706 Sugarbush Lane by Penelope Wylde

Chapter 9

Trinity

My eyes fluttered open as the sound of banging pulled me reluctantly from sleep. I blinked as bright sunlight hit my gaze.

Weird. I always made sure the curtains were pulled closed against the sun before I went to sleep.

I turned onto my side and became aware of an odd soreness throughout my body. My hazy mind grasped for the reason my muscles felt so rubbery and the spot between my legs...

I bolted straight up in bed as memories of yesterday seeped into my consciousness.

Holy shit. I’d had sex. I’d had sex with Sawyer Becker.

I did a quick scan of my studio apartment, suddenly very happy my entire living space took up only one room. With the bathroom door open and the light off, I could tell at a glance I was alone.

I flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling tile above my head, eyes wide as it flooded back to me. Every last detail.

Sawyer and I had spent the entire day in my bed. I lost count of the number of times he’d wrung an orgasm from me somewhere after number five.

After the first time, we took our time for the second. He rolled me over on my stomach and licked, kissed and nibbled every inch of my body. Then he pulled me to my knees and sank his hard, beautiful cock deep inside me with long, toe-curling strokes that had me coming on his command.

Lunch came and went with little notice from either of us. But when dinnertime rolled around we both decided eating something would be a good idea.

Coming up empty in my sadly stocked fridge and pantry, Sawyer offered to go pick up dinner.

I’d been caught somewhere between sheer astonishment at his stamina and humiliation at not even having something to offer him to drink on hand.

He hadn’t seemed to care, though. He took a quick shower and went out for food while I had a mini freak out over the idea of Sawyer Becker being the man who claimed my virginity. Then I had a not-so-mini freak out wondering if dinner was just the excuse he used to get out the door without a big scene. Maybe he had no intention of coming back.

After I’d wallowed in my anxiety for a little while, I took myself in hand. I had no control over Sawyer, but I certainly had control over myself. At least I did when he wasn’t around and touching me or kissing me or whispering dirty little descriptions of all the things he wanted to do to my body in my ear.

I’d picked myself up and headed for the shower.

Freak out number three came when I got out of the shower and contemplated what to put on. What did a woman wear when the guy who relieved her of her virginity would be returning any minute? Especially when the guy was sexy, capable, and totally fuckable like Sawyer Becker.

Other women he’d been with probably had a draw full of frilly undies and lacy nighties to tempt him with. Thinking about it now, I should have called Madison. She would have known what to do.

My best friend knew I bought my underwear in sensible packages of three. I had the choice between white cotton or black cotton. And once I solved the underwear issue, should I dress again in my jeans and T-shirt? My pajamas were as utilitarian as my undies, flannel and threadbare in spots. I couldn’t see donning those to entice Sawyer back to my bed.

I’m such a freaking mess.

Did I even want to entice Sawyer back to my bed? What the heck had I been thinking of?

Sawyer put a quick end to all my freaking out. He’d strolled back into the apartment, his arms full of bags, while I stood there still in my towel from the shower.

Before I could pull anything on, he’d dropped the bags by the door and had the towel tugged from my body in an instant. He’d then pulled me to the floor and taught me how much I liked being on top while riding out my pleasure.

We’d managed to stop to eat before crawling back into bed again. Which led me to now, waking up a little sore in new places and completely alone.

The banging stopped for a second and then started back up again. I realized the sound came from right outside my door at the same time the scent of coffee teased my nose.

As if hypnotized, I slid out of bed and threw on the first thing I found—the Henley Sawyer had been wearing yesterday—and followed my nose straight to the coffee pot.

I found it about three-quarters full and quickly poured myself, doctoring it liberally with milk and sugar. Taking a long sip, I waited for the caffeine to hit my system and then turned my attention to the door.

I walked slowly across the room and took a deep breath before I eased it open. I held it just wide enough to peek outside.

“Morning, beautiful.” Sawyer smiled at me from his spot squatted on the staircase leading up the door. He wore his jeans and the white T-shirt he’d had on underneath the shirt I was currently wearing. I couldn’t help but admire the way it stretched across his chest. I’m not sure how long I stood there, my eyes devouring him, before I realized he held a hammer and a box full of nails sat open on one of the steps next to him.

I tipped my head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing your steps.” His tone said what he managed to refrain from saying—duh. What else would he be doing?

“Why?”

“Didn’t like the feel of them yesterday. Your landlord should have taken care of repairing these a while ago.”

A small snort escaped me. “You’ve got to be kidding me. If I asked my landlord to check the steps, he’d use it as an excuse to jack my rent up another hundred dollars a month. And believe me, this place isn’t worth what I already pay for it.”

His brows drew together. “Is this the place you’ve been living since you moved out from the house with your mother?”

My mother moved out of the house before I did, but I didn’t take the time to correct him. I just nodded.

His gaze shot over my shoulder into the apartment. “So your landlord keeps the interior maintained, but you don’t want to ask him to take care of this?”

I shook my head. “My landlord doesn’t take care of the interior.”

“It’s freshly painted.”

“Yep. By me. I painted it about nine months ago.” I’d fought with myself over the expense, but the place had needed it. Besides, one of the ways I cheered myself up when I was feeling overworked and like I’d never have enough money saved for school was to change the color of my apartment’s walls. “It needed freshening up.”

“You’ve been keeping up the inside.” His words were a statement, not a question.

I shrugged. “I guess. I like it homey and it’s a great location. I have a view of the Sugarbush Ski Slopes and I can walk to work.”

That little apartment was my haven. The one place where I could hide from the world when I needed to just be by myself.

He grinned at me and his eyes, already warm, got even warmer. I stood there basking in his gaze for several long moments before I came to my senses and realized I was sporting a goofy grin of my own.

Good. Lord. I needed to get out of this town fast or I was going to be in major trouble.

The thought brought a weight crashing down on me. So relentless was the feeling, I didn’t know how I stayed on my feet. Suddenly the thought of the one thing I’d been planning and working toward for years made my stomach churn. And not in an excited, butterfly fluttering kind of way.

“You okay?”

I nodded absently and pulled in a shaky breath. To hide my confusion, I questioned him again. “So really, what made you decide to fix the steps for a rental unit? You’re spending your time and effort fixing up someone else’s house. And believe me, my landlord won’t be appreciative. If anything, he'll figure out a way to charge me for it.”

Sawyer’s eyes flashed and I fought the urge to take a step back at his expression. “Might be someone else’s place. But it’s my woman using these steps. I’m going to make sure it’s taken care of.” His eyes narrowed. “And if your landlord gives you any trouble, you let me know. I’ll take care of that, too.”

Whoa. Okay. Talk about a loaded statement. There was so much there I didn’t even know where to start. He’d take care of things? And I was his woman?

No, no, no. I needed about seven more cups of super-charged caffeine before I turned that one over.

Spotting his empty coffee cup on the railing, I snatched it up. “I’ll get you a refill.”

I scurried inside, grateful for the excuse to hide inside for a few minutes. I tucked away the thought of “my woman” and what those words might mean for another time.

I completely ignored the surge of longing that prickled under my skin at the thought of being Sawyer Becker’s woman.

After I brought Sawyer his refill, showered and drank another cup myself, I stared forlornly into the refrigerator. What did I expect? That the food fairies had stocked up while I slept last night?

I wish. I shut the door with a bang and sighed.

A chuckle came from behind me and I whirled around, a hand to my chest. Sawyer leaned against the breakfast bar that separated the little kitchenette from the rest of the apartment.

“You scared me.” Nothing like stating the obvious. My gaze traveled over him. Nobody wearing yesterday’s clothes who had spent his morning engaged in manual labor should look that good. No fair.

He offered me a knowing grin as he stepped past me to rinse his mug in the sink. He turned it upside down and left it in the dish drain when he was done.

I think I was having an out-of-body experience. That’s the only way I could explain the fact that Sawyer Becker stood in my tiny little kitchen doing domestic tasks and drying his hands on my cherry dish towel. Why did it seem almost harder to accept Sawyer in my kitchen than in my bed?

“I’m taking you to breakfast.”

I blinked, my mind trying to shake off the surreal feeling that had stolen over me. “What?”

“Breakfast. Most important meal of the day? Ringing any bells?”

“But you bought dinner last night. And you fixed my stairs.”

“And now I’m going to take you to breakfast.”

I shook my head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, baby. You need to eat. I’m taking you to breakfast.” His voice said case closed.

I pressed my lips together and debated the merits of arguing. Before I could decide, he continued in the same tone. “And after that, I want to take you to my house.”

His house. “Why?”

“Well, I’m going to need a change of clothes at some point. And...”

I don’t know why, but the pause before he continued that sentence caused fear to stab through me.

“...I’d like you to see my home.”

And there it was.

His words hit me like a blow to my gut.

Home.

That word sounded so simple. But Sawyer's home was a Home. With a capital H. His invitation wasn’t like me inviting him to my tiny apartment that I’ve been planning to move away from since the day I moved in.

I pulled my brows together. Not that I even remember really inviting him here. How did that happen?

I shook my head and went back to my panic attack. Sawyer’s home was a real home. Something out of a sitcom. I’d never been to where Sawyer lived. In fact, it was a spot that was circled in red on my internal map of Wild Ridge so I’d remember to avoid the place like the plague.

But everyone knew everyone in this town, so where Sawyer lived was pretty common knowledge. The locals referred to it as the Lodge. From the sounds of it, though, it was more like a family compound. Several generations of Sawyer’s family lived on the property out in the woods, including his parents, his brothers, and his sister.

Oh my God. Sawyer wanted me to meet his family.

“Breathe, Trinity.” Sawyer walked over and folded me into his arms. Despite my confusion about what was going on between us, I accepted his comfort. I planted my face in his chest and slid my arms around his waist. Then I did my best to take his advice. I pulled a deep breath in through my nose.

He shook me gently. “What’s going on in that head?”

“You want to take me home.”

“Yes.” His voice rumbled beneath my ear where it rested on his chest.

“And meet your family.”

“Yes.”

“That seems like...” I wracked my brain for the best way to describe it,

“...like a pretty big step.”

I could feel the vibration of his quiet laugh under my cheek. I wanted to be outraged at his laughter, but at this point, I was beyond outrage. If he felt like laughing, let him laugh. The longer that went on, the longer it would take for him to take me home with him. The longer he chuckled, the longer I had a reprieve.

And I wanted a reprieve. I wanted a timeout. I wanted to suspend time indefinitely.

I liked the part where I got to stand here in the circle of his arms. And I didn't want to examine too closely just how much I liked it. Or whether or not liking it so much meant I was like my mother.

More than that, I wanted to avoid going home with Sawyer. Because something inside me was screaming that whatever was happening between us was big. That going home with Sawyer would upend my life in ways I couldn’t imagine.

I’d already broken one of my cardinal rules—no dating a local.

Wait. Could you call what we did a date? I thought back and held in a groan. I hadn’t even made him buy me dinner first. I was just like my mother.

My head was screaming at me to run. To pack my stuff, take my savings and head to Syn City.

That was my plan since the moment I’d realized college was my ticket off this mountain, away from the reputation my mother stained our last name with. Away from my mother who cared more about picking up her next boyfriend than she cared about picking me up from school. My whole life had revolved around escaping from this place for as long as I could remember. But I didn't want it to be. Deep down, I loved my mountain town. A truth I didn’t acknowledge to myself nearly enough.

And something told me that if I went home with Sawyer, all my best-laid plans would come crashing down around me.

Sawyer shook me gently and I realized his quiet laughter had stopped.

“Let’s get you fed,” he said. “And then we’ll head out to the Lodge.”

Well, crap. Reprieve over.