Lori Foster - Buckhorn Beginnings - Sawyer

She heard the shifting of masculine feet, a few rumbling questions, then Sawyer leaned down, his hand gently cradling the back of her head. “Honey?”

With new resolution she pushed her chair back, forcing Sawyer to move. “You’re not going to let up on this, are you?”

Morgan snorted. Sawyer shook his head.

“All right.” With an exaggerated sigh, she looked down, trying to feign weary defeat when inside she teemed with determination. “I’ll tell you anything I can. But it’s a long, complicated story. Couldn’t it wait until the morning?”

She peeked up and caught Sawyer’s suspicious frown. With a forced cough that quickly turned real, she said, “My throat is already sore. And I’m so tired.”

Just that easily, Sawyer was swayed. He took her arm and helped her away from the table. “The morning will be fine. You’ve overdone it today.”

By morning, she’d be long gone. And once she got to the next town, she’d contact her sister and let her know she was all right, then she could go with her original plan. She’d hire a private detective and pay him to figure out what was going on while she stayed tucked away, and those she cared about would stay safely uninvolved. She’d never forget this incredible family of men…but they would quickly forget her.

“Sawyer…” Morgan said in clear warning, obviously not pleased with the plan. Honey knew that particular brother couldn’t care less if she was sick. Even though she wasn’t really that sick, not anymore. But he didn’t know it.

“It’s under control, Morgan.” Sawyer’s tone brooked no arguments.

Morgan did hesitate, but then he forged on. “I know Honey’s still getting over whatever ails her, but we really do need—”

With a loud gasp, she froze, then stiffened as his words sank in. Slowly, she turned to face Morgan. “You know my name.”

There was no look of guilt on his hard, handsome face, just an enigmatic frown.

Sawyer shook his head in irritation while glaring at Morgan. “Around here, everything female is called honey.”

Casey nodded. “We’ve got an old mule out in the field that Jordan named Honey because that’s all she’d answer to.”

She almost laughed at the sincerity on Casey’s face, but instead she pulled free of Sawyer’s hold and blazed an accusation. “He wasn’t using an endearment. He was using my name.”

Morgan shrugged. “Honey Malone. Yeah, I went through your purse.”

Her eyes widened. “You admit it? Just like that?” She nearly choked on resentment and coughed instead.

While Sawyer patted her on the back and Casey hurried to hand her a drink, Morgan said, “Why not?” He rolled his massive shoulders, not the least concerned with her ire. “You show up here under the most suspicious circumstances and you claim someone is trying to hurt you. Of course I wanted some facts. And how could I run that check on you if I didn’t have your name? I thought you’d already figured that out.”

Her mouth opened twice, but nothing came out. She should have realized he’d already gone through her things, only she’d been so busy trying to hold her own against him, and she’d taken his words as an idle threat, not a fait accompli. She was making a lot of stupid mistakes, trusting them all when she shouldn’t.

Tonight. She had to leave tonight.

Then she remembered her bare feet and wanted to groan. She couldn’t very well get on a bus without shoes. Maybe she could swipe a pair from Casey. She glanced at his feet and saw they were as large as Sawyer’s. Good grief, she was in a house of giants.

Sawyer tipped up her chin. “He only looked in your wallet to find your name. He didn’t go through every pocket or anything. Your privacy wasn’t invaded any more than necessary. Your purse is in the closet in my room, if you want to check and make sure nothing is missing.”

She ground her teeth together. “It isn’t that.” The last thing she was worried about was them stealing from her. She had little enough with her that was worth anything.

“Then what is it?”

She thought quickly, but trying to rationalize her behavior while the touch of Sawyer’s hand still lingered on her face was nearly impossible. Everything about him set her off, but especially his touch. No matter where his fingers lingered, she felt it everywhere. “I…I don’t have any shoes.”

He frowned down at her bare feet for a long moment. “Are your feet cold?”

She wanted to hit him, but instead she turned away. Her brain was far too muddled to keep this up. If she didn’t get away from him, she’d end up begging him to let her stay. “I’m going to bed now. Jordan, thank you for dinner.”

He answered in his low, mesmerizing voice, no less effective for the shortness of his reply. “My pleasure.”

She glanced at him. “I’d offer to help with the dishes, but I have the feeling—”

“Your offer would definitely be turned down.”

Sawyer released her, but added, “I’ll be in to check on you in a few minutes.”

The last thing she needed was to be tempted by him again. “No, thank you.”

He stared at her hard, his gaze unrelenting. “In a few minutes, Honey, so do whatever it is you feel you have to do before going to bed. I left the antibiotics and the ibuprofen on the bathroom counter so you wouldn’t forget to take them. After you’re settled, I want to listen to your chest again.”

There was a lot of ribald macho humor over that remark. Jordan choked down a laugh, and this time Gabe kicked him.

With a glare that encompassed them all, Honey stalked off. She was truly weary and wondering where in the world she was going to find shoes for her feet so she could steal a car and make her getaway from a group of large, overprotective, domineering men whom she didn’t really want to leave at all.

Gads, life had gotten complicated.

HEKNOCKEDon the door, but she didn’t answer. Sawyer assumed she was mad and ignoring him, not that he’d let her get away with it. He opened the door just a crack—and saw the bed was empty. She was gone. His first reaction was pure rage, tinged with panic, totally out of proportion, totally unexpected. He shoved the door wide and stalked inside, and then halted abruptly when he saw her. His gut tightened and his heart gave a small thump at the picture she presented.

Honey sat on the small patio outside his room. She had her feet curled up on a chair, her head resting to the side, and she was looking at the lake. Or maybe she wasn’t looking at anything at all. He couldn’t see her entire face, only a small part of her profile. She looked limp, totally wrung out, and it angered him again when he thought of her stubbornness, her refusal to let him help her.

No one had ever refused his help. He was the oldest, and his brothers relied on him for anything they might need, including advice. Casey got everything from him that he had to give. Members of the community sought him out when they needed help either with a medical problem or any number of other things. He was a figurehead in the town, on the town council and ready and willing to assist. He gave freely, whatever the need might be, considering it his right, part and parcel with who and what he was. But now, this one small woman wanted to shut him out. Like hell.

Her physical impact on his senses was staggering. But it was nothing compared to the damn emotional impact, because the emotions were the hardest to fight and to understand. If it was only sex he wanted, he’d drive over the county limits and take care of the need. But he wanted her specifically, and it was making him nuts.

Being summer, it was still light out at eight o’clock, but the sun was starting to sink in the sky, slowly dipping behind a tree-topped hill across the lake. The last rays of sunshine sent fiery ribbons of color over the smooth surface of the water. A few ducks swam by, and far out a fish jumped.