Page 46 of For the Record
“Did you love him?”
The question was innocent enough, but the answer was … not so much. How could Sawyer explain how her feelings for Olivier went well beyond hatred? That there were nights she lay awake, listening to the loud snores coming from her husband after a rough grunt between the sheets where only he got off, when she considered suffocating him with her pillow? After years of abuse, there was a darkness inside of her. A twisted vulnerability she’d disguised with a chilly demeanor out of the need to further protect herself.
I’m the result of staying and surviving a failed, misogynistic marriage.
“No,” she admitted, deciding McCoy had earned at least a partial truth. She looked out the window, noting the Jeep turning toward the water. “Not for a second.”
“Once you’re healed, I’d love to take you off-roading sometime. If you’d like that,” McCoy told her later before taking a drink of her smoothie. After driving through Kitsilano and pointing out where her friend Abi lived, she’d guided them across the bridge and into downtown Vancouver. It had been so long since Sawyer had taken time out of her busy day to visit there that she foundshe could no longer cope with the hustle of the city as well as she used to. Wedged between cars during late afternoon rush hour was a lot different than the supper rush in the kitchen, and it wasn’t until they were heading toward Richmond that she breathed fully again.
Now they were parallel parked in front of McCoy’s apartment building, a simple six-unit structure that had likely been a boarding house several years ago, sipping fruit smoothies. The trip across the city had been nice with McCoy, and even when silence permeated the Jeep, it was comfortable and easy. Either McCoy had the longest game imaginable, or she was content to let their relationship develop organically. Sawyer hoped it was the latter because regardless of how attractive she found McCoy, she was in no way ready for sex with a woman.
“I guess I should get you home now, huh? You’re probably wiped from all the driving.” McCoy examined her, an unfettered yearning beneath her gentle expression.
Sawyer gnawed the inside of her cheek, ignoring the flutter of desire from the way this woman looked at her. She drew in a breath, McCoy’s addictive cologne and the smell of engine oil filling her. The scent was both comforting and arousing. The thought of going home to her large house, alone, or how the loneliness seemed to saturate every room unnerved her in ways it hadn’t before.
“No,” she reasoned after a moment. “We didn’t drive all the way here to merely park at the curb.” She sipped her own smoothie, peering out the window to the darkened apartment on the top floor before glancing back at McCoy. “At least show me your apartment.”
“My … apartment?” McCoy gaped.
“Mm-hmm,” Sawyer replied, amusement widening the slyness of her grin. The need to touch McCoy hit her, not for the first time today, and she crooked one finger under the youngerwoman’s chin, gently closing it. “Perhaps I’ll even cook you a meal.”
Chapter 23
McCoy
Coy couldn’t believe Sawyerwas standing on her doorstep, patiently waiting as she fumbled to unlock the entrance to her apartment. Hell, she hadn’t even known patience was a virtue Sawyer held. Frankly, Sawyer had been anything but in the months since they’d met. Yet here she was, close enough behind Coy she could feel Sawyer’s breasts graze her shoulder blades once or twice, quietly waiting.
Coy sucked her teeth. “S-sorry,” she said unnecessarily, hastily twisting the knob and pushing the door inward. She gestured for Sawyer to go on ahead of her.
Sawyer’s smile was as beautiful as it was rare, and when she directed it at Coy, it felt like the ground could come up and greet her any moment. Her heart rate jacked up, and she swallowed down her nerves, trying and failing to return that wide, earnest smile.
Whowasthis woman, and what happened to the old Sawyer?
“Nice place you have,” Sawyer commented, glancing around at the minimal furnishings throughout the apartment. Her gaze landed on the two mountain bikes secured to the far wall behind the sofa. One eyebrow arched up. “Does Sloane live here, too?”
“She does, though she’s at work tonight. Late shift at the pub,” Coy explained, setting her keys on the table in the entranceway. She wiped her clammy hands on her dirty jeans, only then realizing the state she was in. Jesus, had she really dropped everything she’d been working on to steal away for the afternoon with Sawyer? She’d been a mess since calling it off with Frankie. She couldn’t understand, not really. It wasn’t like shelovedFrankie, not like she could love Sawyer if given the chance. Still, Frankie had a hold on Coy.
“Why don’t you grab a shower, and I’ll whip something up for supper?” Sawyer suggested, reaching out to skim her fingers lightly down Coy’s arm.
Coy’s mind went blank at the feel of those soft fingers against her hot skin. Goosebumps broke out, and she shivered, raising her eyes to Sawyer’s. With flats on, Sawyer was only about an inch or so taller than Coy. If she crooked her mouth up, just a little, their mouths would meet.
“You could come in with me.” Coy wagged her eyebrows, because of course she did. For some fucked up reason, she’d turned into a chronic moment killer when it came to Sawyer.
Grimacing, she took a small step back, opening her mouth to apologize when Sawyer surprised her with a finger against her lips.
“I might be willing to entertain this little idea you have of the two of us,” she quietly stated, her gaze lingering on her finger skimming across Coy’s mouth, before focusing on her eyes, “but make no mistake, McCoy. Things will progress at my pace or not at all.”
Unable to stop, Coy puckered her lips and kissed Sawyer’s finger, a grin breaking forth at the subtle intake of the older woman’s breath. “I’ll go whatever speed you want.”
She hurried with her shower as much as she could with grease rubbed into her chestnut locks. She had to wash with the shampoo three times, but eventually, it was all gone, and she was scrubbing her body down. When Coy, finally dressed in clean clothing, took a seat at the small kitchen table, Sawyer was plating two omelets with a side of toast.
“Wow. I didn’t know we had ingredients to make all that. Thank you, Sawyer,” Coy watched as Sawyer returned to the counter and poured them each a mug of coffee. She wore loose fitting slacks today, but Coy enjoyed the snug way they fit over her gorgeous backside. She couldn’t recall ever seeing a woman with a finer ass, and that was saying something.
“You’re welcome. And yes, some items in your fridge were questionable. A dated container of black beans and spoiled mushrooms, cauliflower … I tossed them all.”
Sawyer placed a mug in front of Coy before taking a seat across from her. Dark circles formed below Sawyer’s magnetic eyes, dulling the shade some in the last half an hour, Coy noticed. A thin sheen of perspiration had collected along her temple as well. Profound guilt made Coy’s chest tighten at the sight.What was I thinking, running Sawyer all over the city when she was still healing?
“I should be serving you, not the other way around.” The statement came out husky, but Coy didn’t have the wherewithal to apologize, especially not when it was the truth. A woman like Sawyer needed to be worshiped, cherished. Coy watched as Sawyer took her first bite. “You look tired.”