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He was facing away from her, looking out the window and over the water. She debated how to begin, whether to admit she recognized him through his thin disguise or behave as the server she was and ask if he’d like to start with something to drink.
In the end, he saved her from having to decide. He shifted in his seat, pulling his eyes away from the gray-blue of the Chesapeake’s water, lifting his gaze to meet hers.
“I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” she asked.
“How beautiful it is here.”
The way he said it made her realize he wasn’t referring to the view, and she fought back the heat flooding her cheeks. He looked the same, maybe better than when she’d last seen him in person. Or perhaps it was her complicated emotions making him seem that way. Sawyer had always been confident, but he seemed to hold himself with even more surety now. But then, setting country music records was likely to do that to a person.
Stabs of both jealousy and grief sliced through her. He’d become famous. He’d fulfilled his dream. And beneath the layers of frustration, a part of her was exceedingly proud of him. But he’d also left her, after years of shared joys and tears, when it was most convenient for him. And she’d spent the last twenty-three months trying to come to terms with the loss of him—her high-school sweetheart, the guy she’d waited for throughout army basic training and deployment, the man she’d traveled all over the United States with as they’d performed their music and chased their dreams.
Sawyer had been her soul mate. At one time she’d been closer to him than any other person on earth, her brother included. She hadn’t had many close relationships in her life, and Sawyer knew that. But she’d had him.
Until fame came calling.
“Rory? Aren’t you going to say anything? Welcome me home?”
He’d called her beautiful, as if that could make up for the heartache he’d caused her.
Without giving it a second thought, Rory turned and grabbed a half-full glass of ice water on a table waiting to be bused.
“Welcome home,” she offered and then tipped the water over the top of his head, dousing him.
And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, deciding Sawyer Landry could starve before she’d serve him.
* * *
SAWYER BLINKED THE water out of his eyes and groped for a napkin to wipe his face. He dabbed at his wet chin and pulled his baseball cap lower over his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized with the attention Rory had just drawn to him.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted aloud and used the sleeve of his T-shirt to mop some water from his jaw.
Seconds later, the hostess appeared with a handful of napkins, uttering profuse apologies for Rory’s behavior.
He shrugged. “I should have seen that coming. Rory never was one to take things lying down.”
The girl blinked, obviously puzzled. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her brow furrowing in concentration. Sawyer looked away, hoping she wouldn’t recognize him.
“You know Rory?”
He pushed back his chair. “Yeah, I’m her—” He stopped. “An old friend,” he said after a beat and stood.
“Sir, please. I don’t know what came over her, but I’m sure the manager will treat you to a meal on the house—”
“Not bloody likely.”
Sawyer turned as Connor, Rory’s older brother, approached the table. The other man’s expression was tight with anger. Sawyer held up his hands in surrender.
“Hey there, Connor. Good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“The place looks great. Your dad would have loved it.”
Connor made an angry noise in the back of his throat and took another step toward the table. Sawyer shifted his eyes to the hostess, in hope of reminding Connor they had an audience. But she wasn’t the only one watching them. From his peripheral vision, Sawyer noticed that most of the customers in the immediate vicinity had paused to witness the confrontation.
“I just wanted to see Rory,” Sawyer admitted. “I thought I’d surprise her. In retrospect, maybe showing up here wasn’t exactly the smartest way to go about it.”
Connor’s jaw clenched in reply.
“Listen, I know it’s more than I deserve, but I’d really like the chance to talk to her.”
“I’m not sure she wants to talk to you,” Connor growled.
“Fair enough. But would you mind asking her for me?”
“She’s working right now.”
Sawyer nodded. “Okay.” He sat back down in his chair. “In that case, I’ll just wait right here.”
Connor crossed his arms. “You’re not welcome here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Sawyer released a breath, trying to keep his cool. He and Connor had always gotten along in years past. Sawyer had a tremendous amount of respect for the other man, especially his devotion to his family and his dream of becoming a successful restaurateur. He’d always known Connor possessed the same Irish bullheadedness as Rory; he’d just rarely come up against its full force like this.
Still, the man was protecting his sister. And for that, Sawyer couldn’t blame him.
“What if I order something? I’d love to see what you—”
“No.” Connor’s voice was flat, brooking no argument.
Sawyer opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance.
“Oh, my gosh! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Recognition suddenly bloomed on the hostess’s face. Sawyer grimaced. Connor blinked.
“You’re him! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Her excitement spread through the restaurant dining room, first hushed and then louder, like the click of falling dominoes gaining speed.
Sawyer knew it wouldn’t be long before he was assailed by autograph-seekers and picture-takers. Normally, he didn’t mind—it went with the territory, after all. But he’d come here to see Rory, and he didn’t imagine a rush of groupies in the restaurant dining area would endear him to Connor.
“Please, Connor, just tell her I want to talk.”
Connor’s arms remained crossed, his nostrils flared.
One of the servers timidly approached and thrust her order pad in Sawyer’s direction. “Would you mind giving me your autograph?”
“Dani, go see to your tables.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Sawyer heard the snap of photos and looked past Connor to see several restaurant patrons brandishing their phones and clicking away in his direction. He smiled at them and gave a little wave.
Dani began to slink away with an air of disappointment surrounding her.
“How about I drop by later and bring you a signed copy of one of my CDs?” Sawyer offered to her retreating back.
Dani turned, her face lighting happily. She nodded and then caught Connor’s eye before scurrying away again. Vanessa took her cue from her coworker and followed.
Before the two men could continue their argument, a customer approached and held out her napkin, along with a pen.
“Excuse me? Mr. Landry? My daughter is a big fan, and she’d just love it if I could get her your autograph.” She held out her napkin and a pen, and he took the items in hand.
“Sure, what’s her name?”
The woman beamed. “Allison. Allie, that is. Or whichever you prefer.”
He scribbled a quick note, wishing Allie all the best, and then signed his name with a flourish.
He sensed Connor’s mounting irritation.
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much.” The woman paused. “And...would you mind taking a picture with me? Just so I can prove to her it was really you?”
“No problem.” Sawyer stepped to the side so the woman could move in beside him.
She turned to Connor and handed him her cell phone.
“Would you mind terribly?”
Connor did mind, Sawyer could see it, but he wasn’t about to deny a customer. He wordlessly took the phone, framed the shot and clicked as Sawyer grinned broadly for the camera.
“Oh, that’s just wonderful. Thank you!” The woman was speaking to him, barely sparing Connor a glance as she reclaimed her cell phone. “Thank you so much! Allie will be so excited.”
Sawyer looked at Connor, eyebrows raised as though daring him to allow this to continue. A few chairs scraped, and Sawyer had the sense a receiving line was about to form. Connor must have realized it, too, because he grabbed Sawyer by the arm and hauled him away from the table.
“In the back. Now.”
Sawyer shot one last look over his shoulder and saw several crestfallen faces as he was dragged away. Once the dining room disappeared from view, Connor warned him, “I’ll take you to her, but if she doesn’t want to talk to you, you leave through the back. You got it?”
“Got it.”
Connor hesitated, his green eyes cold. “You don’t deserve her forgiveness, you know.”
Sawyer grew serious. “I know. But I’m hoping she’ll grant it anyway.”
Connor gestured for him to follow and didn’t comment further one way or another.
* * *
RORY PACED IN Connor’s office, her black Converse sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor each time she pivoted on her heel. Normally, she found this room soothing. After the fire that had damaged a large part of the building, Harper had seen to it that the back office was remodeled into a charming work space for Connor. Though it wasn’t overly large, the slate-blue walls and sea-glass collage artwork were calming. Harper shared the space with Connor, too, and while his half of the room was usually a jumble of papers and notes, Harper’s tiny glass-topped desk remained neat and tidy, often with fresh flowers in the pottery vase displayed on the corner surface. Rory had caught Connor adding flowers to that vase on more than one occasion. It warmed her to think her brother could be such a romantic where Harper was concerned.
Today, however, she spared little thought for her brother’s love life. She was too overwhelmed with her own.
Sawyer was here. Back in Findlay Roads. In the restaurant. Sawyer was here...for her? After the last couple of years trying to separate herself from the idea of ever seeing him again, he was suddenly back. And he’d sought her out.
She was still trying to wrap her head around this revelation when a soft knock sounded on Connor’s office door.
A second later, it eased open, and Connor stuck in his head.
Behind him, she caught a glance of Sawyer. She stepped back and shook her head.
“No. Connor, no. I said I don’t want to talk to him.”
Connor grimaced. “I know, but I can’t have him in the restaurant.”
“Then kick him out!”
“He won’t go without talking to you first.”
She scowled.
“Rory, please.” Sawyer’s voice sounded from the crack in the doorway. He edged it open and stood next to Connor. “Just five minutes. Five minutes, and then I won’t bother you anymore. Please.”
She raised her chin. “I can’t. I’m on the clock.”
“Not anymore,” Connor said. “You’re taking a break.”
“I just got here,” she protested, but Connor’s gaze pleaded with her.
“Vanessa can fill in for you for a bit.”
Rory opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. If Connor was asking her to do this then she should. He wouldn’t make such a request of her lightly.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Five minutes.”
Connor appeared relieved and then sheepish. “Um, would you both mind discussing things...elsewhere?”
Rory raised an eyebrow.
“I think it would be better if Sawyer left the premises,” he explained.
“Oh.” Rory wasn’t sure what that was about, but decided that if she was going to talk to Sawyer, it didn’t matter whether it was here or somewhere else.
“Why don’t we take a stroll on the promenade?” Sawyer suggested.
