Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer

Sawyer narrowed his gaze at his brother, but there was no menace in the look. “I have an appointment with Darlene tomorrow so she can get her flu shot. Maybe I’ll mention your fondness for Mississippi mud pie. I hear Darlene’s quite a cook.”

Gabe took a step back, his grin replaced with a look of pure horror. “You fight dirty, Sawyer, you know that?”

Honey was amazed at the amount of grudging respect in Gabe’s tone, as if fighting dirty impressed him. And then he stomped away. Sawyer laughed.

She wondered if she would ever understand this unique clan of men. She looked up at Sawyer. “What in the world was that all about?”

A half smile tilted his mouth. “Darlene has the hots for Gabe and she’s looking to get married. She’s been chasing him pretty hard for a while. Gabe has this old-fashioned sense of gallantry toward women, so he can’t quite bring himself to come right out and tell her to leave him alone. He remains cautiously polite, and she remains determined.”

“So if you mentioned a pie…”

“She’d be here every day with one.” He grinned again and gently started her on her way. He moved slowly to accommodate her. The bath had tired her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. Being sick or weak wasn’t an easy concept to accept. Not for Honey.

“Why doesn’t Gabe like her?”

“He likes her fine. She’s a very attractive woman, beautiful even. Gabe went through school with her. I sometimes think that’s the problem for him. He knows all the women around here so well. Gabe doesn’t want to get serious about anyone, so he tries to avoid the women who are too obvious.”

“Darlene’s obvious?”

Sawyer shrugged. “Where Gabe’s concerned, they all are. Darlene was just the first name to come to mind.”

“Then she won’t really be here tomorrow?”

“Nope.” He put his arm around her waist and offered his support. “Come on, let’s get that shirt and get to dinner so the savages can eat. If I leave them hungry too long, they’re liable to turn on each other.”

SAWYERWATCHEDHER nibble delicately on her meal. And he watched his brothers watch her, amused that they were all so distracted by her. She looked uncomfortable with all the notice, but she didn’t stomp on any more toes.

He doubted she had the energy for that. Her face was pale, her eyes dark with fatigue. Yet she refused to admit it. She had a lot of backbone, he’d give her that. As soon as she finished eating, he planned to tuck her back up in bed where she belonged.

He sat across from her—a deliberate choice so he could watch her. Gabe sat beside him, Casey sat beside her, with Morgan and Jordan at the head and foot of the table.

She’d been all round eyes and female amazement as she’d looked at the house on the way to the kitchen. Her appreciation warmed him. Most women who got through the front door were bemused with the styling of the house, all exposed pine and high ceilings and masculine functionality. The house wasn’t overly excessive, but it was certainly comfortable for a family of large men. It had been his father’s dream home, and his mother had readily agreed to it. At least, that’s how she liked to tell it.

Sawyer grinned, because in truth, he knew there were few things his mother ever did readily. She was a procrastinator and liked to think things over thoroughly. Unlike his guest, who’d barreled through his fence and landed in his lake and then proceeded to try to slug him.

Sawyer noticed Morgan staring at him, and he wiped the grin off his face.

He returned his gaze to Honey and saw her look around the large kitchen. They never used the dining room, not for daily meals. But the kitchen was immense, one of the largest rooms in the house, and the place where they all seemed to congregate most often. For that reason they had a long pine table that could comfortably seat eight, as well as a short bar with three stools that divided the eating area from the cooking area. Pots hung on hooks, accessible, and along the outside wall there was a row of pegs that held everything from hats and jackets to car and truck keys. The entire house had black checked curtains at the windows, but the ones in the kitchen were never closed. With the kitchen on the same side of the house as his bedroom, there was always a view of the lake. His mother had planned it that way because, she claimed, looking at the lake made the chore of doing dishes more agreeable. After they’d gotten older and all had to take their turn, they’d agreed. Then they’d gotten a dishwasher, but still there were times when one or more of them would be caught there, drinking a glass of milk or snacking and staring at the placid surface of the lake.

Honey shifted, peeking up through her lashes to find a lot of appreciative eyes gazing at her. She glanced back down with a blush. She was an enticing mix of bravado and shyness, making demands one minute, pink-cheeked the next.

He liked seeing his shirt on her, this one a soft, worn flannel in shades of blue that did sexy things for her eyes. And he liked the way her heavy hair half tumbled down her nape, escaping the loose knot and braid, with silky strands draping her shoulders.

She didn’t look as chilled, and he wondered if her nipples were still pebbled, if they pressed against his shirt.

His hand shook and he dropped his fork, taking the attention away from Honey. To keep his brothers from embarrassing him with lurid comments on his state of preoccupation, he asked Honey, “How come your car was filled with stuff, but no clothes?”

She swallowed a tiny bite of chicken and shrugged. She’d drunk nearly a full glass of tea but only picked at her food. “I left in a hurry. And that stuff was already in my car.”

Sawyer glanced around and saw the same level of confusion on his brothers’ faces that he felt.

Morgan pushed his empty plate away and folded his arms on the edge of the table. “Why was the stuff already in your car?”

She coughed, drank some tea, rubbed her forehead. Finally she looked at Morgan dead on. “Because I hadn’t unloaded it yet.” She aligned her fork carefully beside her plate and asked in her low, rough voice, “Why did you decide to become a sheriff?”

He looked bemused for just a moment, the customary scowl gone from his face. “It suited me.” His eyes narrowed and he asked, “What do you mean you hadn’t unloaded it? Unloaded it from where?”

“I’d just left my fiancé that very week. All I’d unloaded out of the car were my clothes and the things I needed right away. Before I could get the rest of the boxes out, I had to leave again. So the stuff was still in there. What do you mean, being a sheriff suits you? In what way?”

Her question was momentarily ignored while a silence as loud as a thunderclap hovered over the table. No one moved. No one spoke. All the brothers were watching Sawyer.

He drew a low breath. “She’s not engaged anymore.”

Gabe looked surprised. “She’s not?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Morgan demanded. “What happened?”

Before Sawyer could form an answer, Honey turned very businesslike. “What do you mean, being a sheriff suits you?”

A small, ruthless smile touched Morgan’s mouth as he caught on to her game. He leaned forward. “I get to call the shots since I’m the sheriff. People have to do what I say, and I like it. Why did you leave your fiancé?”

“I found out he didn’t love me. And what makes you think people have to obey you? Do you mean you lord your position over them? You take advantage?”

“On occasion. Did you love your fiancé?”

“As it turns out…no. What occasions?”

Morgan didn’t miss a beat. “Like the time I knew Fred Barker was knocking his wife around, but she wouldn’t complain. I found him drunk in town and locked him up. Every time I catch him drinking, I run him through the whole gambit of sobriety tests. And I find a reason to heavily fine him when I can’t stick him in jail. He found out drinking was too expensive, and sober, he doesn’t abuse his wife.” He tilted his head. “If you didn’t love the guy, why the hell were you engaged to him in the first place?”

“For reasons of my own. If you—”

“Uh-uh. Not good enough, honey. What reasons?”

“None of your business.”

His voice became silky and menacing. “You’re afraid to tell me?”

“No.” She stared down her nose at him. Even with dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and her hair more down than up, the look was effectively condescending. “I just don’t like being provoked. And you’re doing it deliberately.”

Morgan burst out laughing—a very rare occurrence—and dropped back in his chair. The way Jordan and Gabe stared at him, amazed, only made him laugh harder.

Sawyer appreciated the quick way she turned the tables on his dominating brother. It didn’t happen often, and almost never with women. Evidently, Morgan had been amused by her, too, because he could be the most ruthless bastard around when it suited him. Sawyer was glad he hadn’t had to intervene. He wouldn’t have let Morgan badger her, but he had been hoping Morgan could get some answers.

He found Honey could be very closemouthed when it suited her. It amazed him that she could look almost pathetically frail and weak one moment, then mean as a junkyard dog the next.

Gabe waved his fork. “Morgan does everything deliberately. It’s annoying, but it does make him a good sheriff. He doesn’t react off the cuff, if you know what I mean.”