Chapter 14

Sawyer

I don't think Reece can handle all the attention that comes with being the new guy. I slipped up and mentioned that he was not just from Arizona, but from uber-sophisticated Paradise Valley, and the amount of teasing he endured in the first week for being a city slicker was sinful. He took it in his stride, even if his face was a permanent shade of Snow White's red apple.

I don't think he likes big crowds because he stays close to me. He never joins in and sits down for lunch with the others until he's asked. And if I'm busy with something, he waits for me and we join the rest together.

After a month of working alongside him, teaching him how to use a chainsaw, how to correctly strip branches and how to tell Brian to fuck off, it's like I have a new best friend who follows me around everywhere.

Except, Reece is my husband's ex-boyfriend. Sometimes I think about the promises they made to each other. The promises Asher told me about in the bar seven years ago. Forever. Always. Eternally . And it's confusing that none of it fills me with a husbandly jealousy.

Instead, my thoughts are filled with images of how they would've been together.

I try not to think about the way Reece looks at me sometimes because it makes me feel like someone's hero. Someone I don't want to disappoint simply because he thinks everything I do is amazing. And I find myself wanting to talk better when he's around. Act better. I want to be refined, like him. After meeting him, sometimes I wonder what Asher ever saw in me. I know it's not like that, but sometimes the thought makes its way into my brain.

I'll have to talk to Asher about all these feelings. Soon. I'll talk to him soon.

"City boy break a nail yet?" Brennan asks when he passes by our part of the woodlot, as he's done every morning for the last month and now it's just standard practice.

I glance over at Reece. He's a few feet away, cleaning out the trailer, getting it ready for loading. The sleeves of his blue work shirt are rolled up and his jeans are dirty. He picks his head up and grins. He's lightened up, not so skittish anymore. Removing his protective gloves, he holds out his hands to show Brennan that they're not as delicate as they were a month ago. Then, he looks over at me, his grin widening when he catches me watching their exchange.

I have to look away because . . . I don't know. I have to talk to Asher because there's a lot to like about Reece – like how he never complains about the labor or going home covered in dust every day. He works hard and pulls his weight, and I like his manners and his attentiveness when he's learning. And I'm becoming more and more alarmed by it all.

Equally alarming is how much I also like how he waits for me at lunchtime so we can wash up together.

Asher never asks me how things are going at work. I offer the information anyway, because maybe he would like to know but doesn't know how to ask: Reece is a natural with his hands. He's polite and easy to get along with. We take care of him down at the lot.

What I haven't told Asher yet is how I'm no longer able to deny that there is something about Reece that I find . . . pleasant. As the days pass, I begin to understand why Asher loved him so much. Being around him is nothing too difficult to manage. We've become friends, almost.

By the time lunchtime comes around, I'm all the way across the woodlot, digging into a massive stump. We still have a few minutes left, but I lift my head to watch him. It's become a favorite thing of mine, watching him seek me out.

Just like I knew he would, his eyes scan the woodlot now, looking for me. When he doesn't find me, he goes back to checking his stack of logs. A smile touches my lips.

Setting down the stump grinder, I head toward the trailer. He's bent over the stack of logs, getting them ready to start loading after lunch.

I tap his shoulder. He startles, turning fast. I'm a little too close so he's almost chest to chest with me when he straightens up.

"Oh, hey, Sawyer." He steps back, his eyes darting around. I don't know why it bothers me that he's trying so hard not to look at me.

"Hey," I say, nodding at the stack of logs. "Nice job."

He beams and then waves me away. I've never seen a guy get so happy over compliments, and, at the same time act like it's no big deal. Still, he asks, "Yeah? You really think so?"

"I really think so."

He gazes at the stack of logs and then gives it a pat. "Thanks. I did it in under ten minutes today."

"New record?"

More beaming. "Yep."

"Let's celebrate with lunch."

He rolls his eyes. "Such a stupid thing to celebrate."

I've come to learn a thing or two about what comes out of Reece's mouth versus what's shining out of his eyes. I trust his eyes more than his mouth. "Nothing stupid 'bout beatin' – a bout beatin g – ten minutes. C'mon."

He grins and lets me pull him toward the mobile washbasin. We clean up and take a spot near some tree stumps after grabbing our lunch from the portable storage locker.

I have a potato salad today with bacon bits, and a granola bar.

He digs out a burrito from his canvas tote bag and holds it out to me. I take it from him and he digs out another wrap. Then proceeds to unwrap it and take a bite. I frown, looking at the wrap in my hand. "You want me to set this aside for you?" I ask.

He shakes his head. His mouth is full so I have to wait for him to finish chewing. Reece doesn't talk with his mouth full, like we do. Like I've tried not to do since meeting him. "That one's for you," he says. "I made it myself. First time I ever made a burrito."

My stomach drops. "For me?"

He nods his answer because his mouth is full again. The old feelings from my childhood burst through the passage of time, instantly taking me back to the times when I wished the kids around town would share their food with me when we played outside. Being given things without having to ask for them is the same as someone coming to save you from drowning. To me, the feeling is the same. He has no clue how much he's shaken my world. It started with the apple pies weeks earlier. And now this?

"Thank you," I murmur, setting aside my potato salad.

I sit there for a moment with the burrito in my hand, then, slowly lift it to my mouth. My eyes meet his. He's staring at me, and I swear to God, inside this one second, all I can think about is how Asher must have fucked him and how much he must have loved it. How he must have begged Asher to fuck him some more, the way I beg Asher now. Then, I think about his dick inside Asher's mouth and what he might feel like inside mine.

I clear my throat and lower my eyes. He looks away quickly too.

It's nothing. He's the person Asher loved so much, so he's fascinating, in a way. Especially to someone like me because I'm so different from him.