Page 47 of Make Me Yours
“Would you like to come over?” I asked before I lost my nerve. “I just… don’t feel like being alone tonight.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Funny,” he said, grinning. “I was trying to figure out how to ask you the same thing.”
That smile melted the last bit of resistance I had left. “I’ve got whiskey for you,” I said, “and hot chocolate for me. Since… you know… no more wine for a while.”
His eyes softened. “Then it’s a date.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed Ropers, ordering dinner before I could protest. “Two steaks, two salads, and an order of garlic bread,” he told the guy. “Delivery to the cabin at 200 Ridge Road.”
When he hung up, he gave me a look full of mischief. “Guess our little secret’s not going to stay secret much longer. The kid at Ropers knows I usually have food sent to the ranch. Won’t take him long to notice the change of address.”
I groaned. “So by tomorrow morning?—”
“The whole town,” he finished, laughing. “Ropers has faster delivery gossip than the postal service.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Well, at least we’ll go down as a good story.”
He reached over, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. “We’ll go down together. That’s what matters.”
The words hit deep inside my gut. I swallowed, nodding. “Let’s go home.”
With Sawyer behind me, I drove to my cabin. The silence inside my car didn’t need filling. The headlights cut through the trees, and Sunny curled up on the backseat with a contented sigh. When I turned down the lane, I could already see the faint outline of my porch lights through the trees.
It was chilly when we climbed out—spring still wrestling with winter’s leftovers. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on a lamp.
Soon, the food arrived, and Sawyer pulled out a wad of bills and tipped the delivery guy generously. We put everything on the coffee table in front of the couch—two plates, two drinks, side by side. I fed Sunny and kicked off my shoes. The heat from the vent wasn’t enough to make the cabin feel alive again.
“Can you light the fire?” I asked. “Feels colder than it should.”
“On it.” He crouched by the hearth, striking a match, and the flames came alive in the grate. The light spread through the room, brushing over the walls, over him, until the whole place felt warmer—not just from the fire, but from him being here.
When he stood and turned toward me, the flicker caught in his eyes, and for the first time that day, I stopped thinking about what came next.
Tonight wasn’t about planning or pretending. Tonight was about finally letting him in.
The fire crackled softly. Sawyer leaned back on the couch, one arm stretched along the back cushion, his plate empty except for a few streaks of sauce. My salad sat half-finished beside my mug of cocoa, the steam long gone.
Sawyer took a sip of his whiskey, watching me over the rim of his glass. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“I’m thinking,” I said, tracing my finger around the edge of my mug.
“Dangerous habit,” he teased, a hint of that grin dawning over the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe,” I said, smiling faintly. “But I was thinking about that tattoo on your wrist.” I nodded toward the small, dark mark half-hidden under his watch—the one that had caught myattention more than once. “The star within a star. What does it mean?”
He glanced down, brushing over the ink with his thumb as if he hadn’t realized it was visible. “You really want to know?”
“I do,” I said softly. “But maybe start with the easier ones. I think I should understand them all first.”
A slow smile spread across his face—part pride, part hesitation. “Fair enough.”
He set his glass down and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a trident wrapped in rope on the inside of his forearm. “This one’s for my SEAL team. We all got it before deployment—something to remind us we were more than the uniform.”
I reached out before I could stop myself, tracing the sharp points of the trident with my fingertip. His skin was warm, solid. “You still talk to them?”
He shook his head once, a shadow passing through his eyes. “Not much anymore. Life scatters people. Some of them didn’t make it back.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
