Act Like You Love Me (An Accidentally in Love Novel) (Entangled: Bliss) (10 page)

“Sure.” She shot him a grin that had his mind back in the gutter. “But you’ll owe me.”

Wanting to get this part of the evening over with, Sawyer hurried outside, where Aunt Wendy was still digging items out of her car.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the play,” she said. “I knew you’d get into it if you gave it a chance.” She turned to him, a giant hat with lots of pink flowers in her hand and a garment bag hanging over her other arm. “See, there’s culture here, same as New York. You can find plenty of inspiration, plus life goes at a slower pace.”

Sawyer suspected Mom had enlisted his aunt’s help talking him into staying. “It is nice here, and it’s definitely more relaxed…” He was going to start with the
but
s,
but
he figured it wouldn’t matter. Wendy would keep listing reasons to stay, and he didn’t want to argue with her, the way he had with Mom yesterday morning.

Come to think of it, though, maybe he should stick around just a little longer. Another couple of weeks wouldn’t kill him. It’d make Mom happy.

He told himself that the thought had nothing to do with a certain girl next door.

Chapter Ten

“See,” Brynn said, shooting Sawyer a big smile that lit up her eyes. He was too busy looking at her to see. She had her dark hair piled in a bun and several strands had come loose around her face. He’d never thought of a woman’s neck as sexy before, but Brynn had a sexy neck. A sexy everything, really.

She stuck her fist on her hip. “Are you even paying attention?”

He finished tearing the plastic off the new paint roller and set it on the recently finished granite-topped counter. “I’m paying attention, just not to the paint.”

A flush spread up the neck he’d been admiring, into her cheeks, and happiness radiated through his chest. He’d spent the last week watching Brynn on the stage, counting down to the moment when he could call rehearsal and be alone with her. She made the most random yet charming comments and was completely unlike any girl he’d ever dated. There were still times he’d say something that would make her intoxicating smile fade from her face. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. And every time he asked, she just said, “Nothing,” and proceeded to pull away.

But now she was here in his house, ready to help him paint, and everything felt right with the world. He walked over to her, slipped his arms around her waist, and kissed her. Her soft lips opened under his, and he considered telling her to forget about painting.

She pulled back a couple of inches and tilted her head toward the wall. “Tell me I was right.”

He took in the chocolate-milk-colored section of paint, and how it looked next to the espresso wood cabinets and the pale hardwood floors. When he’d asked for her help picking paint colors and that was what she’d chosen, he didn’t know if it was going to go together. But he’d gotten the paint anyway, because, well, she seemed so excited about it.

He twisted her so that her back was against his chest and tucked his head on her shoulder. “You were right.” He wasn’t just saying it, either. “It ties in the cabinets and floor and gives the whole room a warm feel.”

“It makes me think that when you get settled in, you should bake me something chocolate in your kitchen.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Hint, hint.”

He smiled, but then it hit him. He’d mentioned the possibility of going to California, but he’d never clarified his stay here was only temporary, had he? That this wasn’t his house, and his life was somewhere else.

He should tell her.

“So…” She spun around and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Does that mean I’ve got the green light to keep going?”

He tapped her nose. “Go crazy.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek that was more attack than kiss, a quick smash of her lips that made him laugh, and then poured more of the pale brown paint into the tray and picked up the roller brush. He took the other and they stood side by side, the breeze off the lake blowing in through the open doors of the patio.

Brynn started humming, and he wondered if she even knew she was doing it.

Sawyer stretched to reach the spot near the top. “Usually I don’t get to see you in the day. You’re even perkier than at night, and I didn’t know that was possible.” Yes, she was beyond perky this morning, but he was also fishing for information. He’d tried to get her to do things with him during the day before, but she always said she couldn’t and then quickly changed the subject.

She grinned at him. “I like painting. Seeing the transformation. Plus, I know this makes me sound like I huff paint, but it smells good to me. The excitement usually wears off about halfway through a project, though, so now you’re warned.”

He gave an exaggerated gasp. “You’d quit on me?”

“Depends on what I get if I finish.” She winked at him and his throat went dry. Then, as usual, she looked away. That was what amused him most about when she delivered a line like that—she seemed as surprised by it as he did. And he liked to take advantage of that by saying something bold in return and watching her eyes widen or her cheeks redden.

He moved right up behind her and leaned his lips next to her ear. “I have a few ideas.”

She shivered against him and if he didn’t rein it in, she was going to be feeling exactly what he was thinking about.

Her arm slowed as she brought the roller down the wall. He was still holding one in his right hand, trying to keep it away from her so he didn’t completely ruin her clothes.

“Sawyer…” Her voice came out breathless, and it completely unraveled him. Did she have any idea what she did to him? She was like a drug—once he had a taste he wanted more. This girl had knocked down all his usual barriers in a matter of weeks, and he didn’t care. He
wanted
to let her all the way in.

Shit. No, not all the way. I can’t…
He thought of his mom drained after a day of taking care of his dad. Panic was rising up, digging its claws into his lungs.

“You need some air? I need some air.” He dropped his roller into the paint tray and headed out the back door, his heart beating against his rib cage like it was trying to make an escape.

…

Brynn wasn’t sure what had just happened. Sawyer was flirting—and then some. Over the past few days she’d tried to keep up her guard, pulling away when things got serious, trying to find that balance. As happy as she was whenever she was with him, there was always that twinge of guilt. The reminder that he liked her for the wrong reasons. Brynn was starting to put on a show so much that fiction was slowly bleeding into reality.

She’d thought about confessing the truth almost every time they were together. But when she’d told Paul she was thinking of coming clean and telling Sawyer how glad she was he’d moved back, her brother said she was so close to hooking him, and not to screw it up now.

A pit formed in her stomach.
Maybe I already screwed it up.

She tried to remember if she’d said anything that might scare him off. She hadn’t quoted any plays or books.

Then it hit her.
The kitchen. I said I wanted him to bake for me. That sounds like I’m trying to domesticate him or something. But that was a few conversations ago…

Maybe it was the paint huffing comment. You’re not supposed to tell people that you like smelling paint.
She was sure that wasn’t it either, though.

Determined to fix…whatever it was, she stepped onto the back porch. Her house had a tiny window that overlooked the lake, but she rarely went into the backyard. The lady who’d lived there before her had landscaped with rocks and ceramic geese and gnomes and left no place to really sit. Basically, it was where lawn ornaments went to die. Brynn had moved the boy and girl gnomes closer so it looked like they were kissing, but she was only renting the place and couldn’t do much more.

But the large, raised deck of this house had a prime view of the glittering lake, tiny boats leaving white trails across the water, and birds flying through the cottony clouds and unbelievably blue sky. Even though she’d grown up fishing on that lake, its picture-perfect beauty still struck her when she took the time to stand and take it in.

And maybe she was avoiding talking to Sawyer the tiniest bit. Somewhere along the way this relationship stopped being a practice run and started being real, and her heart ached at the thought of whatever was happening between them ending. If she were being honest with herself, she’d wanted it to be more from the beginning, regardless of their past that only she remembered.

She took another step and he glanced back at her, devastatingly handsome as always. She took in a deep breath and said, “Hey,” hoping it was enough, because she didn’t know what else to say.

He stared at her for a moment—or maybe it was for three years. It certainly felt like that long. Then he held out his hand to her. She clasped it, the calluses he’d most likely gotten working on the house rough against her skin. With his other hand, he brushed away the hair the breeze was sending across her face and rested his palm on her cheek.

She wasn’t sure what he was feeling or thinking, but the mixture of panic at this potentially ending and the pleasure of his touch had her thinking she was already past the point of no return.

“I think you’re amazing,” he said.

Her hands started shaking and she clenched them into fists. This was the classic break-up speech. It’d been used on her before, and she’d used it once herself.

“But I should also tell you…” Sawyer glanced down at the deck. “I’m not big on commitment. Actually, I run from it.”

Everything inside her turned cold and hard. Ice formed over her heart; her lungs stopped expanding.
You always knew this would happen, you idiot. What, you thought he’d actually fall for you?

It was like that moment in high school when he’d crushed her all over again. Only this was worse because she actually knew him now, knew he was one of the rare, hard-to-find good guys. Or so she’d thought.

She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her, keeping her next to him. “I didn’t say anything about commitment,” she said. She’d been so careful not to. “If this is about me telling you to bake for me, that was a joke.”

“It’s not. I’m not saying…” He blew out a breath. “If I were going to stay here, then maybe… But I’m only here for another week, two at most. The house is almost finished, and once it and the play are done, I’ve got to go back to my real life. I know I should’ve said something earlier, but I didn’t think it’d turn into…this.” And what was
this
? Was he saying he wanted more? Or that he could tell she did?

“I’m just trying to be honest,” he said.

Lately she’d decided honesty was overrated. She could’ve gone without knowing this for a few more days. Weeks. Forever.

He’s leaving.
That thought spun around and around in her head, opening up a hollow emptiness in her chest. Sawyer no longer in town. Not in the beautiful house next door he was pouring his heart and soul into. It was so…wrong.

But apparently this wasn’t his
real life
—he’d said it like staying in North Carolina would be ridiculous. As hypocritical as it was, considering she currently wasn’t exactly living her real life either, that made her want to shake him. This place was her home. And he belonged here, too; couldn’t he see that?

Or maybe she was the one who couldn’t see right.
I don’t know him. Not really.
It took more than a few stolen backstage kisses and some stories about his father to know him. Obviously.

And to think she’d even considered coming clean. There was really no point now, was there?

Sawyer brushed his thumb across the top of her cheek. “Say something.”

The sinking sensation in her gut grew. “That’s totally fine. I mean, it’s not like I thought this was anything serious. And I don’t even know how long I’ll stick around here, either.” She didn’t know where that came from. The world was spinning and her thoughts were hard to catch hold of.

“Are you thinking about going back to LA?”

What she wouldn’t do to go back in time and undo that lie. It was far too late to fix it now, but guilt still filled the empty void in her stomach. “I don’t know.”

Too many emotions were nearing the surface, tears were rising, and she’d simply die if she cried in front of him. That’d probably scare him off for good. Then again, maybe that would be a good thing. She forced the corners of her mouth to lift into a smile. “You know, I just remembered I have something I need to do before rehearsal. So I’ll see you then.”

Sawyer caught her wrist. “Brynn.”

She tugged away from him and rushed through the living room and out the front door. It was the first time all week they hadn’t kissed good-bye. Her lips and her body—and her heart—already missed it.

…

Sawyer watched Brynn walk away, heard the door close behind her, and hung his head. He’d really screwed it up this time. But it was better for her to know now, right? Better for him, too. A few days ago he’d been thinking about sticking around longer for her, but that’d only make it worse in the end. Now they both knew there was an expiration date. Maybe this would save them from the kind of messy breakup that included dish-throwing or left emotional scars.

With that mantra in his mind, he headed back into the kitchen, picked up his roller, and got back to work. He missed Brynn’s humming. Watching her as she painted. Her calming presence. Her absence took up all the space in the room, glaring at him in every place he tried to look. In the matter of thirty minutes, he’d gone from having the best day ever to one of the worst.

He told himself he’d done the right thing.

If only it didn’t feel so wrong.

Chapter Eleven

Since this morning hadn’t been bad enough, Brynn had to drive all the way to the Bait and Tackle without having tea first. She’d meant to pick some up yesterday, but she’d been too busy riding an emotional roller coaster.

“Morning,” Paul said with a smile, and she wanted to punch him in the face—he was way too happy and bright-eyed this early. She zombie shuffled past him, squinting against the bright lights, and walked into the office.

“You hungover or somethin’?” Paul asked, way too loud.

Yeah, love hungover.
“Or somethin’,” she answered, reaching for the coffee Paul kept brewing until about noon. The mugs didn’t look very clean, but she was so desperate for caffeine she picked one up anyway. She gave it a halfhearted wipe with one of the brown paper towels she always felt did a better job removing a layer of skin than drying hands, and filled the mug with coffee.

She frowned at the lack of cream and sugar. How could Paul drink this stuff black? She shuddered at the first sip, but eventually her tongue was burned enough she didn’t have to taste it anymore.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you grumpy since high school,” he said with a note of amusement, that stupid smile still on his face.

“So glad my grumpiness causes you joy.” She moved out by the register and set her mug down on the counter. “Hey, have you gone fishing with Dad at all this week?”

“Haven’t had time. He came in for a few minutes yesterday afternoon, though.”

“How did he seem?”

Paul shrugged. “Like Dad. We talked fishing, sales numbers. The usual.”

Brynn heard the chime over the door and groaned. She didn’t want to deal with people today.

Paul tapped the counter in front of her. “I’ve got it. Take a few minutes and listen to show tunes or do whatever it is you do to make yourself so bubbly all the time.”

Brynn ducked into the office, sat in the swivel chair, and propped her head in her hands. Show tunes weren’t going to help her now. Not after what happened at the end of last night’s rehearsal.

She’d tried to be cool after Sawyer’s whole bomb about running from commitment and how he was leaving…but she’d failed miserably—more like completely lost it. And now she wondered if Sawyer would ever talk to her again.

I wasn’t that bad, was I?
A tight knot formed in her stomach.
Yes, yes I was.

The entire rehearsal had been torture, to say the least. Every time her gaze had drifted to Sawyer, her heart would tug. And the times his eyes met hers sent squeezing pain through her lungs. She’d missed cues and lines, and by the end of it, all the other actors were as exasperated as she was.

When everyone had filtered off the stage, she wasn’t sure whether to bolt or stay. Talking to Sawyer would be painful; not talking to him would be painful. She’d waited too long to decide, though, because he’d walked toward her, a determined set to his jaw. He stopped right in front of her and the air shifted, heavy and pressing against her skin like a wool blanket.

“I’ve felt like shit all afternoon,” he’d said.

And she’d thought,
Good, at least I’m not alone in the shitiness feeling
. She’d opened her mouth to try to say something, but then pressed her lips together, not trusting her words to come out steady. Then she’d told herself to rein it in. Stay in character. Jaded. Strong. Not interested in a relationship, anyway.

Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck. “I finished painting the kitchen and it looks good.” He’d taken a hesitant step closer. “Wanna come over and see it?”

“I can’t,” she said, which was true, because it’d be too hard for her to keep up the act for that long. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” Also true, but before his earlier confession, she would’ve gone over anyway.

“Brynn.” He’d put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Her throat ached from holding back her emotions.

She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye, so she’d focused on the fake tree behind him. “It’s not because of what you told me earlier, I swear. In fact, that works out perfectly for me. My friend’s been talking about setting me up with this guy forever, and now I can tell her to go ahead without feeling bad.”

“Okay. Well, maybe you can come over tomorrow night.”

“Actually, I’m going to be really busy during the next few days.”

“Doing what?”

She’d pulled away far enough that his hand dropped. “I have a job. What, you think I’m just a spoiled California girl whose daddy pays for everything?”

“Of course not. I never said anything like that.”

Irritation had bubbled up, and suddenly, she was pissed. At him for making her like him so much, and at herself for letting it happen when she knew better. The anger had eclipsed the pain nicely and helped her work up the indifference she was going for. “I’ll catch you later.” She’d started past him, but he stepped into her path.

“So, where do you work?”

Did he not get that she was trying to make a dramatic exit? She’d blown out her breath. “At a shop.”

“Which shop?”

She glanced up, meeting his eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart lurched. “Does it matter?”

If he said yes, she wasn’t sure how she’d respond. Since she’d acted like she’d never fished before when he took her, she’d feel pretty stupid admitting she worked at a bait shop. And if he came into Bigfish, there would be complications with Paul, and the less Sawyer inserted himself into her life, the better. That way, it would be easier when he left.

A sharp pain had pierced the center of her chest.

“I guess not,” Sawyer said. “Unless you want me to come in and visit sometime?” Hope had flickered in his eyes and the pain spread through her lungs.

“No thanks. I’ve got enough men who only want one thing visiting me already.” With that, she’d left, her exit even more dramatic than she’d wanted.

Now, Brynn dropped her head on the desk and let herself wallow in the awful, nauseous feeling she’d had ever since. She’d meant fishing equipment—well, that’d been what she was thinking, but she knew how it’d sound. After she’d gotten home, she’d watched out the window, waiting for the light to go on next door, hoping she might gather up the courage to apologize.

After a while she’d given up and gone to bed. But she hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Hey, sis, maybe you could get out here and help me?” Paul’s voice was extra sugary, so he must be dealing with a lot of customers, and they must be in near proximity. When she came out of the office, the nasty coffee she’d consumed churning in her gut, making her even sicker, she saw there were several customers. Including Howard, the guy who came in to grin and ogle her while he bought fishing equipment.

Thanks for that, karma.

“So, what’s up with you today?” Paul asked when they hit a lull. Then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh no, you messed it up with that guy, didn’t you? I told you to hold back. What did you do? Take him to your place and show him all your kissing statues?”

Brynn shoved him. “Thanks for being so damn sensitive. And no, I didn’t show him my statues. It’s not like I have a ton; there are only a few.”

“Enough for most guys to see them and run for the hills. Not to mention that painting in your living room.”

The urge to punch her brother in the face was back. “It’s a famous work of art. Pardon the hell out of me for being cultured.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that work of art called?” A smirk quirked his lips.

He knew it was
The Kiss
by Gustav Klimt, a beautiful painting with colors and flowers and a man kissing a woman on the cheek. Just like he knew she’d gotten it for Christmas when she was fifteen. He’d also mocked her endlessly for it then.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, trying to convince herself as she said it. “That guy was a fill-in. Practice. Dani’s going to set me up with someone who’s more my type, and now I know what not to do.”

What she would be doing was guarding her heart, because putting it out there to get stomped on totally sucked. The chime announced a new customer, only it wasn’t any regular old customer. Carly Johnson came into the store wearing the tiniest shorts known to man and gave Paul a huge grin, displaying every one of her blindingly white teeth.

“Hey, baby.” She threw her arms around Paul and kissed him.

Oh, sure, mock a painting for having a cheek kiss and then swap spit in your place of business.

Not bothering to untwine himself from his new girlfriend, Paul glanced back at Brynn. “Hey, you know how you had yesterday off?”

Warning bells rang out like mad. “You mean how I actually took a whole day off instead of coming in to work for half a day when I’m
supposed
to have a full day?”

“Carly and I are going to sneak out for lunch,” he said, ignoring her question. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half, two tops.”

Brynn might’ve been able to say no if he hadn’t flashed her a goofy grin. Stupid jerk brother and her desire for him to be happy. “You owe me. And I need you to get that box down first. I could reach it if I have to but—”

“No worries, I got it.” Paul patted Carly on the butt and then headed to the back.

Carly smiled and stared at Brynn for so long that she wondered if the girl was part robot and didn’t need to blink. Finally, Carly rebooted and sprang into motion. “I know I said it the other night, but I’m really glad we have the chance to get to know each other better. I just adore Paul.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I’ve dated so many losers in my life. Finally, I was like, no more! I put it out to the universe that I wanted a kind man who’d treat me right, and then I met Paul.” She sighed, a dreamlike expression on her face.

Wow. Who put fairy dust in your Cheerios this morning?

A thought hit Brynn. Warning bells went off again—actually this was more like three-alarm-fire level. She shouldn’t ask. Knew it would come back to bite her somehow, because apparently Carly was more in touch with the universe than she was.

“So, you, uh, dated Sawyer Raines in high school, right? He was pretty hot.” She felt like an idiot admitting it aloud, regardless of the fact that it was, indeed, a fact. “Seemed like a nice guy, too, but I didn’t know him very well.”

“Sawyer Raines. Yeah, he was definitely hot.” Carly lifted herself onto the counter, crossing one toned, tan leg over the other. “He was one of my better boyfriends, which is sad since he ignored me half the time. Then he went all weird and wouldn’t answer my calls or talk to me. It was like dating a post. I kind of just blew up that day in the cafeteria, you know?”

Brynn nodded, though she really didn’t know.

“I shouldn’t have dumped him like that.” Carly’s eyes widened. “Oh, if you’re thinking I’d ever do that to Paul, I wouldn’t.”

“That’s…not why I asked. You know what, never mind.”

“I actually heard he was in town again.”

“I had no idea,” Brynn said. What was one more lie, when you were already drowning in all your others?

…

Sawyer had been staring at the blinking cursor for about an hour. He’d written a few sentences between the three cups of coffee, but he ended up deleting them. He hadn’t risked going to the lake house this morning, justifying that the paint needed time to dry anyway. Even though what it probably needed was a second coat.

He put his fingers on his keyboard and started typing.

As she painted, he watched her side profile, the way her mouth would quirk up at the corner, and how her shirt inched up every time she rolled above her head, showing off a strip of pale skin he wanted to get his hands on… And then the coolest girl he’d ever dated walked out of his life for good.

Well, she hadn’t exactly walked out of his life for good. He’d seen her a few hours later. But that hadn’t gone so great either. Suddenly he was picturing his heroine as Brynn and himself as the hero, and he wanted to add in racy scenes he didn’t normally write.

He deleted the sentences he’d just written—which were more in novel form than screenwriting form anyway, not to mention that they sounded like a sappy romance. He closed his laptop and scrubbed a hand across his face.

Everything had gotten so messed up yesterday. It didn’t help that he had to sneak around backstage, hiding the fact that he needed to talk to Brynn alone. When he finally caught up to her, she’d thrown out that bit about how nice it was that she could go out with another guy. Like he wasn’t aware that she had plenty of options besides him. It was something Zoey would do—try to make him jealous.

This was what he got for attempting to date an actress. One he was directing, no less, which only made everything more entwined and complicated.

I never learn.

That was unfair to Brynn, though. She was different from Zoey in every way. Sweet and funny, always looking at the world through rose-colored lenses. Once in a while he’d even heard her whispering lines under her breath, smiling the same way she would onstage, almost like she couldn’t help but be lost in whatever world she’d escaped to.

She got excited over paint and fancy cabinet handles, for God’s sake. He remembered stumbling across her backstage all those weeks ago, singing at the top of her lungs.

Being around her felt like standing next to the sun. Except now he was in the dark again, and he hated it.

It didn’t help that none of the plot points in his screenplay were coming together like they needed to. Between the pressure to make it live up to the first, and his inability to stop thinking about Brynn, he was completely stuck.

Sawyer shoved his laptop in his bag and stood. He needed to walk around for a bit. Maybe visit a few shops—or all of them—until he found Brynn. There weren’t
that
many in this town, right?

The comment she’d made yesterday had him picturing her as a Hooters waitress. He didn’t like that thought at all, guys going in to check her out and hit on her. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a
little
interested in seeing Brynn in that uniform.

She does
not
work at Hooters. What’s wrong with you, Raines?

He’d see Brynn tonight onstage anyway. Even if she didn’t talk to him. So he decided to stick with his plan of walking and getting air, hoping it’d provide inspiration.