I’m able to pull it together, I move my way down Logan’s body,
kissing and nibbling and biting as I go. “That. Was. Amazing. You. Are.
Amazing.” I’m still kissing my way down his body as I pull his boxer briefs
off. Not wasting any time teasing him, I close my lips around his rock-hard
cock. I’m only there for about two seconds before he pulls me up.
“I may have been trying to torture you, but I was torturing myself as
well. In you. Now.” Logan grunts out the last three words.
He rolls on a condom before flipping me onto my back. “You good like
this?” He asks. In response, using my grip on his ass and I pull him down to
me. Hooking his arm around the back of one of my knees, he pulls me even
wider apart and sinks into me. I’m still so wet that he glides into me to the
hilt.
“Fuckkkk, Sawyer. You are so perfect.” Logan pulls back enough so that
we can see each other and something passes between us. I’ve always been
happy and safe and satisfied with Logan, but this is different. Right now, I
feel cherished.
Then he moves, and it’s everything. Every inch of him as he pulls out and
then slams into me. Out and in. Out and in. Each time harder and deeper
than the previous thrust. Once again, he’s turning me into a horny mess as I
crave more.
“Faster.” I choke out. “Give me more. Harder.”
Logan flips us. “Ride me. I want to see those beautiful tits of yours.”
Logan grips my hips, assisting me as I rise over him and then sink down
the length of his cock, repeatedly. “I’m about there, babe. You close?”
I am. So close. “Just about…” I trail off as Logan draws circles around
my clit with this thumb and I’m done. Completely falling apart, I slow
down as I come. Logan lets out a feral grunt and stills below me.
We lock eyes again, except for this time, it’s me on top. He’s giving me
that look again. I’m still not sure what it is, or what it means, but it’s there.
And I like it. Who the fuck am I trying to fool? I love it. I love him. And
then it all comes flooding back - that I promised myself I was going to be
truthful with him. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to gather the
courage and find the correct words. But, when I open my mouth, instead of
admitting my feelings, I say, “Good Lord. You are ruining me for all other
men. No one else will compare.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I want to
take it back.
Logan doesn’t seem to mind. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leans
in and kisses me. “That’s the plan.” Logan jumps out of bed and says, “I
have a tour starting in an hour. I gotta go.”
I’m a complete mess. I’m supposed to be telling him I’m in love with
him, and as much as I’m determined to do that, I’m a little distracted by
how he woke me up this morning. And now, his response to my comment is
throwing me off my game even more. When Logan comes back in the room
after taking a quick shower, I ask, “Are you free to do something tonight?”
Tonight will be perfect. It will give me today to figure my shit out and then
I can talk to him once I have my wits about me. And when I’m not naked.
“Uh, there’s the thing at Wilder’s tonight.”
Shit. I forgot. Wilder invited our friends and a few other people over to
work on his ideas for Preserve JT. “Oh, yeah. It slipped my mind.”
“Wow.”
“What?” I ask.
“I must be stepping up my sex game if I got Sawyer Gaines to forget
something.”
“Don’t say ‘sex game.’”
He laughs at me. “Gotta go.” One more kiss for me and he’s out of here.
After I hear the front door close behind Logan, I lay back down in my
bed and pull the covers up to my chin. Thankfully, I have the day off.
Hopefully, it will give me time to get this all sorted out. Then again, with no
plans for the day, it may play on repeat in my brain all day long.
After a few more minutes, I get out of bed and find a notebook and
pencil. Sometimes, it helps me to write out the mess circling in my head.
What do I want? To tell Logan what he means to me.
What does he mean to me? I’m in love with Logan and don’t want to
hide it. I want to be with him for real.
What’s the worst that can happen? Logan ends things because this is not
what we agreed upon.
What’s the best? Logan feels the same for me, and we start an actual
relationship.
What’s the alternative? I stay quiet about my feelings and feel like shit
because I’m hiding something from him.
When I write it all out, it’s simple. I’ll tell Logan that while the deal was
friends with benefits, that’s no longer the case for me. I’m in love with him.
Then, I deal with the consequences. That’s the only way. I feel like my heart
is breaking already, anyway. If I don’t do it soon, I’ll drive myself crazy
wondering how much time he and I have left or I’ll try to interpret every
little thing he says or does for a sign of his feelings. Nope. I can’t do that.
I’ll invite him over tonight after Wilder’s and then I will tell him.
Somehow, I pass the hours of the day. I go grocery shopping and cook a
meal so that I can eat leftovers later in the week. I promised Wilder I would
bring a couple of desserts tonight, so that kills part of the day as well. After
a workout and a cleaning of my place, I get ready for Wilder’s.
I have been going non-stop all day in an attempt to not think. I have been
somewhat successful, but something Logan said this morning is bothering
me. When I joked he was ruining me for any future guy, he appeared
satisfied by that. It took me a while to figure it out, but that pisses me off.
He has made it clear that he doesn’t want a relationship with me, but he has
no problem not wanting me to be with other men in the future. What in the
actual fuck? He can’t have it both ways.
Suffice to say, my day of not thinking about everything goes to hell when
I come to this realization. I wish I could fast forward to later tonight. I don’t
want to go to Wilder’s and pretend that everything is okay. If I could bail on
tonight, I would. But I won’t do that to Wilder.
I’m feeling too much at once and am not doing a great job of sorting
through it all. But, it’s time to get ready, so I head to my room to finish
getting dressed, but I can’t shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach that
this is the beginning of the end.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Two
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
SOMETHING’S UP WITH SAWYER. She is trying to play it off, but she’s
the world’s worst actress, so it’s clear. I don’t think I pissed her off, but
she’s...distant. I wrack my brain, but everything was good when I left her
place this morning, and given that we haven’t exchanged more than a
couple of texts today, I’m coming up empty.
I have tried to talk to her a few times, to inquire what’s eating at her, but
she brushes me off. Not that I blame her given that we are in a house full of
people. It will have to wait until tonight. I hope she is okay. I hope we are
okay.
Our entire group of friends is here, and Wilder invited about twelve other
people as well. I’ve met a few of them before and the rest seem decent
enough, but I wish it was only my friends here. Normally, in situations like
this, our group counts on me to pick up the slack where Grey and Brady
leave off, but I’m not up to it tonight. I’d rather sit in a corner and be antisocial. Neither of those two like talking much and, for sure, not in crowds
of people they don’t know. Wilder is working the crowd like he was born
for this, straddling that line between charming and leaving no question he is
in charge. Mae and Denver are talking with a group of people. I can only
imagine how that is going, considering the pair of them are such dipshits
and love to be over the top. Steering clear of them, I head to the kitchen to
get a beer.
This will be the only one for me tonight as I’m working in the morning,
but I have earned it after exchanging chit-chat with people over the past few
hours. I’ve taken a sip of beer when a woman walks into the kitchen. There
is something familiar about her, but I’m coming up empty. What’s her
name? She’s the daughter of wealthy benefactors to Preserve JT and she’s
around my age. I think.
“Hey,” I say, smiling at her. I start to walk out of the kitchen when she
reaches out to touch my arm, stopping me.
“It’s Logan, right?” she asks. She’s still holding on to my arm.
I take a step back and say, “Right. Sorry, I’m blanking. What’s your name
again?”
“Liz,” she replies with a predatory smile. Yeah, I need to get out of here
now. I recognize that look. I see it way too often on the female clients who
are interested in more than a tour. Best to remove myself from this situation
as quickly as possible. This woman is pretty, I guess. She’s not my type,
though. These days, anyone who isn’t Sawyer isn’t my type.
Liz takes a step closer. I take another step back. She giggles like this is a
game. Maybe to her, it is, but I want to get the fuck out of here. “Are you
here with anyone?” she asks.
It’s clear what she is getting at, but I play dumb. “Some of my friends are
here.”
She giggles at silly little me. “No, I mean, do you have a girlfriend?”
Do I have a girlfriend? No, technically, I don’t have a girlfriend. I want to
lie and say that I do, but I can’t. Through everything with Sawyer, I have
been clear that we are not boyfriend and girlfriend. No matter what I feel
for her. The second we become boyfriend and girlfriend, shit will change,
and then it will fall apart. So I can’t claim her as my girlfriend now, just
because it’s convenient.
“No, no girlfriend,” I say.
Then, I’m not sure what happened next, except that Liz must have taken
that admission as a green light because she sidles up even closer to me,
dragging one finger down my arm.
“Gotta go,” I tell her. “Wilder is calling for me.” I turn and walk towards
the door leading to the front hallway. And Sawyer is standing right there.
Fuck.
What did she hear? Or see?
Wait. I did nothing wrong.
Did I?
It’s clear that she thinks I did. Fuck up that is.
Sawyer turns and walks towards the front door, stopping only to grab her
purse off a hook and leave her drink on a table. She’s got the door flung
open and is walking through it before I snap out of it and follow her
outside, running to catch up to her.
She is almost to her car door when I catch her and squeeze between her
and the door she is trying to open.
“What’s going on? Talk to me, Sawyer.”
“What’s going on? What’s going ON? Fuck you. That is what’s going
on.” She gestures back towards the house and I’m sure to Liz. “Please
move.”
“No.”
“No?” She might kill me right now, but I’m not letting her leave here
until we resolve this.
“Not until we talk about this.”
“Fine. Let’s talk then. What was going on in the kitchen?”
“She was hitting on me and I was trying to escape.”
Sawyer scrunches up her face before asking, “Am I not worth
acknowledging?” Her voice cracks and her head drops. My heart squeezes.
I keep doing this to her. We aren’t even in a relationship, but somehow I
keep hurting her repeatedly. She’s too good for that. She deserves better.
I’ve been a selfish bastard, keeping her for myself when I know full well
that this isn’t going anywhere. Even though I have been clear with her so
she would know what she was getting into.
I close the distance between us and reach for her hand. Surprisingly, she
doesn’t pull back. “Sawyer.” This time it is my voice that cracks. I try
again. “Sawyer. I said nothing untrue to Liz. I don’t have a girlfriend. You
are, of course, worth acknowledging, but we are not in a relationship and
you are not my girlfriend.” The words sound shitty on the way out, but they
need to be said. I can’t string her along anymore.
Then, the Sawyer I know and love is back. “I know I’m not your
girlfriend. You have made that abundantly clear. But, I’m worth
acknowledging. I’m worth a mention, at the very least. First, your parents
and now a random woman.” She takes a deep breath and goes on. “You
want to know what else has become abundantly clear? I thought you were a
good guy, but I was wrong. So wrong. Turns out that you are either an
asshole or an idiot.”
Sawyer lets out a huff and stares me down. I can see the hurt I have
caused. She’s trying to cover it up, but it’s not working. But I can also see
her fighting back. I stay silent. I’ll let her call me a few names if it makes
her feel better.
Sawyer is not happy with my silence. “So, which is it? Are you purposely
leading me on, or do you not realize we are in a relationship?” This time,
Sawyer takes a step closer to me. “Newsflash, we are in a relationship. Or
were, whatever. You can keep playing pretend all you want, but we have
been in a relationship for a while now.” She ticks off reasons on her fingers.
“We are exclusive. We spend the night at each other’s houses. We hang out
even when we aren’t hooking up. We cuddle. The list goes on and on.”
I still say nothing. There is nothing I can say to make this right. She’s
wrong. We aren’t in a relationship because I don’t do relationships. You
can’t be in one if you don’t want to be - if you don’t agree to it. I wrack my
brain, trying to figure out what to say because my silence is pissing her off,
but I come up empty.
Sawyer is staring at me, waiting for a response. After a bit, she sighs,
turning away from me. She brings her hands to her head and walks away a
few steps before turning back, walking back over to me and saying, “It
doesn’t even matter which one you are - an idiot or an asshole. Because the
truth that I haven’t wanted to face is me being around you makes me act
like a loser. The girl willing to take whatever scraps you offer as opposed to
taking what I deserve, which is everything. You can continue being an
asshole or idiot. I don’t care anymore. But I’m done being a loser. We are
done.”
Sawyer reaches for her car door, which I’m still standing in the way of.
There are no words to fix this, so I take a step away, allowing her to get in
the car. I watch her as she pulls away, hoping that she will change her mind,
but she doesn’t.
I stand there for a minute, watching her car until she turns down a street
and I can no longer see her. I think I’m numb. I’m not sad. I’m not angry.
I’m not relieved. I just keep standing there. All I can think of is, of course it
ended like this. I knew it would, and it did.
A voice clears from somewhere behind me, and I turn to find Grey
standing about twenty feet away. “I was coming to get you...Wilder wants
us inside for something.” He doesn’t acknowledge the shit show he
witnessed. He doesn’t have to, as his disappointment in me is radiating off
of him. It’s palpable. But, I don’t feel that either.
I follow Grey into Wilder’s house, where everyone is gathered in the
family room and Wilder is about to start a presentation. I go through the
motions. I pretend to pay attention. I pretend to be interested and
entertained. I pretend to care. I have no clue what the presentation is about
and as the talking starts up at the conclusion of it, I use the opportunity to
slip out. Once I’m in my truck, I start a new group text - this one without
Sawyer on it.
Logan: Sorry to bail, but Sawyer and I ended things tonight. I had to get
out of there. Wilder - I’ll make it up to you - sorry.
I throw my phone on the seat, but then think better of it and send one
more text.
Logan: Could one of you please check on Sawyer?
I get an immediate response.
Mae: I’m on it.
Satisfied, I shut my phone off. I don’t want their pity or sympathy. Or
disappointment. Or anger.
I don’t know what to do with myself right now. I consider driving
around, but even that requires too much effort. So I head home. When I’m
home, I strip down and climb into bed. And lay there. Brady comes home
about an hour after and knocks lightly on my door. I don’t respond. After a
while, I can still hear him standing outside the door, so I respond, “I don’t
want to talk now. Please, leave me alone.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, come find me.”
It only takes a few more hours, but eventually, I fall asleep.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Three
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
THE NEXT MORNING, MAE picks me up for work. She insisted, and I
don’t have enough fight in me to protest. Besides, we often drive together. I
avoided the mirror at all costs this morning, but my assumption of the
current state of my appearance is confirmed as soon as I see the look of pity
on Mae’s face. I look like shit. It fits, though, because I feel like shit. Now
my outsides match my insides.
Because my insides...my insides are hurting. A lot. My heart is shredded
and at times, the emotional pain is so strong, it manifests in physical pain
throughout my body. Other times I feel hollow. There are too many
thoughts and emotions swirling around my head at once. It hurts, but then I
tell myself to suck it up and get over him. He’s only a dumb boy.
If only that were the truth.
“Hey,” I say, opening the passenger side door of Mae’s car.
“Morning,” she replies.
As soon as I get buckled, she hands me a giant reusable to-go cup.
“What’s this I ask?”
“Smoothie,” she says, backing out of the parking spot. “We haven’t been
friends long, but long enough that I can trust no matter how bad you are
hurting, you won’t do anything destructive to yourself or others. But, I can
also trust how you get with eating your feelings, so I wanted to make sure
your stomach didn’t hurt on top of everything else.” She’s right. This makes
me want to laugh and cry. I’m not a get sad and skip meals type of girl. I’m
a get sad or stressed and eat ALL of the food type of girl. Her kindness is
too much right now.
Dropping my head into my hands, I attempt to fight back the tears. I can’t
talk or I’m going to lose it again. This morning was the first day I regretted
not wearing makeup as it could help cover up the wreckage last night left
on my face. I don’t give a shit about my appearance, but I don’t want
people asking what’s wrong all day today.
I reach over and squeeze Mae’s hand and squeak out a “Thank you.” I
clear my throat and try to get my emotions under control.
I’m a mess over Logan, but Mae picking me up and considering me
enough to care about my well-being has a whole other set of emotions in
there as well. Things with Logan might be done, but Mae is still my ride or
die. Whether or not the rest of the group will still want to be friends with
me remains to be seen.
Mae and I are silent for a few minutes until I say, “I’m not ready to talk
yet.”
“No pressure. But whenever you want to, I want to listen.”
“I’m sorry if this is weird for you. The last thing I want to do is cause
drama between you and your friends-”
“Your friends too. They didn’t become your friends because you and
Logan were together. And they will not stop being your friends because you
ended it. So stop with that bullshit.”
I try to let Mae’s words sink in. They should be comforting. I love
Denver, Grey, Brady, and Wilder. I would be heartbroken if they were gone
from my life, but it’s too much to consider right now. “I just want to get
through today,” I tell Mae. “Then I can go from there.”
Mae parks the car, and we get out. Before we head inside to work, I pull
on a hat, opting for my flat hat today as it covers more of my face. I’m
banking on the shadows it creates, making all the puffiness less obvious.
My eight-hour shift is about three weeks long. The one good thing about
not allowing yourself to feel anything is that when a co-worker pisses you
off or one of the park visitors does something dumb or someone lodges a
complaint about pointless shit, you don’t even care. Nothing gets to me
today - good or bad—because I don’t allow myself to feel anything.
Maybe this is how I should always be. Does it even matter if I correct
one visitor on their sexist assumptions about female park rangers? Probably
not, because there is going to be another asshole on another day. So, what’s
the point? Better to not feel anything. Then my day won’t be ruined by one
ignorant comment.
Even as I think it, I know it’s not true and I don’t believe it. I need to
stick up for myself and other women. It’s important for me to be a park
ranger, whether younger girls see me and want to be a ranger too, or if they
see me in a predominantly male field, maybe they will decide to do
something that not a lot of women do. I’m too raw to to let the pain in
today, but I will again. Because it’s too important not to. Especially over a
dumb boy. A dumb boy that I’m working hard not to think about.
I’m not thinking about if he is sad or not. I’m not thinking about what his
day is like today. I’m not thinking about if he has anyone to talk to. I’m not
thinking about the fact that I hate him right now, even though that is easier
to face that the fact that I love him. As Mae pulls up to the curb, I am not
thinking about any of it. I didn’t see her at all today, not even for lunch. We
were both busy and ended up eating at different times, which was for the
best because I still wasn’t ready to talk. But, I am now.
“I love you and so appreciate the attempt to get me to eat healthy this
morning, but now I want to talk and I want to make every comfort food
imaginable. I’m doing this instead of getting drunk. I’m going to take this
one day and eat every single feeling I have. There will for sure be a food
hangover tomorrow that I will pay the price for, but at least when I eat my
weight in chocolate tonight, I won’t do anything I’ll regret, like leaving
Logan a sobbing voicemail. Are you with me?”
“I’m in.”
Mae heads towards my house and we decide she is going to drop me off,
and then head home and get her stuff to sleepover tonight. We need a fullon slumber party to combat my feelings.
Two hours later and we are both in pajamas laying on my uncomfortable
old couch with bowls of homemade vegan ice cream topped with chocolate
chips, almond butter, cookies, and every other topping imaginable. There is
no way we are going to eat all the desserts I am baking tonight. Oh well, we
will eat until we are sick and then I will take everything left over to my
coworkers tomorrow. I’ll still be miserable, but at least someone will
benefit from my pain.
Mae still hasn’t pushed me to talk. I don’t know what I did to deserve
her, but I say a thank you prayer for her every night.
“I should have known better.”
Mae says nothing and stops eating. I don’t say anything else, so she asks,
“About which part?”
“You don’t find Logan attractive, but to me, he is the most gorgeous man
I have ever seen.”
“It’s not that I don’t find him attractive. I’m not blind. He’s goodlooking, very good-looking. There is just a piece of me that sees him as a
brother. But I’m not clear on what this has to do with anything.”
I mute the show we are watching and turn so I’m facing Mae. Fingering
the edge of the blanket draped over me, I explain, “I know better than to go
after the best-looking guys. They are never interested in me. At least not for
anything more than a hookup. So I should have known better than to get
mixed up with Logan. He’s the type of guy that is never interested in me for
long.”
“Sawyer. That’s so fucked up. And untrue.” She nods her head as if to
emphasize her point. “We already established that Logan is attractive. And
he went after you. With everything he had. So that proves whatever bullshit
floating around in your head wrong.”
“But he only wanted me for a hookup. I’m not good enough for an actual
relationship.”
“Sawyer. That says everything about him and nothing about you. He may
have said he only wanted a hookup, but that’s total bullshit. He was scared,
and he tried to protect himself by insisting that you two were keeping it
casual. There was nothing casual about your relationship.”
“Please stop. I realize you are trying to help and you are, but it doesn’t
help to hear this. I don’t want to make excuses for him or rationalize his
behavior, because all that is going to lead to is me letting him off the hook.”
I take a breath before admitting to Mae what has been bothering me for a
while about my relationship—or whatever you want to call it—with Logan.
“I’ve been a shitty feminist lately.” I pause and stare down at the ground. “I
let him dictate everything between us. I never wanted to push for what I
needed because I was worried it would spook him and he would end it.
That’s so weak. It’s on him, but it’s also on me for letting it happen. And the
worst part is that I’m still hung up on him, even though I deserve better.”
I drop my head into my hands, not wanting to see Mae’s disappointment
in me. When I hear her let out a chuckle, I pick my head up. “I don’t mean
to laugh, Sawyer, but give yourself a fucking break. You guys ended things
less than twenty-four hours ago. Of course you are still hung up on him!
Give it time. You are not a shitty feminist, not even close. Being a feminist
doesn’t mean being perfect, you are allowed to be a human too. Give
yourself time and little grace. You’re hurting.”
I mull over her words. “I made the right decision to end things, but it still
hurts. It’s never hurt like this before.” Mae pulls me in for another hug and I
rest my head on her shoulder, leaving it there for a bit.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Four
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS and still nothing. No contact from Sawyer, not
that I was expecting any. Even though I didn’t want it to end, I assumed this
was on the horizon at all times.
But that’s not the nothing I’m thinking about. I’m still feeling nothing.
Good or bad - I just feel nothing. I don’t know if I can’t feel anything or if I
refuse to feel anything, but either way, nothing.
I am exhausted, though. I know that much. Sleep has eluded me for the
past few nights, and today Denver and I did non-stop tours. I did a pretty
good job of faking my way through everything today, thank you very much.
I wasn’t my most genuine self, but I don’t think anyone taking a tour from
me could tell. I can fake it with the best of them.
“You’re my boss, so to be clear, I am asking this as a friend. What...the
fuck?” I stiffen at his question. Pausing from where I’m unloading supplies
from the back of our Wild Times van, I turn to Denver, who has his arms
crossed and a pissy look on his face. The expression is so out of place on
him. Denver is never pissy. Ridiculous? Yes. Full of energy. Yes. Fun? Yes.
Pissy? No.
“What?” I reply. Because that’s all I’ve got right now.
“What. The. Fuck. Is. Your. Problem.” He emphasizes each word like the
doucheface he is.
“What’s my problem? Like you don’t know.” I don’t have the time or
energy for this shit.
“Yeah, I do. But I’m confused about why you are acting like this when
you ended it.”
I see red. There’s no world in which I would choose to end things with
Sawyer. Things were perfect - or as close to perfect as I could expect. She is
perfect. “I did not. I would never end it. She did. It’s her fault.”
The fucker laughs. “Are you for real? It’s totally your fault. All she
wanted was for you to admit you are in a relationship, to acknowledge her
and your feelings for her. Even to my inexperienced ass, that was obvious.”
“Taking sides? That’s helpful.” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice.
“No. But someone needs to point out the obvious to your dumb ass.” I’ve
never seen Denver like this. He keeps everything light and fun and silly. If
this was one of the other guys, I would not be surprised, but I thought I was
safe with him.
“This isn’t on me. I was clear to her that we weren’t in a relationship. If
anyone should be pissed off, it should be me, because she and I discussed at
length what the nature of our relationship would be. She’s the one that tried
to change the rules of the game.”
That was the wrong thing to say to him because I’m pretty sure he’s
ready to punch me in the face. Denver is another member of our group that
has never been in a fight in his entire life. He uncrosses his arms and takes a
step towards me. “Let me get this straight. You are mad at Sawyer because
she fell in love with you? You are throwing a temper tantrum because a
beautiful, smart, fun woman loves you?” He pauses, waiting for me to
respond, but I’m not playing his game, so he continues, “It’s clear the
problem is you - not her. You are a spoiled brat, who has been showered in
so much love your entire life that you don’t realize what a gift her love is especially because you feel the same way, but are too much of a dumb fuck
to know it.” His disgust with me is apparent.
Is this for real happening right now? Gritting my teeth, I hold myself
back from unloading on him. I conjure up everything he has confided in me
about his childhood and I want to fucking unleash on him. But, I don’t.
Because besides being a dick move that he doesn’t deserve, despite his
attitude right now, it would require me to admit that I care. It would require
me to care.
So, I drop the bags that I have been holding at his feet and tell him, “Get
this shit cleaned up.” Then, I walk away. I head for the Wild Times office in our converted garage - and find Brady where I can always find him, at
his desk, puttering away on a spreadsheet.
“We need to talk,” I say to him in lieu of any greeting.
“Oh, thank God. I thought you were going to continue walking around
like a zombie for a while longer.” He stands up. “You want to get beers or
talk here?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I figured if you wanted to talk about stuff with Sawyer that it might be
easier over beers.”
“I’m not fucking talking about Sawyer.”
This confuses him. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
“Wild Times.”
Brady takes a seat in his desk chair again. “What about Wild Times? Is
everything okay? Did something happen on one of the tours today?”
I hold up my hands so that he calms down. “No, nothing happened today.
But we need to talk. There are changes we need to make. And I’m not
taking no for an answer this time.” I take my hat off and run my hands
through my hair to give myself a second to think. It wasn’t my best idea to
come in here like this without a game plan, but it can’t be helped. So here
we go. “We need to change up some of our offerings. We have been
offering most of the same tours for years and they are getting stale.”
“No.”
“No?” I repeat. “Why?”
“This is my job,” Bradys says. “This is my part of the company. We each
stick to what we are good at. That was our agreement. I analyze the data
and decide what is good for Wild Times based on that information. You are
in charge of the tours.”
So that’s the way it’s going to be. It’s clear where he thinks my value is just Logan here for a good time, to entertain people and make them laugh.
But not for anything serious. Not for anything that requires an actual brain.
“We are partners. You don’t get to tell me no.”
“Well, I am. Besides, this is not the time to be changing things up.”
“Why not? Business is booming.”
“It’s nothing to do with the business. I don’t trust your thought process
right now.”
“And why the hell not?” I ask.
Brady stands up but remains behind his desk. “Because you threw away
the best thing to ever happen to you, so excuse me if I don’t trust you to
make sound business decisions right now.”
Fuck. Him too? “I didn’t throw anything away. She ended it! Why do
none of you comprehend that?” I can’t help it, but my voice gets highpitched and whiny. For the love! First Denver, now Brady. What is this? I
didn’t want it to end with Sawyer!
Brady cocks his head to the side, considering his words before saying,
“Things with Kirsty messed with you, but -”
“This has nothing to do with Kirsty!” This time I don’t hold back and I’m
yelling.
Brady says nothing for a moment, and neither do I. We stand there,
glaring at each other.
I break the silence the first. “I’m serious about the business stuff. I want
to make changes.”
“No. That discussion is over.”
“Are you fucking for real? You aren’t my boss, everything is fifty-fifty.
Maybe I’ll start a new offering.” I wouldn’t do that, but he doesn’t need to
know that.
“Good luck getting it on our website.” He has the audacity to look
pleased with himself.
Fuck. Him. Fuck him. He knows he has me, so I turn around and walk
out the door, but not before muttering, “Fuck off, asshole.”
I get back outside and thankfully Denver is gone because I don’t think I
could go another round. I hop in my truck and start driving, not sure of
where I’m going to end up. While I drive, I seethe. Where does Denver get
off? Where does Brady get off? Both with Sawyer and with Wild Times
stuff. He doesn’t get to tell me no, like it is his company and his company
alone.
I’m still seething when I pull up to Wilder’s place. I didn’t even realize I
was headed here, but it makes sense. Both his and Grey’s cars are parked
outside. Walking into Wilder’s house, I find him reclined in a chair and
Grey sitting on the couch, watching a basketball game.
“Hey, man,” says Wilder, without shifting his focus from the game.
“Come from work?” Grey gives me a nod in greeting as well.
Glancing down at myself, I realize I’m filthy as hell still. “Yeah.” Kinda
true. “I’m going to grab a beer. Either of you want anything?”
“I’m good,” says Wilder.
“I’ll take one,” Grey says.
A minute later, I’m back and handing a beer to Grey.
“Thanks, man.”
I slide to the floor, resting my back against the couch. I’m too dirty to sit
on Wilder’s couch, and while I always keep a change of clothes in my
truck, it will take too much energy to go back out there and change.
Wilder, Grey, and I sit in silence for a while. I couldn’t tell you who is
playing or what the score is, but for the first time today, I relax a bit. My
friends have that effect on me. That’s part of the reason I was so surprised
that Denver and Brady came at me like they had. Usually, we have each
other’s backs.
“You okay?” Grey is staring at me.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You are going to town on that label.” I look down at my hands and
notice that I had shredded the label off the beer bottle I’m drinking from.
Oh. I shrug my shoulders and go back to the game. Or I go back to staring
toward the TV, still oblivious to what is happening on the screen.
I try to keep thoughts of Sawyer at bay, but I’m weak as hell. What is she
doing right now? Is she hurting? Does she hate me? What’s it going to be
like when we run into each other again? How long until I can see her?
Should I go to her? To check on her? To make sure she is okay.
Then again, she ended it. Of course, she is okay.
“Why does everyone keep saying that I ended things with Sawyer? I
didn’t. I didn’t want it to end.” Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
The three of us sit in silence for a moment and I can tell those two are
trying to communicate something with a few looks. Grey speaks first. “I’m
sure you didn’t want it to end. Why would you? But things couldn’t keep
going as they were. Something had to give.”
I’m trying to remain calm. I truly am. I’m not a fucking hothead that goes
off on my friends, but seriously? Grey too? I might as well leave here and
stop by Mae’s house, but I’m not an idiot. Even though our friendship has
spanned the past four years and she and Sawyer met only a few months ago,
that visit could only go one way. She will tear me a new asshole the second
she sees me. “What do you mean, it was clear? To whom? What are you
guys doing, sitting around talking about my relationship?”
Grey replies, “I thought it wasn’t a relationship.”
I stand up and point a finger at him. “Don’t fucking do that.”
Grey shrugs his shoulders. “Can’t have it both ways, man. Either you
were in a relationship or not. Either way, this isn’t how one reacts when a
fuck buddy moves on.”
“Grey,” Wilder says in warning. Grey holds up his hands and sits back on
the couch. Turning his attention to me, Wilder explains, “We weren’t sitting
around talking about you two, but we are together all the time and as
outside observers, it is sometimes easier to observe what is happening as
opposed to when you are in the midst of it. So sit back down and chill the
fuck out. We’re your friends.”
“Then start acting like it.” Grey is about to say something, but I don’t
give him the chance. “Why is everyone mad at me? She and I agreed that
this was casual. That we were going to keep it simple and have a good time.
That we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. So why am I getting shit on when
she is the one that went against our agreement?”
I’m expecting Grey to come after me, but Wilder beats him to the punch.
“Well, actions speak louder than words, or did you miss that? Your words
might have been saying no to a relationship, but your actions said the
opposite. More than the opposite. You don’t cuddle and take naps on a
couch with someone you aren’t in a relationship with.”
I say nothing. Is he going to throw every aspect of my relationship with
Sawyer back in my face?
Wilder continues, “Have you ever slept over each other’s places without
hooking up?”
I still don’t say a word.
“That’s what I thought. How about dates? How many dates did you plan
and take Sawyer out on?”
I think about the night we went star-gazing at Joshua Tree and the
handful of other times I was so excited to plan something special for her
because I knew she would be down for an adventure and I couldn’t wait to
experience it with her. Fuck. No. These two aren’t right. Sawyer and I
established we were only fuck buddies a long time ago. She’s a friend. I
plan special shit for them, too.
But you aren’t fucking any of them, are you? I try to shut out the voice in
my head. It’s even more annoying than my friends.
“We are here if you want to talk or work through your shit, but we will
not throw you a pity party because you don’t deserve it. You fucked up with
Sawyer, but it’s a safe bet that if you grovel and are ready to be the man that
she wants and needs, that she will take you back.”
That’s it. I will not sit here for a second longer and listen to this bullshit.
Why does everyone think they get to weigh in on everything I did wrong
with Sawyer? We weren’t even in an actual relationship, and I fucked it all
up. What would it be like now if we had?
“What is this?” I ask. This time, unlike with Denver, I don’t hold back.
“Like you two should dish out relationship advice. It’s not like either of you
has been in a healthy relationship any time recently, probably ever.”
Wilder, calm as ever, says, “Get the fuck out. Seriously. Get. The. Fuck.
Out. You can come back once you chill out, but not until then. Go feel sorry
for yourself somewhere else and try not to be a dick to anyone else in the
meantime.”
I drop my beer bottle on the coffee table and take off, not bothering to
look at either of them before getting out of there. I don’t want to see the
disappointment. And if either of them is hurt by what I said, I don’t want to
see that etched on their faces either.
I’m heading back to my house and I wish I could go anywhere but there.
I don’t have the energy for another run-in with Brady. I could, of course,
just go to my room and stay there, but that sounds bad too. I try running
through all options, but realize that if I’m not going to Sawyer’s or one of
my other friend’s houses, there is nowhere else for me to go. Except...I
could go home. To my parent’s home. Where I grew up. I could get out of
here for a couple of days. Pulling into my driveway, I send off a text to
Aditi and Denver.
Logan: Would it be possible for you two to cover my tours for a couple
of days? I have tomorrow off but will need a couple of days after that. I
need to go to San Diego for a bit.
Aditi: Works for me. Everything good?
Logan: Thanks. Everything is fine. Just need to check in on some things.
I don’t even know what that means, but it’s vague enough that neither of
them are likely to challenge me on it. Plus, I would put money on the fact
that Denver already told Aditi about our earlier run-in.
Denver: It’s covered.
Thank God. Normally, I would never question if he would help, but after
today, I’m not so sure. And maybe I would deserve it if he told me to go to
hell.
Logan: Thank you both. I owe you.
Feeling lighter already, I walk into my house. I can hear Brady in his
room, but I plan to avoid talking to him. I head for my room, where I pull
out a couple of bags and start dumping clothes in them. Running to the
bathroom, I find the essentials and throw them in the bag as well. Locating
my laptop and all the chargers I need, I pack them in my backpack.
Throwing everything over my shoulder, I turn and find Brady in the
doorway.
“What’s this?” he asks.
No point in holding back. “I’m going to my parent’s house for a couple
of days.” Brady says nothing, instead nodding his head. “Denver and Aditi
are covering my tours, so you don’t need to worry about Wild Times.”
“Good.”
“Bye.” It’s awkward as hell. Between growing up together and living
together for the past eight years, I have spent more time with Brady that any
other person in the world. Suffice to say, this isn’t even close to the first
time we have gotten into it, but it’s different somehow.
“Take care.” He replies. And as I’m about to walk out the door, he adds,
“Ask if you need anything.”
Once I’m back in my truck, I allow myself to breathe freely and am
surprised by the enormous lump that formed at Brady’s words. Letting out a
shuddering breath, I text my parents to let them know I’m getting in late
tonight and will be staying for a few days. Then, I hit the road. It’s only a
two and half-hour trip from my door to my parents’. I don’t want to be
alone with my thoughts right now, so I start a podcast that always makes me
laugh and try to lose myself in the comedy.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Five
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
I’M ALLOWED ONE DAY of wallowing before my family attacks. By
midday on my second day at home, it’s clear that my parents can tell
something is wrong with me, or more likely, one of them has been talking
to Brady. They are both in full mother hen mode. I can’t say that I hate it
though as it has resulted in me spending a day laying on the most
comfortable couch and food brought my way.
Speaking of…my dad walks into the family room, delivering a bowl of
chili. The delicious smell emanating from the bowl propels my ass up from
the prone position I have been occupying for the last several hours. And as I
do, Denver’s words reverberate in my ears. I don’t want to admit it because
he acted like a fuckface, but he might have been on to something about me
being showered in love my entire life. But so what? It’s not my fault I hit
the jackpot with parents and family. As soon as I think it, I’m ashamed.
True, it isn’t my fault that other people question whether or not their parents
love them, but there’s no reason for me to be an entitled asshole about it.
Besides, he’s off base with the point he was trying to make about Sawyer,
like if I hadn’t grown up knowing unconditional love, then I would have
jumped at the chance to be in a relationship with her.
I wanted to be in a relationship with Sawyer. I did. I wanted everything
with her. I still do, but I can’t. It hurts this bad now, and we were together
less than two months. Imagine if we had gone all in and been together for a
year or more. It’s only been a couple of days and there’s an acute loss
without her. I couldn’t handle it if I had been in love with her.
I dig into the bowl of chili. “Ah-mazing,” I tell my dad. “Thank you.”
For a bit, we eat in silence. “We love having you at home. We wish you
would visit more, so don’t get all pissy about me wondering if everything is
okay?”
“Everything is fine, Dad. I needed a few days away—that’s all. And like
you said, it has been a while, so it seemed like a good idea.” I attempt to be
nonchalant, but I can tell my dad isn’t buying what I’m selling. He doesn’t
call me on it, though.
“Okay.”
I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to talk to my dad about Sawyer. My
dad is a great sounding board and tends not to judge, but I’m not ready. Not
yet. I’m not over Sawyer by any stretch of the imagination, but walking
through the doors of my parents’ house - the one that I grew up in - has
eased a bit of the tension in my chest. Nevertheless, I’m not ready to talk to
someone else about it or even sift through my feelings on my own.
My dad and I continue eating in silence before he says something about
running errands. I decline the offer to join him and lay back down on the
couch. I doze off again and am in the middle of the most delicious dream
about Sawyer before I’m rudely awakened.
“Gross. Are you having a sex dream?”
I shoot up to a sitting position, swinging my legs over to the ground and
resting my elbows on my knees. Dropping my head into my hands, I try to
discreetly check my boner status.
Laughter. And then, “I’m fucking with you.”
Lifting my head from my hands, I find my younger sister, Kaela, smiling
at me. “Hello to you too,” I say. I rub my eyes, trying to gather my wits.
Kaela is fucking with me, but she wouldn’t be laughing if she could see
what I was dreaming about doing to Sawyer. But, that would require me to
talk about Sawyer and that isn’t happening.
“So who’s this Sawyer chick that you are all torn up about?”
“No,” I reply.
“No? What does that even mean? I didn’t ask a yes or no question.”
Kaela folds her arms across her chest.
I love my family. I swear I do. I also swear that at twenty-six, I’m a
grownup. But nothing brings me back to childhood quicker than getting into
it with one of my siblings. Especially my sisters. Kaela is about a year and a
half younger than me and Liv is two years older than me. It’s a blessing and
a curse.
“Tough shit,” I tell her. “I’m not answering your questions.”
“Fine, be a mopey asshole. But it’s becoming clear why this girl kicked
your ass to the curb.”
I lunge for her.
There’s no chance I’m going to hurt her in any way, shape, or form,
seeing as though the worst I would do to her would be to give her a noogie
or if I’m in an especially dickish mood, a wedgie and she knows it. Even so,
it only takes the lunge from me to send her flying out of the room yelling,
“MOM! I tried. He’s hopeless.”
I’m still recovering from being woken from my nap and my run-in with
Kaela when my mom walks in a few minutes later. Is there no end to this
relentless parade of nosy, overbearing people in my life?
My mom doesn’t even pretend to hide her smile.
“Why are you smiling?” It comes out as more of a demand than I tend to
use with my mom.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Because you are home.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. I’m happy that you are in love.”
What? Why does every person in my life think that I want to get into this
with them? “First, I’m not in love. Second, I have been in love before.”
“Wrong on both accounts.”
“You are my mom and I love you very much, but stay the hell out of
this.”
“No. I’ll give you a pass on talking about Sawyer. That’s clearly a touchy
subject, but let’s chat about Kirsty for a second.”
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll talk. You listen.”
I’ve had it. If this was anyone else, I would be out the door so fast. So I
hesitate. But, then I decide that fuck it, I’m leaving anyway.
I stand and my mom tugs on my shirt sleeve. “Sit your ass down and
listen. Don’t think you are too old for me to paddle your ass.”
My mouth drops open. What the hell has she been smoking? “First, yes, I
am too old. Much too old. And second, you have never once in your life
paddled anyone’s ass.”
“True. I thought it sounded like a good threat, though.”
“Oh my God! Fine. Talk. Make this end soon.”
“I’m glad to see you are coming around.” I give her my best death glare it’s not great, but it’s the best that I’m working with and seems to do the
trick, anyway. “Okay. I’ll keep this short and sweet, I promise. Your
relationship, or more accurately, the way your relationship ended with
Kirsty, did a real number on you, but you were never in love with her.
Maybe you were in love with the idea of her, or the idea of being in love,
but you weren’t in love with her.”
“And how do you know that?” Not a question, more of a demand.
“Because I have been in love. For the past thirty-eight years, I have been
deeply in love with your father, an all-encompassing love. Once you
experience that kind of love, it becomes easier to recognize in other people.
Besides, you were more excited about starting Wild Times and all the
adventures you and Brady were going to have, Kirsty was just along for the
ride.” She stops talking and pats my hand. “As devastated as you were
when she ended things, I was happy.”
Happy? Happy to see me wrecked? Before I can say anything, she
continues, “I was happy because Kirsty was strong enough to end it. She
could tell it wasn’t right, even if you didn’t. I was happy that you would not
do something like get married to the wrong person because that’s what you
thought you should do. And I was happy for her. She deserved more, too.
You both deserved more than just an okay, convenient relationship.”
This time when I stand up, my mom doesn’t stop me. I walk over to the
windows, peering out on the street. What the hell am I supposed to do with
that? My mom is wrong. I was in love with Kirsty. I was. I wanted to marry
her and start a family with her. We had plans.
Plans don’t equal love says a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously
similar to my mom’s. But, if it wasn’t love, then why did our breakup fuck
me up? It devastated me when Kirsty ended it.
But was I devastated because my plans were destroyed, or because Kirsty
was no longer in my life?
Shit. I never thought of it like that.
I was mad at Kirsty. Pissed. Furious. But not because she broke my heart
or was gone from my life, but because she ruined all of my plans. When she
was gone, I didn’t miss her. I missed the idea of having someone. I missed
the future I had planned out for us. There wasn’t even a smidgen of the
wreckage that my life is without Sawyer. Ever since the night she ended it,
there has been a piece of me missing, like I can’t take a full breath. Like I’m
not whole without her.
Because I’m in love with her.
I love her.
I love Sawyer.
That realization should scare the shit out of me, but it doesn’t, not even
close. It’s like a weight has been lifted from my chest.
How have I been so blind? I play back every step of our relationship, yes
relationship, in my head. Everyone keeps saying it’s so obvious and it turns
out it is, so how then did I miss it?
I say nothing, but turn back to my mom. I’m not sure what to say. This is
a lot to process. Thankfully, my mom doesn’t rub it in and gives me an out.
“I need you to run an errand. There are two boxes in the trunk of my car
that I need to get to Liv. Do you think you could drop them off at her
house?”
Yes! “Yes.” I start to walk out of the room, but then think better of it. I
turn back around, walk over to my mom, and kiss her on the cheek. “Thank
you.” She squeezes me back.
Within five minutes, I’m out the door. My older sister, Liv, lives about
twenty-five minutes from my parents and it’s the perfect excuse to get out
and give myself time to think.
It turns out that twenty-five minutes is way too much time. It takes about
two before I accept that I’m completely in love with Sawyer. How could I
not be? Two minutes after that, I realize that my love for her doesn’t mean
shit because I’ve behaved horribly. I’ve led her on and I’ve hurt her
repeatedly because of my stupidity and inability to pull my head out of my
ass. I tricked myself into believing that my bruised ego from the Kirsty
debacle somehow meant that I wasn’t made for love.
I’m such an idiot.
I pride myself on being a great guide and a huge part of that is seeing to
the needs of my clients. Is one of my clients looking a little peaky? Better
stop for a water break. Is someone disinterested? Better up my storytelling
game. Was someone’s interest piqued when I mentioned ghost stories? Tell
more. I’m excellent at my job, no question. Then how did I fuck this up so
much with my love life?
Was Sawyer okay with us just being friends with benefits? No. Was I?
No. Was I too scared to say we were in a relationship even though we were?
Yes.
How did I not see anything that Sawyer, or even that I, needed?
The rest of the drive to Liv’s place, I’m pushing down hard on the gas. I
want to see my sister, but I need to drop those boxes off and get out. I need
to stop at my parent’s place to pick up my stuff and then I’m heading home.
I can’t waste another minute being away from Sawyer.
I don’t bother knocking at my sister’s house. I go around to the backdoor
and walk right in.
Probably should have stopped and knocked because assuming from the
blood-curdling scream she let out, I scare the shit out of her.
When Liv finishes screaming, she gets down from the kitchen island
where had been kneeling over a cookie sheet. Given how her phone was in
her hand, I assume she had been taking a picture of whatever is making this
place smell so fantastic.
“What the hell are you doing? And what the fuck is that amazing smell?”
Liv is still clutching her chest as she walks over to me and gives me a big
hug. Ignoring my questions, she says, “You aren’t quite the hot mess I was
expecting based on what the rest of the fam bam was saying about you.”
Choosing to ignore that because I don’t have the energy to fight with one
more family member, I say, “What are you doing? What is all of this?”
Liv waves a hand, “Oh, nothing, baking stuff for friends.”
It’s a lie. She’s a shitty liar, just like me. I decide not to say anything.
Instead, I stare at her, making it as awkward as possible. It takes about five
seconds before she breaks.
“Oh, fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
Her expression is so serious that I don’t have the heart to mess with her.
“I promise.”
“I started a food blog under a pen name.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Sorry,” I say, “but that’s not what I was
expecting. I thought it was going to be a deep, dark secret.”
Liv is wringing her hands now. “I don’t want it to be a secret, it’s…I feel
weird sharing it with everyone. I mean, who am I to all of the sudden start a
food blog? I’m a graphic designer, not a baker.”
“Well, from the smell of this place, you are doing something right.” I
steal one of the cookies cooling on the counter and take a bite. “Damn. Liv!
These are so good.”
Her face flames. “Thanks.”
“Okay, I hate to cut this short, because I would love to catch up, but I
need to go. I figured stuff out earlier today, and I need to get back home as
soon as possible.”
Liv sighs, “You figured out that you are in love with Sawyer? Oh, thank
god.”
I shake my head at her. “Why do you all talk about her like you know
her?”
“I’m just glad everyone is talking about you for once,” she admits.
I go outside to get the boxes my mom wanted me to give Liv, bring them
in, and drop them by the backdoor. She hands me another box. “What’s
this?” I ask.
“It’s me trying not to gain twenty pounds. This blog is awesome and
what I want to be doing, but I lack self-control so that box is filled with all
kinds of good stuff. I figured you could take it home to your friends, maybe
bribe them into forgiving you for being such an ass.”
”Is nothing sacred?” I ask. Of course, she knows all the terrible details.
Fucking Brady. Or who knows? Denver loves my parents. It wouldn’t
surprise me to find out he was texting my mom.
“Don’t be dumb. Of course, nothing is in a big family. Get going. Drive
careful and we’ll talk soon because I want to head out there for a long
weekend or something. And don’t forget, you promised not to tell anyone
about...this,” she gestures to the mess in the kitchen.
“I don’t get it, but I won’t,” I promise Liv.
I make it back to my parents in record time and pack up my stuff. After
saying my goodbyes, I’m about to pull out of the driveway when a car pulls
in, blocking me in.
Hunter.
My oldest brother.
He’s a good dude, but he has the least amount of personality of anyone.
Ever. Takes himself way too seriously and, as a result, can be
condescending. I don’t think he even means to be that way, he just is. Not
going to lie, the day I realized I had grown just a smidge taller than him was
a happy day. Now, whenever he takes on a condescending tone, I make a
show of looking down at him—even if it’s just an inch or two.
I get out of my car and hug him. “Sorry, I gotta jet. Hopefully, we can
catch up sometime soon.”
“No problem, but I need to talk to you about something real quick.”
Hunter takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes before replacing them back on
his face.
“If this is about Sawyer, save your breath. I’m fixing it...hopefully.” I
admit.
“No, I know you already figured your shit with Sawyer out. Besides, I
don’t know dick about women, so don’t ask me for advice.”
What? It’s been like forty-five minutes since I left Liv’s. It’s clear my
family has a group text going behind my back, but what the hell? And how
convenient that I have seen almost all my siblings today? If Eli wasn’t a
couple of states away, I would expect him to pop up from somewhere.
Although, I’m not gone yet, so I don’t put it past my mom.
“I want to talk to you about Brady.”
“No thanks.”
“Hear me out.”
I let out a sigh. Big families. Whatever. I figure I will get out of here
faster if I don’t fight it. “Fine. I’m not even going to bother asking why all
of you know all of my business.”
“You know, Mom asked me to do this. Besides the point. It sounds like
shit is tense between you and Brady. Remember that with Brady, he is a hell
of a lot more sensitive than he lets on.” I like how none of my siblings even
bother to pretend that they aren’t here doing my mom’s bidding.
“Brady? Sensitive?” I object, but Hunter cuts me off.
“Yes. You always think that because you two grew up together and you
had a great childhood, then he had a great one too. And he did. But there is
a reason he grew up as a part of our family. His parents were always off
doing whatever, so imagine how unwanted that made him feel? It was great
that he had our family, but it’s no replacement for his own.”
I open my mouth to object again, but Hunter keeps going. “I get he had a
great childhood with you and with the rest of our family, but that’s only
because his family wasn’t around. By choice. So when you get home and
are readying to lay into him, keep all that in mind.”
“Why say this to me now? Brady and I have gotten into it plenty of times
in the past.”
“True. But it’s never been like this.”
“You haven’t even seen me until five minutes ago.”
“Also true, but the live updates from the rest of the family, Brady
included, lead me to believe you are off your game. You’re not a dick.”
I may have been a dick to everyone since Sawyer ended things. There’s
no excuse for my behavior, though. I shrug my shoulders.
“Go easy on him, okay?”
I’m still replaying Hunter’s words in my head an hour later while I’m
driving home. I want to fix things with Sawyer. I don’t want to go another
day - or night - without her, but I can’t show up at her doorstep begging her,
not without a plan anyway. I need to think this through. I need to make
things right with Brady first. By all accounts, he is my brother. And we own
a business together. I need to fix that relationship and then I need to find
Sawyer.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Six
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
I THROW MYSELF DOWN onto my bed. Damnit. After Logan spent so
many nights here, it’s feels empty without him—too big, too cold without
his warm body pressed up against mine. I’m tired, but I’m too wired to
sleep. I wish I could stop all of my feelings. Rationally, I know I won’t
always hurt this much, but right now, I can’t see this pain going anywhere.
I’m feeling too many things at once.
I’m tired.
I’m tired of feeling like shit.
I’m tired of feeling sad.
I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself.
I’m tired of being pitied.
Earlier in the week, Wilder made a point of returning a dish of mine that
had been at his house since the first night I hung out with everyone, months
ago. He was clearly checking up on me. And the sweetness and
thoughtfulness of it made me cry. We didn’t talk about Logan, though.
The next day Brady came into the park to check on a permit, right when I
happened to be working in the Visitor Center. This was something that
could have been taken care of over the phone, plus Brady never comes into
the park. He doesn’t hate the outdoors or anything like that, but he’s not as
passionate about being outside as the rest of us. I saw right through him and
he knew it. It was still thoughtful, though.
The day after, Denver came blowing through the doors of the Visitor
Center, running for the bathroom, and muttering about dropping a deuce. It
was the best part of my day, which tells you a lot about my day—and when
he came out of the bathroom and wrapped me up in a big hug, it made me
so happy. Then, he whispered, “He’s an idiot, but he will realize it soon
enough.”
How should I have taken that? Do they all think I’m waiting around for
him to realize that I’m a catch? Because that sure as shit makes me pathetic
as hell. It isn’t necessarily untrue, but it’s still pathetic. Also, I’m not
waiting around. I’m moving on.
How exactly?
To be determined.
There is not a chance in hell I’m ready to date anyone, so instead of
doing something stupid like getting drunk and trying to hook up with
someone, I choose to stay in the kitchen, baking my feelings away. But, on
the bright side, I’m not eating everything I bake. That’s a surefire way to
make things worse. For the first time in my life, I’m practicing self-control
around desserts. Instead of eating everything myself, my coworkers and
friends have been reaping the benefits, because each day I bring in a new
delicious treat or drop something off at their houses. It keeps me busy and
takes up time.
Denver didn’t mean anything by his comment, but it rendered me
speechless nonetheless. I didn’t want to go off on him, but I also didn’t
want it to get back to Logan that I’m waiting around for him, because I’m
not.
Like with Wilder and Brady checking in on me, Denver’s presence
warmed my heart because it led me to believe that even though they were
Logan’s friends first, they would not shut me out. There would be no
choosing sides. And I’m grateful for that.
How would it go for Logan and me to show up at Wilder’s house again?
Or be together on a group hike? No fucking clue. Not one. How am I going
to be near him and not remember what it is like to lie in bed with him? Or,
how am I supposed to forget what it’s like for him to be inside of me? Or,
how I am supposed to not remember what it is like to cuddle on a couch
together as he whispers in my ear, telling me I’m beautiful? Am I expected
to forget all of that?
I had started to believe him, too. Not that I am beautiful, but that I’m
beautiful to him. The way he looked at me. The way he held me. The way
he took care of me. Words are words, but his actions showed me so much
more.
Is that where I messed up? If I believed his words, not his actions, then
maybe I wouldn’t have fallen so fucking hard for him.
These thoughts leave me too exhausted to even bake. As I lay on the
couch, I can’t decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Then there’s a
knock at my front door.
Logan!
I chastise myself for getting so excited at the idea. Even as I make my
way over to the door, I can’t snuff out the spark of hope in my chest.
Checking the peephole, I let out a sigh.
Not Logan.
Grey.
I love Grey, but not like I love Logan. Not even close.
I open the door and smile at him.
Grey laughs. “That’s the fakest smile ever. Besides, I heard you sigh
through the door. I’m not who you were hoping for, huh?”
I scrunch up my face and try not to cry. I shouldn’t be disappointed that it
is Grey, but I am. Not to mention that I’m pretty much on the verge of tears
all the time. “Sorry.”
Grey walks through the door and gives me a hug. “Don’t be sorry. Is it
cool if I come in?”
Stepping back from him, I gesture for him to enter.
Grey closes the door and follows me into the room.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Fine,” I reply, as if on automatic. Grey says nothing, but stares me down
until I relent. “Not fine. Mostly embarrassed for caring so much about him
when he doesn’t return the sentiment. And hurt. Definitely hurt some hurt in
there, too.”
“Sawyer. No. Of course, he feels the same. Although, I’m assuming he’s
also not pissed at you like you are at him.”
“I am pissed. Beyond pissed, but not only at him, at me, too. He told me
over and over that he didn’t do relationships and I still let myself fall in love
with him. So, I’m sad and pissed and...I don’t know what else, but I’m a lot
of other things too!”
“I haven’t spoken to Logan in days, so I’m not speaking for him, but I’m
curious. Would you consider giving him one more chance?”
Before I even consider it, I let out a crazy laugh. “No.” I’ve surprised
Grey, but he doesn’t push further. “I can’t believe it took me so long, but I
deserve better than to be treated that way. If it were any of you guys or Mae
in my shoes, I would insist that you deserve more, that you could do better
than someone who wanted to treat you the way he strung me along. I
wanted more and I should have insisted or walked away. So, no, I’m not
going down that road again.”
“But if you love him, shouldn’t you fight for him?” I can tell he is
confused, as this conversation is not going the way he expected.
I shake my head. “I have been fighting for him the entire time. Turns out
it is a waste of a fight if he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me.”
Grey nods his head. “I get it. Sorry if I was being pushy, but seeing you
two together made me realize I wanted that. I want to find my person and
be with someone. On Thanksgiving, I was being serious, I’m ready to start
dating, and not just hooking up, but for a serious relationship. I wasn’t
before, and I think a big part of that is seeing you and Logan and how great
it can be to share your life with someone and to go on adventures with that
person.”
“Greyyyyyy. I’m happy that is where you are at, and once I pull myself
out of this funk, I can’t wait to help you find her.” This could be a lot of
fun.
“So that’s what it takes to get you to smile? The prospect of being my
wing woman?”
I clap my hands and give him my first genuine smile in days. “Oh, you
have no idea. I am an amazing wing woman.” Grey shakes his head and we
sit in companionable silence for a minute. “Oh! Are you hungry?”
He shrugs. “Always.”
“Perfect. I found this new recipe that I thought you would like. I was
going to try it before sending it your way, but since you are here, do you
want to stay and be my official taste tester?”
“Always.” Grey repeats.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Seven
OceanofPDF.com
LOGAN
ON THE DRIVE FROM San Diego back home, I practice my speech, well,
speeches. Before I can go beg Sawyer to give me another chance, I need to
make things right with Brady. Even though it kills me not to head straight to
Sawyer, I head home first.
I find Brady sitting on the couch, watching a movie. “Hey,” I greet him
as I walk through the door.
“You’re back?”
“Like the whole family hasn’t been sending you hourly updates.”
“Ah, the jig is up then?”
I snort, which reminds me of Sawyer. I take a seat in the chair next to the
couch where he is sitting. “I’m sorry for being a dick. I was out of line.”
Brady waves a hand, “Forgiven. I get you are going through something,
but don’t make a habit of it.” Uncomfortable with this conversation, he
glances away.
“Thank you,” I tell him. I mean it too. I didn’t expect him to forgive me
that easily, because I had been an asshole. “I want to talk about Wild Times.
While I was off-base for the way I went about it, this conversation is long
overdue.”
I see Brady tense up. I hate conflict and I know Brady does too, but
things are going to go off the rails if we don’t work through this.
“We came up with the idea for this business when we were nineteen
years old. We have grown and changed a lot since then - thankfully. So we
can’t expect our business to remain stagnant, never changing from the idea
we came up with as kids. And we can’t expect our needs to be the same
either.”
Brady finds his voice, “I don’t disagree, but I’m not willing to throw
everything out because, on a whim, you aren’t as passionate about it as
before.”
I grit my teeth, reminding myself to stay calm. “I don’t want to throw
everything out and this isn’t a whim. I’m bored or uninspired or whatever
you want to call it, and have been for months, longer even, but it doesn’t
mean I don’t love Wild Times. I do. And I love working with you. I don’t
want that part to ever change, but I want us to be open to new ideas and the
possibility of evolving.
Brady closes his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry.” His voice wobbles in an
un-Brady-like show of emotion. Clearing his throat, he continues, “From
my perspective, this is so familiar.” He must see the confusion on my face
because he explains further. “Not familiar to you, but from my parents. My
entire life they have lived with the “grass is always greener” mentality. I
fucking hate it. Nothing has ever satisfied them. Nothing has ever been
enough for them. I doubt they even enjoy life because they are too caught
up in comparing their lives to everyone else. So when you come to me
wanting to change our business when everything is great, I can’t stop the
flashbacks to my childhood. I realize my baggage is not your fault, but it is
what it is.”
I’m silent for a moment. We may have been attached at the hip our entire
lives, but Brady isn’t a big talker about feelings or his family. We are
cousins, but he has always been a part of my immediate family and I always
viewed it from my perspective. I never considered what it was like for him
to not be a part of his own. Or if I were him, what I would think about my
parents always choosing their next great business idea or adventure over
me?
Shit.
How did I never consider this from his perspective?
“I get it. But, can I ask one thing?” Brady nods. “Where do you envision
Wild Times in five years or ten years? How do you see it? Do you expect us
to do this same thing every day until we retire?”
“I try not to think ahead too much. That feels like my parents’ mentality
and I try to do the opposite of what I think they would do. I try to enjoy
every day as it comes, and so far it seems to work for me.”
“Then what’s the point of us doing this? If we wanted to do the same
thing day in and day out, we could work corporate jobs making more
money with much better benefits.”
“Not changing up Wild Times is not the same as working a desk job.
Besides, I could take a corporate job. You couldn’t.”
I try not to, but I flinch. At first, I try to hide my reaction and then decide
if there was ever a time to lay it all out there, this is it. “What the hell is that
supposed to mean?”
“It means I enjoy sitting behind a desk and figuring shit out and it’s your
worst nightmare.”
“I get you are the brains behind this operation, but stop treating me like
I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t treat you like an idiot.”
“You do too. Maybe not on purpose, but you are always telling me to
shut up and do my job—talking and looking pretty.” I’m breathing hard
now as I’m somewhere between pissed off and embarrassed I said
everything out loud.
“No. No. Not even close. Dude. I’m sorry if that’s how it comes across,
but running our business is like the one thing I am good at. You’re good at
everything. If you do stuff on the business end, what’s left for me to do?
What’s the point in me being a part of this, then?”
“The point is we get to work together every day. We each get to do
something that makes us happy. It’s always been you doing the business
part and me leading tours. I’m not trying to take over the business end - I
don’t want to, nor do I know how. But I want to be free to think creatively
and push ourselves and Wild Times in new directions if we feel like it.”
Brady says nothing for a minute. “It seems like we have both been
bottling shit up instead of talking to each other. We can’t continue like this
going forward. I’ll try not to be such an asshole about your new ideas, but
understand, I’m still going to push back.”
“I want you to push back. That’s how we can get to the good ideas. But
don’t shut me down without a conversation.”
“Agreed.” Brady thinks for a moment. “Should we hug or some shit?”
I laugh, “I’m good.” Then I let out a breath and sink back into the chair.
I’m exhausted. My brain is mush. This was a good conversation, a
necessary one, but on top of everything with Sawyer, it leaves me running
on empty. At least it turned out positive, though. At least Brady and I both
said what needed to be said. I don’t want to get into it with him again, but I
can’t help myself, so I ask, “You seen Sawyer?”
“Are we allowed to talk about her without you acting like a dick?”
Fair enough. “Yes. How is she?”
“I mean, she’s Sawyer, so she’ll be okay. But you were shitty to her, and
she’s still hurting. She’s sad.”
I don’t know what I expected to hear. Do I want her to be just fine?
Moving on? Happy? Am I the biggest piece of shit in the world if it gives
me a bit of relief that she isn’t over me yet? It means I still might have a
chance. I decide to ask the question, even though I might not want to hear
the answer.
“Think she will give me another chance?”
“Thank God you pulled your head out of your ass. I don’t know though. I
wouldn’t blame Sawyer if she told you to go to hell. But I know she loved
you, possibly still loves you. So at the least, you can try.”
“Then, I’m going to try.”
I tell Brady the plan I spent the two and half hour drive home concocting.
He loves it and offers me a few suggestions. To put everything in motion, I
first need to eat a little more crow. Pulling out my phone, I compose a text.
Logan: I want and need to apologize to each of you for my behavior as of
late. I still plan on doing that, but want to send this tonight as a precursor
before I make my rounds tomorrow.
Logan: I was a dick to all of you in different ways, and I’m very sorry.
I’m lucky to call each of you a friend.
Logan: Mae - I realize I did nothing to you, but I was avoiding you, so
you deserve an apology too.
I send off the three texts in rapid succession. And then I hold my breath.
If they tell me to fuck off, I’ll deserve it. No doubt. But, I won’t give up.
Each of them is too important to me. And for the same reason, I will not
give up with Sawyer either.
Denver: I’m expecting next-level ass-kissing in my apology.
As I read Denver’s text, I let out a breath. Okay. At least one of my
friends doesn’t hate me. Two, if I count Brady. Although truth be told,
Denver is not the one I’m worried about. I was a total fuckhead to Wilder
and Grey. I said shitty things and I plan on groveling big time. I can see
Wilder forgiving me, but Grey might be a little more difficult.
Grey: You realize you were the common denominator with each of us.
We aren’t all assholes.
I reread his text over and over. Fucking Grey. He’s the most difficult
person in the world to read on the best of days, but when he has a right to be
pissed at me and over text, it’s pretty much impossible to decipher.
Logan: Yes, I know. That’s what me saying sorry and that I was a dick
was all about.
Grey: Good. Just wanted to make you say it one more time. I’ll take that
ass-kissing tomorrow as well. I won’t object if you get down on your knees
and beg.
I bow my head. Thank God.
Logan: I’ll start practicing now.
Mae:
I’ll
take
an
apology.
And
I’m
still
going
to
be
annoyed/mad/pissed/disappointed in you for a while, but that’s just how it’s
going to be.
Logan: Well, I’m planning on making that right as well. I know I’m not
in a position to ask, but what do you all think of helping me win Sawyer
back?
Mae: Hell yes. But only if you assure me you will not hurt her again.
Denver: I thought you would never ask. You two are going to get your
HEA!
Brady: I’m ignoring Denver and whatever the hell a HEA is, but I’m in.
Grey: In.
Wilder: Good man. I’m in.
I let out another sigh of relief and try to relax my shoulders. I hadn’t
realized how tense I had gotten during our conversation. That went better
than I thought it would. Getting back to our group text, my fingers started
flying over the keyboard as I explain my plan. There is potential for this to
backfire and get awkward, but I’m willing to put myself out there for
Sawyer. I need to for Sawyer. There is no playing pretend for me anymore
when it comes to her. I love her and there’s little I won’t do for her.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Eight
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
THUD. THUD. THUD.
I roll over in bed. What the fuck? The neighbors I share a wall with are
normally quiet. Pulling my covers over my head, I try to go back to sleep.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Fuuuccck. Checking the time, I see that it’s six in the morning. On
workdays, I’m up by six at the latest, but since I have today off, I was
hoping to sleep later. That doesn’t appear to be happening, so I get out of
bed to go investigate.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Walking into the family room, I realize the noise is coming from my front
door. It better not be some asshole trying to sell something at this time of
the day. Checking the peephole, I calm down when I see it is Mae. Then,
panic sets in because why else would she be here? I fling the door open and
almost yell, “What is it!”
“Oh, heyyyyy,” she says by way of greeting. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I
started thinking about my mission to find a boyfriend and I got in my head
about it last night and now I’m not so sure about this whole blind date thing
and I needed to talk to you and now I’m realizing that I woke you up.
Sorry.” The words come spilling out and when she gets around to
apologizing, she says it so nonchalantly that I doubt she is.
“Ah, okay.” I rub my eyes, trying to process everything she said. “Want
to come and we can eat breakfast and talk?”
“Yes, and no. Yes, I want to talk, but no, not here. I have so much energy,
I need to move while we talk it out. Can you hurry and get dressed and we
can eat on our way to the Park? I have the perfect hike in mind that will get
us moving, but we won’t be huffing and puffing so we can still think and
talk.”
“Ummm, sure.” It seems like a weird request, even for Mae, but
whatever, if this is what she needs.
She claps her hands. “Perfect. Now, go get dressed. You have five
minutes. I’ll get your breakfast and fill up your water bottle.”
She ignores my look of confusion, but instead of challenging her, I head
for my room.
Seven minutes later, I’m ready and Mae is standing by the door with my
backpack in one hand and a granola bar in the other. “Thanks. This is quite
the service.” She is acting like a total weirdo, though.
We talk a little on the way into the park as I’m shoveling my granola bar
down and Mae keeps flipping through the radio stations. What the hell is up
with her? I’m sure she will explain it soon enough. Once we are in the park,
it’s still a bit of a drive to the hike Mae wants to go on, but I don’t question
it because I get this way sometimes, too.
Once we are out on the hike, it gets even more bizarre. Mae talks nonstop. She’s a talker to begin with, but this is next level shit. And despite the
word vomit dripping from her, I do not know where she is at with the idea
of being in a serious relationship, or about the idea of letting us all set her
up with someone. One minute, she loves all of it and is super positive, and
then the next minute, she is negative about it. It’s giving me whiplash. I
barely say a word. But, I don’t think it matters, she just needs to talk it
through.
Also, she keeps checking her phone, which is unlike her as well. One
thing I love about Mae is that when she is with you, she gives you her full
attention, but not today. Today, it’s like I’m not even here. But that’s okay.
If she needs someone to shut up and walk beside her today, I can do that.
God knows, with all my drama with Logan, everything has been all about
me and my problems, so this is a pleasant distraction.
We are nearing the end of the hike when Mae stops and starts tugging at
my sweatshirt and pants, then brushing dirt off of me. She fixes a wayward
strand of hair. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Ummm, sorry. I don’t know. I had an urge, and I did it. Didn’t think
about it. Sorry. Let’s go.”
WTF much?
We start walking again, this time in silence. It’s the first time Mae has
stopped talking in the past hour since we started. I’m trying to work through
her weirdo behavior when she stops once more, this time clutching my
hand. “I hope I’m doing the right thing here. If I’m not, then I’m sorry, but
know that my heart was in the right place.”
“Wha-” I’m not able to finish asking what the hell she is talking about
when she tugs me forward around the side of a boulder.
There is a large group of people huddled together there, and it takes me a
moment to notice that I know most of them. Some I don’t. And I know the
person out in front, the one leading the tour.
Logan.
It’s been almost a week and the sight of him makes my heart clench.
Either he hasn’t spotted me yet or he is ignoring me. Actually, no one in the
group has noticed Mae or me. What the hell is this group? What kind of
tour is this? The guys never go on Wild Times tours.
I turn to Mae, but stop when I notice Logan’s parents. What are they
doing here? What is happening?
Mae squeezes my hand right as I hear Logan’s voice. And of course, he is
in super sexy tour guide mode. “So that’s the history of that. Moving on.
Mom, Dad, Grandma, Hunter, Kaela, Wilder, Grey, Brady, and Denver. You
are many of the most important people in my life and I can’t wait to show
you something. Check that, someone. If you look over here, you will see
someone unique to Joshua Tree. It’s Sawyer Gaines. She’s not native to the
area, but I’m hoping she stays.”
Ummm, what?
Everyone turns to stare at me as Logan pauses.
Holy shit.
All eyes are on me and I’m wishing I spent more than seven minutes
getting ready this morning, or maybe, you know, looked in the mirror.
Mae squeezes my hand and I’m still so confused that I fear a constipated
expression is once again back on my face. But, before I can figure out what
in the ever-loving hell is happening, someone—Wilder—asks, “Are you
two together?”
Without taking his eyes off me, Logan responds. “No, because I messed
up. But I’m hoping that Sawyer gives me another chance.”
Oh. I swallow.
Someone else in the group asks, “What did you do?”
Still not breaking eye contact with me, Logan says, “Good question. If I
had half a brain, I would have told anyone that would listen that I love her
and she was my girlfriend. With what little brain cells I possess, I plan on
asking her for another chance. Another chance to claim her. Another chance
to be with her. Another chance to be her boyfriend.”
Everyone in the group glances back and forth between him and me as if
following an intense game of ping-pong.
I stand there, frozen in place.
Another voice—Mae’s—rings out. “Why are you such an idiot?”
“Good question.” Everyone laughs and I can’t help but relax. “I’m an
idiot because I let stupid shit from the past that had nothing to do with us
come between us. I’m sorry and I promise it won’t happen again. I love you
and I’m hoping you will give me the chance to show you how much.”
Right now, I am working hard not to ugly cry. It’s taking all of my energy
and then there is the whole thing where everyone is staring at me to see
what I’m going to say or do. I can’t speak, though.
“Should Sawyer choose a more studly man?” Another question from the
crowd, this one no doubt from Denver.
“Fuck off, asshole.” Everyone laughs.
“Logan! No f words when you are trying to win your girl back!” This
comes from an older woman that I imagine is his grandma based on what he
has told me about her.
Turning my attention back to him, I find my voice, albeit a wobbly one.
“Yeah Logan, no f words.”
His face changes from exasperated with his grandma to relief at my
joking tone. “Sorry. Sorry,” he repeats, turning to the crowd before bringing
his focus back to me. “I messed up and I hurt you. I think I was half in love
with you after the grocery store. Everyone knew it, but I kept denying it
because I thought I would lose you that much faster if that was the case.
That’s stupid, and it doesn’t even make sense. But I still should have been
better for you. It’s inexcusable and I’m sorry. If you give me another
chance, I promise to do it right this time. That’s why I invited my family
and our friends here. So that there will be no question again that I’m yours
and you’re mine. I want everyone to know from the beginning. And…” he
holds up a finger while he unbuttons his shirt, turning his back to the rest of
us.
“Well, this is taking a weird turn,” I say as he tries to shrug out of his
flannel shirt. I’m all for seeing Logan strip, but if he turns this into a Magic
Mike moment with his family here, I might have to walk.
Freeing himself of his shirt, he turns back around to face us. “And I will
happily wear this shirt every day, so there is no question.”
I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing. Logan’s white t-shirt has been
(messily) decorated with pink puffy paint and now reads: Sawyer’s
boyfriend.
“So, not to put you on the spot, but, yes, to put you on the spot. What do
you say?”
Logan stops talking and I see it. The vulnerability. The nerves. He isn’t
sure what I’m going to say. He put himself out there and he’s not sure if I’m
going to take him back or kick him to the curb. How could he not know? A
little voice in my head answers my question. The same way you didn’t
know how he felt. I guess we are all a little fucked up, huh?
I smile back at him, but turn to address the crowd first. “Hi everyone. So,
this is super embarrassing, but I want to kiss Logan, and it’s a little weird to
make out with him with everyone watching, especially his family. So
maybe you could—” Before I am even done talking, Logan’s hands are on
my hips, spinning me to face him, and then his lips are crashing down on
mine.
I allow myself to stop thinking and instead just feel. Feel his hands on my
hips. Feel his mouth on mine. Feel his heart beating as he pulls me against
his chest. After almost a week of pushing every feeling to the side, I let
them all in.
And then I put it all into that kiss. I slide my arms around his neck and
pull him even closer, if possible. Forgetting myself and my surroundings, I
part my lips and run my tongue along the seam of his lips. He parts for me
and we deepen the kiss. I’m lost in it until he grows hard against me.
Remembering where we are, I pull back a few inches. “Really?” I whisper.
“Now? With an audience?”
He gives a little laugh and nuzzles his nose against my neck. “Not sorry.”
He kisses my cheek. “Are we good?”
I lean in and kiss him again. “We are better than good. We still need to
talk about things, but I love you and that will not change.”
He sighs. “Agreed. I love you too, and I missed you so much this week.”
One more kiss. “Life is better with you in it.”
Logan pulls me in for a hug and we stand like that for a minute, with our
arms wrapped around each other as the crowd of people cheers (and, of
course, makes inappropriate comments).
After our reunion, everyone leaves us alone. I start to protest because I
should say hello to everyone and meet the rest of his family. He assures me
they are all on their way to Wilder’s for brunch and that we will join them
soon.
Logan and I wander around for a bit, walking and talking, unable to stop
touching each other. As much as I want to get him somewhere private so I
can jump him, there are a few things we need to talk about first.
And as we talk, I realize the major problem with our first go-round was
that I had been always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Logan to put
an end to it. And that made me powerless in my feelings for him. So as
much fun as Logan and I had, as great as the sex was, as easy as it was to be
with him, it was always in the back of my mind that he could end it at any
minute, because I knew I would not be the one to do it, as I wanted more
from the beginning. Walking around now, I’m light and free. Logan laid it
all out on the line, and no more secrets are holding us back.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispers, tugging my arm and pulling me in
close to him once again.
“So you have said.” I reach out and run a hand through his hair.
“Well, I’m never going to stop being sorry.”
I frown at this. “No. You need to stop now. You apologized. I forgave
you. Now we need to move on. We are starting fresh.” Logan protests, but I
continue. “We are both going to fuck up in the future. We are two very
opinionated people and we are going to disagree and argue from time to
time. But we will not throw old shit in each other’s faces. So that needs to
be the last time you apologize for that.”
Logan stares into my eyes as if trying to check that I mean what I say.
“No holding back anymore. For either of us.”
“Agreed. On that note, I will admit that as much as I want to go to
Wilder’s, I’d rather get you alone first.”
Logan drops a line of kisses from my neck to my mouth. “Oh Sawyer, the
plans I have for you. Thank God you have tomorrow off as well, because
you are going to have a difficult time walking.”
I pull back, making a face. “Ewwww.” I laugh while I say it because I
can’t decide if it’s funny, gross, or kind of hot. Maybe all the above?
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirty-Nine
OceanofPDF.com
SAWYER
WHEN WE ARRIVE AT Wilder’s, I’m happy to see that everyone is
eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves. I am reintroduced to Logan’s
parents and apologies are made for our disaster of a first meeting. They are,
as expected, lovely people and I can’t wait to get to know them better.
Logan also introduces me to his grandma, his brother, Hunter, and his sister,
Kaela. He explains it took him several days to pull his head out of his ass,
so this was last minute and his brother Eli was out of town and his sister,
Olivia, had something she couldn’t skip.
I feel horrible that everyone rearranged their plans and went to such
lengths to come here. For me.
“I can see that big brain of yours working overtime and you need to stop.
Nobody was put out by coming here. Everyone was more than happy to.”
His words warm me, even if I’m still embarrassed by it all.
Logan and I spend the next few hours at Wilder’s, enjoying the company
of our friends and his family. Logan has been touching me nonstop since we
arrived. An arm around my shoulder, a hand on my lower back, or our
fingers intertwined.
Now, we are all gathered by the door, exchanging hugs and saying our
goodbyes. Denver and Grey took off a while ago, needing to get to work.
Logan’s dad, Kaela, and his grandma left an hour ago as it had been an
eventful morning for his grandma and she needed to get home to rest. Brady
and Wilder are in the kitchen cleaning up, and Mae, Logan, and I are
chatting with his remaining family.
His mom pulls me into a hug and whispers, “I’m so happy you found
each other.” Her sweet words bring instant tears to the surface and I scrunch
my nose to not let my tears leak out. I nod my head as if to say, “me too,”
and she squeezes my hand. “Olivia and Eli were sad to miss this, but I hope
you can all meet soon. Maybe Christmas?”
I’m so overwhelmed by today. There has been so much love, acceptance,
and kindness that I’m not sure how to handle it. I woke up this morning still
heartbroken and now it’s only around noon and I’m being invited to
Christmas at my boyfriend’s parents’ house. It’s a lot, but I love it.
Ever since I arrived in Preserve, I have had a thousand tiny moments that
have led up to this one – feeling at home. Not since my summers with my
grandparents have I felt this. In the years between then and now, I have
been restless and unsettled, never quite fitting in. This town, this job, Mae,
the rest of the guys, and especially Logan have allowed me to stop looking
for home, because I have found it. And now, with Logan’s mom inviting me
to their family home, it’s all too much. But, it’s also just right.
“Can I get back to you?” I ask. “I was planning to go home to New York,
but maybe Logan and I can figure something out.”
“Of course, no pressure, dear. Just wanted to let you know you are
welcome at our house anytime, holiday or not.”
I put a hand over my heart. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Then Mae and I watch from the front door as Logan walks his mom and
Hunter to their car.
“Do you know Hunter well?” I ask Mae.
“No. He doesn’t talk much. He’s a lot more uptight than the rest of
them.”
“But, just as good looking.” I nudge her with my elbow.
“No, Sawyer. Just, no.”
“Maybe he will be my pick for you,” I joke.
“Ahhhhh, can you imagine? I’m sure he would think I was certifiable.”
I laugh. “He totally would. Hunter McGuire would not know what to do
with you, that’s for sure.”
We keep laughing at the thought as we head to the kitchen to help with
the rest of the cleanup.
Another hour later and, Logan and I walk through the door of my
townhouse. I drop everything I have been carrying on the couch and turn to
him. “Come here,” he demands. I raise an eyebrow. “Please,” he amends.
My face has cracked in two from the perma-smile I’ve been sporting all
day. “Better. Although you know I kind of like it when you get bossy.” I
walk over to him and he reaches out for me, but right before he touches me,
I duck under his arm and run down the hallway to my room. The second I
cross the threshold of my room, he tackles me on my bed.
“Thought you could get away from me, huh?”
“Never,” I say. “I’m trying to hurry the process along of getting you in
my bed.”
“I approve,” he says, rolling us over and settling himself between my
legs. He hovers over me, dropping kisses along my jaw, on my cheek, on
my lips, and then working his way down my body. “Too. Many. Clothes.”
Logan rolls to the side as a flurry of movement sets in and we divest
ourselves of our clothes.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I can’t wait to live our lives together.”
OceanofPDF.com
Epilogue
IT’S BEEN ONE YEAR to the day since I met Sawyer. Normal people
might keep track of the anniversary of their first date or first kiss or when
they made things official. Not me. Seared into my memory for the rest of
this life - and for whatever life comes after this one - is the day I met
Sawyer Gaines in the parking lot of our local grocery store.
Of course, we didn’t technically meet that day. I didn’t learn her name
and she for sure didn’t ask for mine, but it was my first taste of her. The
first time my mind and body were jolted awake by the strong, confident,
beautiful, feisty woman that I get to call mine.
Thankfully, first impressions aren’t everything because otherwise, she
would think I’m a sexist asshole who drives a big truck to overcompensate.
I can’t help it. I let out a laugh at the memory. Life is bizarre. As I sat in my
truck at the stoplight and watched her drive away, did I have any inkling
that she was it for me?
Well, no.
I wish I could say I did, but not a chance.
I wanted to know her name and more about her, but no chance I knew we
would end up here.
Today, I’m going to once again approach her in the grocery store parking
lot, but this time, instead of asking if she needs help, I’m going to ask her to
be mine. Forever.
In a departure from my normal behavior, I have been tight-lipped about
my plans. We are with our friends a lot and we all lack boundaries, but I
want this moment to be about me and Sawyer. I hemmed and hawed about
whether I should ask her dad’s permission. Scratch that, I knew she
wouldn’t be into that. But, I wanted to include her family somehow, so I
asked her mom, dad, and sister’s permission to become a part of their
family. I thought Sawyer would approve of that much, right? I felt a little
weird video chatting with them after only meeting them one time in the past
year, but they seemed excited about it. Fingers crossed, Sawyer is cool with
me asking them.
Also, I didn’t pick out a ring. I’m guessing that Sawyer would want to
pick out something herself if she is going to wear it every day for the rest of
our lives. When I say it like that, it makes no sense to me that any person
would pick out a ring for another person. I’m even a little surprised that
Sawyer hasn’t been able to one-up me and propose first. I think that would
be bad ass. I would still propose to her too, but I like the idea of her
proposing. However, I think I’m going to beat her to the punch, seeing as
I’m in the parking lot and she is inside shopping.
Ever since I pulled my head out of my ass about nine months ago, things
between Sawyer and me could not be better. If I was Denver, I might
describe it as magical, but I’m not, so instead, I’ll say that I’m a lucky dude.
I never officially moved in with her, but for all intents and purposes, I
moved in with her the day we got back together, transitioning my stuff out
of my and Brady’s house little by little. Brady is going to buy me out of our
house so that Sawyer and I can purchase a home together. We, of course,
fight. Nothing’s perfect and it’s at times difficult sharing a life with another
person, but it is so much better than going at it alone. At least for me. I love
Sawyer and I love our life together.
Right then, I spot Sawyer walking through the doors of the grocery store
and heading for her car. Mae helped me get Sawyer to the grocery store. I
didn’t tell her why, but Mae isn’t an idiot and I know she figured it out
immediately, even if she didn’t say it.
I hop out of my car and start making my way over towards Sawyer’s car
on the other side of the lot. She’s oblivious as I slip between the rows of
cars.
Taking a breath to calm my nerves, I say the line I have practiced over
and over for today. “Let me help you with that.” Sawyer stiffens before
turning around to me.
“What are you do-”
I don’t give her a chance to finish her question. “From time to time, the
thought pops into my head that I need to track down that asshole who was
giving you a hard time and thank him. Send him a big fruit basket or
something like that. But then I’m reminded that if I hadn’t first seen you in
this parking lot, then I would have met you when I had the flat tire, or at
another time, Mae would have introduced us. You see, Sawyer, you and I,
we were inevitable.” I clear my throat, trying to work past tears threatening
to spill down my cheeks. I don’t care if Sawyer sees me cry. She has plenty
of times, but I want to get through this without first turning into a
blubbering mess.
“Logan,” she breathes. My girl is quick, and she knows where this is
heading.
I better keep this short and sweet. “Sawyer, I love you and my life is so
much better with you in it. Will you marry me and let me love you every
day for the rest of our lives?”
Sawyer jumps in my arms, almost knocking me over. Tears streaming
down her face. “Of course, but only if you let me love you every day as
well.”
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About Author
It took Ivy Evergreen way too long to figure out she shouldn’t just be a
voracious reader of romance, she should write it, too. Now, she can add that
title to the others already in her life: mom, wife, teacher, and book nerd.
Ivy’s travels with her family provide inspiration for the backdrops to the
funny, feminist romances (yes, it’s a thing) she writes.
When she is not writing, reading, or traveling with her family, Ivy dreams
about living in a world where she won’t be judged for reading books with
sexy covers while devouring handfuls of trail mix.
Connect with Ivy on Instagram – @IvyEvergreenBooks
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Coming Soon from Ivy Evergreen
Coming Summer 2022 is Book Two of the In the Desert Series. Get
excited. It is time for Mae’s story. Does she follow through on her
ridiculous idea to let all of her friends set her up? Does one of them set her
up with the one? Or, does she figure it out all on her own? Either way, it’s
sure to be a fun adventure, because there is no telling what will come out of
her mouth.
Thank you for taking the time to read this book – my first one! Please
consider writing an Amazon review.
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