Page 18 of Nights at Seaside
“I won’t.” She was nervous and rattled to her core by what she’d experienced right outside her door, with a man she’d known only a short time. But still, she was sure tomorrow morning wouldnotbring regret.
“Maybe not. But I’m not willing to take the chance.” He kissed her softly. “You have my number. If you change your mind about tomorrow night, call me.”
“I won’t.”
“I hope not.” With that, he turned and disappeared out her door.
Sky didn’t know how long she stood there, seeing his eyes in her mind when she’d opened the door and the simmering heat in them. Sometime later she opened the paper with his phone number on it and set it on the counter. It curled at the edge, revealing writing on the other side. She lifted it into the gleam of the sign from across the street and walked to the window, reading his note. Tall, strong letters gave life to each word.
Wanton looks, shimmering touches. Little nothings, wild and triumphant. Into the night. Into the night.She stared at the words, feeling each intimate one as a prickle of heat beneath her skin.
She looked out the front window and saw Sawyer heading down the alley toward the parking lot. His shoulders were strikingly broad, his waist narrow. Every step was determined, unlike those walking casually on the main road. He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes moving up the building to the window where she stood watching. Her pulse quickened again. His lips curved up, and his hand followed in the sweetest wave she’d ever seen. In that instant, Sky finally understood what her friends had felt when they’d fallen for their men in practically the blink of an eye.
And in the next second, reality sank in.
No matter how great of a kisser he was, or how she felt like they’d connected on so many levels, he was still a fighter.
A boxer.
He stepped into a ring and beat someone up. For money.
For his father? At least partially, but she knew that was a rationalization.
He was a fighter, a competitor.
She’d challenged him with her body, and he’d won her with his words—but could she win their biggest challenge? Her acceptance of his career?
Chapter Six
SAWYER RAN DOWN the beach with the sun at his back. It was just after dawn, and he was nearing the end of his six-mile run. His house came into view, sitting high atop a dune in the distance. The summer house that his parents had called a cottage had been in his family for generations. Sawyer was the only one living in the large bay-front home, and it was much larger than he needed. But the familial history was important to him—and to his parents.
In the years between when his parents had sold their summer house and when Sawyer had bought it back, his parents had lost too many good summers, during his father’s strongest years. But at least it was back in the family. Sawyer’s parents never asked for a thing from him, besides for him to be an upstanding citizen and follow his heart—but they gave him unconditional love, emotional support, and strength every day of his life. Buying back the cottage, and winning the upcoming fight, couldn’t compare to what they’d given him, how they’d taught him to succeed and to believe in himself.
He sprinted the last quarter mile over the dunes. He might have run toward Wellfleet to seek out Sky at the Seaside community, but he had a feeling that if he was lucky enough to find her, his training would fall by the wayside. And that was not an option, no matter how much he enjoyed her company.
He tossed his gear into his truck and drove down to Cape Boxing in Eastham. Sawyer had trained in many clubs, but Cape Boxing had become his second home. He trained there several hours each day.
Boxing clubs weren’t like the more-common fitness centers where families went to work out with plush child-care centers, lavish planters and other decorations, bars serving overpriced fruity drinks, and Top 40 music playing overhead. Fight clubs had one purpose—to provide a training ground for fighting. It was a tough, bloody sport, and there was no room forfroufrouanything. Concrete walls and painted floors served them well. The clubs Sawyer enjoyed most were located in warehouse-style buildings with open trussed ceilings and heel-scuffed floors, like Cape Boxing. When he was training, he didn’t want distractions of any kind. He needed to be highly focused—mind, body, and spirit.
Today the club environment wasn’t an issue. He wondered how he would rein in his focus with thoughts of Sky lingering in his mind.
Before heading inside, he snapped a picture of himself and scrolled through his contacts to find Sky’s number. He found it underSweet Summer Sky, and smiled at her programming his phone with the name he’d called her.
You are my sweet summer Sky.
Their evening together made this his sweetest summer yet. He typed a text message:See the empty space beside me? Wish you were here. Then he attached the photo of himself and sent it off to Sky, before heading inside for his training session.
The sound of gloves hitting a heavy bag was like music to Sawyer’s ears. His steps became more determined as he strode past the front desk.
“Hey, Songbird,” Brock “the Beast” Garner said from behind the desk. Brock was a local fighter. He was six four, two thirty, with thick blond hair and a smile that softened him like a gentle giant. He owned the gym, worked as a trainer, and was one of Sawyer’s closest friends.
“Beast,” Sawyer said in return. Most of the fighters called each other by their boxing names. Songbird had been Sawyer’s nickname since he first met Roach, because when he’d first started training as a kid, Roach had made him scrub down the gym, and he’d sung under his breath while he worked. Roach had coined the nickname, and it had stuck ever since.
“Can you spare some training time this week?” Brock asked. “I’ve got a group of adults and a group of teens dying for training. They’re going into Hyannis to Eagen Boxing because I don’t have the time to train.”
“I’d love to make time each week, but between my own training, renovating the house, and getting over to see my folks, I’m swamped.” And now he had Sky to think about spending time with, too.
“One day I’m going to kick your butt and make you commit,” Brock teased.
