“Here you go, Willow,” she says as she steps toward the register.
“That obvious I’m new in town?” I ask.
She hands her credit card to the lady, “Nah, but in a town this size, all the residents know each other, so we always know who’s visiting.”
“I’ve rented a cabin up in the mountains for the next three months, so you’ll probably see me around quite a bit. I’m Quinn, by the way.” I motion for the lady in line behind me to step up ahead of me so I can finish my conversation with Willow.
“I’m Willow, as you heard. I’m guessing you’re renting from Sawyer Archer?”
“Yeah, just up the mountain.” I’m curious about the way she said his name.
“Three months living with Sawyer, Lord bless you,” she says quickly and almost under her breath. “Well, you’ll be in town for our annual Fall Festival if you’re looking for some social activities. It’s nothing crazy, but it’s a fun time. There’s a parade, a corn maze, a pumpkin carving contest, and a barn dance. Yeah, barn dance,” she says, laughing a little when she sees me arch my eyebrows. “That’s mountain-town life.”
“It all sounds really amazing, actually. I’d love to go.”
She reaches into her wallet, pulls out her business card, and hands it to me. “That has my personal cell on it, so just text me anytime. Even if you just want to hang out or need a local guide. Or hey, if you need a loan. I’m a loan officer over here at the local bank. Speaking of . . .” she grabs the big white box off the counter and glances at her watch, “got to keep the big boys happy and full. But seriously, text me. It was great meeting you, Quinn.” She gives me a big smile before thanking the woman behind the counter and scurrying out the front door.
I turn around and see the petite, raven-haired lady smiling back at me. “Did you decide on something, hon?” she asks.
“I’ll take a country peach hand pie and a vanilla latte, please.”
“I heard you telling Willow you’re new in town, so welcome! I’m Violet, and I own the bakery.”
Everyone here is so friendly and welcoming—everyone but Sawyer, it seems. “This place is just adorable and the smell is divine!” I reply.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” she laughs. She hands me the hand pie and turns around to make my drink.
“So what brings you to Grand Lake?” she asks over the whistle of the steaming milk.
“Oh, just wanted a change of scenery and some inspiration, I’m writing a book.” I don’t yet feel super-comfortable opening up to strangers about my mom.
“A book? That’s exciting. I hope you can find plenty of inspiration here. I know I love every second of this place. Just something about the mountain air,” she says, handing me my drink and wiping her hands on the front of her pink-striped apron.
I came here to be inspired by the town, but I find myself wondering more and more about Sawyer and his story. Is he broken and tormented like Gen suggested? I smile, thanking her and paying for my items before heading out to walk down the street and check out all the shops on my way to the grocery store.
As I exit and make my way down the street, I see a tall man walking out of a business and getting into a lifted black truck: Sawyer’s truck, which I saw him getting into this morning. He turns and his gaze meets mine. It is Sawyer, and my stomach clenches at the sight of him. I see him nod slightly before pulling himself up into the truck, firing it up, and pulling out of the parking lot.
I glance up at the name of the business: Grand Lake Jeep Rental. That must be where he works. I’m tempted to go inside and check it out, but realize that might be a tad creepy if it gets back to him that I was scoping out his business.
Instead, I enjoy my peach hand pie and latte and make my way to the grocery store. It’s small inside but curated with plenty of amazing local and fine foods. I grab a basket and make my way toward the baking aisle. This place is small, but it has all of the things I’ll need to make blueberry muffins for Sawyer.
Once I gather my ingredients, I realize that I should offer to make him dinner. I pick up some fresh salmon, salad greens, asparagus, potatoes, and a hunk of cracked peppercorn goat cheese that looks delicious. I pick up a few necessities for myself—mostly snacks and food staples so I’m not up and down the mountain every day just to eat.
I pay for my things and make my way back toward my car—a little giddy thinking about cooking dinner for Sawyer. The words Willow said earlier come flooding back and I flinch. Was she his ex? I realize I know nothing about this man, but something intangible seems to be pulling me toward him, and I know that if given the chance, I’d do exactly what Gen said earlier . . . have a delicious, torrid affair and let him bang my brains out.
Four
Sawyer
I glance at the clock hanging in my workshop and realize I need to leave in a few minutes to get to my meeting with the Slade brothers in Loveland. We’ve been in talks for the better part of a year about opening up a restaurant together. I’d mostly be a financial backer as well providing all of the custom furniture for the dining area. Drake and Colton would manage the food and beverage side of things.
I wipe down my workstation, put my tools away, and head out to my truck. The drive to Loveland is a little over two hours, so I put on some Willie Nelson and crack my window to enjoy the autumn air. I barely get five minutes of peace before Quinn’s smile pops in my head. The way she waved at me timidly as I climbed in my truck replays in my head. I should have said something instead of ignoring her.
Fuck me.
I don’t know how old she is, but she looks young . . . too young for me. As much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, I’m curious about her story. I already know that once she’s spotted around town, it’ll only be a matter of time before the local douchebags sniff her out. I make a mental note to make sure Will, the bartender over at The Place, our local diner, keeps his fucking hands off of her.
“She’s not your fuckin’ problem, Sawyer,” I say to myself, but it doesn’t work. The thought of seeing some of the locals hitting on her has me gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.
By the time I pull up to the vacant building we’re looking at today, I’m in a pissed-off mood.
I’m pissed that I can’t stop thinking about this damn woman I don’t even know.
Pissed that I care about her.
Pissed that I want her.
“Hey, man,” Colton says, extending his hand to me as I approach the brothers. Drake is speaking to the realtor about how the town is planning to fix the broken sidewalk in front of the building.
“Hey,” I reply, trying to pretend I’m not as frustrated as a caged cat in heat.
“Justine?” he asks.
“What?”
“Is it Justine?” he repeats.
I’m confused. “Is Justine what?”
“Christ, man, is Justine the reason you’re in a mood?” Colton says, a little exasperated, just as Drake walks over to us.
“Sawyer’s in a mood?” he smirks.
“No, I’m not in a mood.” I kick at the broken sidewalk pieces at my feet.