Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer. Lori Foster

be her only chance to save Sawyer and his family from getting involved. She’d left in the first place to protect her sister. The last thing she wanted to do was get someone else in trouble.

       Especially such an incredible man as Sawyer.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      SAWYER TAPPED on the door and then walked in. Honey was in the bed, her head turned to the window. She seemed very pensive, but she glanced at him as he entered. He saw her face perk up at the sight of the tray he carried.

       Grinning, he asked, “So you’re hungry?”

       She slid higher in the bed. “Actually…yes. What have you got there?”

       He set the tray holding the coffee and other dishes on the dresser and carried another to her, opening the small legs on the tray so it fit over her lap. “Gabe had just pulled some cinnamon rolls from the oven, so they’re still hot. I thought you might like some.”

       “Gabe cooks?”

       Sawyer handed her the coffee, then watched to make sure it was to her liking. Judging by the look of rapture on her face as she sipped, it was just right. “We all cook. As my mom is fond of saying, she didn’t raise no dummies. If a man can’t cook, especially in a household devoid of women, he goes hungry.”

       She’d finished half the cup of coffee right off so he refilled her cup, adding more sugar and cream, then gave her a plate with a roll on it. The icing had oozed over the side of the roll, and she quickly scooped up a fingerful, then moaned in pleasure as she licked her finger clean.

       Sawyer stilled, watching her and suffering erotic images that leaped into his tired, overtaxed brain. His reactions to her were getting way out of hand. Of course, they’d been out of hand since he’d first seen her. And last night, when she kept kicking the covers away, he’d almost gone nuts. Pinning them down with his feet had been a form of desperate self-preservation.

       He hadn’t had such a volatile reaction to a woman in too many years to count. No, he’d never been entirely celibate, but he had always been detached. Now, with this woman who remained more a stranger than otherwise, he already felt far too involved.

       He cleared his throat, enthralled by the appreciative way she savored the roll. “Good?”

       “Mmm. Very. Give my regards to the chef.”

       She sounded so sincere, he almost laughed. “It’s just a package that you bake. But Gabe really can do some great cooking when he’s in the mood. Usually everyone around here grabs a snack first thing in the morning, then around eight they hit Ceily’s diner and get breakfast.”

       “If they can cook, why not eat here?”

       He liked it that she was more talkative today, and apparently more at ease. “Well, let’s see. Gabe goes to town because that’s what he always does. He sort of just hangs out.”

       Her brows raised. “All the time?”

       With a shrug, he admitted, “That’s Gabe. He’s a handyman extraordinaire—his title, not mine—so he’s never without cash. Someone’s always calling on him to fix something, and there’s really nothing he can’t fix.” Including her car, though Sawyer hadn’t asked him to fix it. Not yet. “He keeps busy when he wants. And when he doesn’t, he’s at the lake, lolling in the sun like a big fish.”

       Gabe stuck his head in the door to say, “I resent that. I bask, I do not loll. That makes me sound lazy.”

       Sawyer saw Honey gulp the bite in her mouth and almost choke as she glanced up at his brother. As a concession to their guest, Gabe had pulled on frayed jean shorts rather than walking around in his underwear. He hoped Jordan and Morgan remembered to do the same. They each had more than enough female companionship, but never overnight at the house, so they were unused to waking with a woman in residence.

       Gabe hadn’t shaved yet, and though he had on a shirt, it wasn’t buttoned so his chest was mostly bare. Sawyer shook his head at his disreputable appearance. “You are lazy, Gabe.”

       Gabe smiled at Honey. “He’s just jealous because he has so much responsibility.” Then to Sawyer, “Now, if I was truly lazy, would I plan on fixing the leak in your office sink this morning?”

       Sawyer hesitated, pleased, then took a sip of coffee before nodding. “Yeah, you would, considering you can’t go to the lake because it’s raining.”

       “Not true. The best fishing is done in the rain.”

       He couldn’t debate that. “Are you really going to fix the sink?”

       “Sure. You said it’s leaking under the cabinet?”

       Sawyer started to explain the exact location of the leak, but Honey interrupted, asking, “Where is his office?”

       Gabe hitched his head toward the end of the hallway. “At the back of the house. He and my dad built it on there after he got his degree and opened up his own practice. ’Course, I helped because Sawyer is downright pathetic with a hammer. He can put in tiny stitches, but he has a hell of a time hitting a nail or cutting a board straight.”

       Honey carefully set down her last bite of roll. “Your dad?”

       “Yep. He’s not a military man, like Sawyer’s dad was, but he is a pretty good handyman, just not as good as me.”

       Standing, Sawyer headed toward Gabe, forcing him to back out of the doorway. He could see the questions and the confusion on Honey’s face, but it was far too early for him to go into long explanations on his family history. “Go on and let her drink her coffee in peace.”

       Gabe put on an innocent face, but laughter shone in his eyes. “I wasn’t bothering her!”

       “You were flirting.”

       “Not that she noticed.” He grinned shamefully. “She was too busy watching you.”

       That sounded intriguing—not that he intended to dwell on it or to do anything about it. Likely she watched him because he was the one most responsible for her. “I’ll be at the office after I’ve showered and gotten dressed.”

       “All right. I’ll go get my tools together.”

       Sawyer stepped back into the room and shut the door, then leaned against it. Just as Gabe had mentioned, Honey watched him, her blue eyes wide and wary. He nodded at her unfinished roll. “You done?”

       “Oh.” She glanced down at the plate as if just remembering it was there. “Yes.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin he’d provided and patted her mouth. “Thank you. That was delicious. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry.”

       Eating less than one cinnamon roll qualified as hungry? He grunted. “More coffee?”

       “Yes, please.”

       Her continued formality and good manners tickled him. Here she was, bundled up in his bed, naked except for his son’s jersey, and with every other word she said please. She still sounded like a rusty nail on concrete, but she didn’t look as tense as she had last night. Probably the need for sleep had been more dire than anything else. As he refilled her cup, emptying the carafe, he said, “I have spare toothbrushes in my office. If you’d like, I can give you one. I’d go get yours, but I’m not sure which box it’s in.”

       “I’m not sure, either.”

       “Okay, then. I’ll fetch you one in a bit.” He finished his own coffee while leaning on the dresser, looking at her. “Before I start getting ready for my day, you want to tell me who you are?”

       She went so still, it alarmed him. He set down his empty cup and folded his arms over his chest. “Well?”

       “I think,” she muttered, not quite meeting his gaze, “that it’ll be simpler all around if I don’t involve you.”

       “You