Chapter 12 - Is This a Date?

MIA.

"So, you knew Ricky wasn't going to be there?" I teased Sawyer.

He was quiet.

Really quiet.

Interesting.

I turned slightly in my seat, studying his profile.

The man was staring straight ahead, his jaw set in that stubborn way I'd begun to recognize.

"Well?"

"Nothin' to say."

"Oh, I find that rather difficult to believe."

He glanced at me.

"Why's that?"

"Because you seem to have an opinion about absolutely everything."

"Only when I'm around you, princess."

I smiled.

"How unfortunate for me."

He chuckled under his breath.

I waited another moment, hoping he might elaborate on why he'd deliberately taken me to a mechanic's shop on a Sunday.

He didn't.

"All right, then. Where do we go next?"

One corner of his mouth lifted into that infuriatingly handsome smirk of his.

"I gotta make one quick stop, and then..." He paused, glancing in my direction. "I wanna show you somethin'."

"Something?"

"Yep."

"Would you care to be more specific?"

"Nope."

I sighed.

"You know, Sawyer, your conversational skills leave much to be desired."

"Been told that before."

"By whom?"

"My mother."

I laughed.

"Well, at least someone has attempted to correct you."

He grinned.

To my surprise, our next stop was the small local bank. Sawyer parked the truck, stepped out, and walked toward the ATM.

I watched him through the windshield, wondering what could possibly require a visit to the bank on a Sunday afternoon.

A few minutes later, he returned.

He climbed into the driver's seat, counted several bills, and held them out to me.

I looked at the money.

Then at him.

"What is this?"

"Last time I checked, it's called money."

I narrowed my eyes.

“Ha. Ha,” I replied dryly, arching an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to find you amusing, Sawyer Montgomery?”

"Little bit."

"Why are you giving me money?"

"Because you earned it."

I blinked.

"What?"

"Your pay."

I looked down at the bills.

Two hundred and sixty dollars.

I counted them again, more out of surprise than necessity.

"Sawyer..."

"What?"

"You're paying me?"

He frowned.

"Well, yeah. What'd you think I was gonna do? Make you work for free?"

I stared at him.

For a moment, I genuinely didn't know what to say.

Money had never been something I'd received in exchange for physical labor.

I'd worked, certainly.

I'd attended meetings, negotiated contracts, managed investments, and spent countless hours reviewing financial reports.

But I'd never spent a week feeding animals, hauling supplies, cleaning equipment, and learning the difference between a pitchfork and whatever other medieval torture instruments Sawyer kept in his barn.

And I'd certainly never been handed cash for doing it.

"Two hundred and sixty dollars," I murmured.

"Yep."

"For one week?"

"That's right."

I looked at him.

"Is that a normal wage around here?"

He leaned back against his seat.

"For the work you've been doin'? It's fair. And before you start complainin', I know you ain't exactly experienced."

I raised an eyebrow.

"How reassuring."

"But you've worked hard."

Something in his voice made me stop.

He wasn't teasing.

He wasn't smiling.

He was looking directly at me.

"You show up when I ask. You don't quit halfway through somethin'. And even when you don't know what the hell you're doin', you give it your best shot."

I swallowed.

"Well..."

"And I appreciate that."

There it was again.

That unexpected tenderness.

The one that appeared without warning and left me feeling strangely defenseless.

I looked down at the money.

Two hundred and sixty dollars.

A sum I once might have spent on a single bottle of wine without giving it a second thought.

Yet somehow, these bills felt different.

I'd earned them.

Not because of my name.

Not because of my family's connections.

Not because someone expected something from me in return.

Because I'd worked.

Because I'd gotten dirt beneath my fingernails and hay in my hair.

Because I'd shown up every morning and done something useful.

I ran my thumb across the edge of the bills.

"Thank you, Sawyer."

He shrugged.

"Don't thank me. You earned it."

I smiled.

"Still. Thank you."

He studied me for a second.

Then that familiar mischievous expression returned.

"Now, don't go spendin' it all on fancy shampoo or whatever the hell you city girls buy."

I gasped.

"Excuse me?"

"Just sayin'."

"For your information, Sawyer Montgomery, two hundred and sixty dollars wouldn't even cover my usual hair appointment."

He turned toward me.

Slowly.

"Your what?"

"My hair appointment."

"Two hundred and sixty dollars?"

"Well, depending on the services."

He stared.

I smiled innocently. "Sometimes considerably more."

"Jesus Christ."

I laughed.

"Please don't look so scandalized."

"Princess, for that kinda money, the woman better be givin' you a whole new head."

I burst out laughing.

"You're impossible!"

"And you're expensive."

"Apparently, you haven't even begun to understand how expensive."

He shook his head, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Lord help the poor bastard who marries you."

My smile faltered.

Only for a second.

But it was enough.

William.

The name appeared in my mind like an unwelcome visitor.

I turned toward the window before Sawyer could notice.

If only he knew.

If only he knew just how expensive my marriage had been.

And not in the way he meant.

"Hey."

I blinked.

Sawyer was looking at me.

"You okay?"

I forced a smile.

"Perfectly."

He watched me for another moment.

Then nodded toward the road.

"Good. 'Cause we're makin' another stop."

I welcomed the change of subject.

"Another mysterious destination?"

"Yep."

"Do you always conduct your affairs with this much secrecy?"

"Only when I've got a nosy woman ridin' shotgun."

I laughed.

"Charming."

"That's what they tell me."

"Who?"

"My mother."

"Your mother seems to be doing an extraordinary amount of lying on your behalf."

He threw his head back and laughed.

And just like that, the unpleasant memory began to fade.

***

Our next stop was a small diner situated along the main road.

A weathered sign hung above the entrance, and several pickup trucks occupied the parking lot.

Sawyer pulled into an empty space.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

I looked toward the building.

"Are we eating?"

"Yep."

"Inside?"

"Nope."

I frowned.

"Then why are we here?"

"To buy food, princess."

I sighed.

"Your talent for answering questions without providing useful information is remarkable."

He grinned.

"Been practicin'."

Before I could respond, he climbed out and disappeared into the diner.

I watched through the window as he greeted a woman behind the counter.

She smiled when she saw him.

Of course she did.

Apparently, everyone in Pleasant Valley knew Sawyer Montgomery.

And judging by the way the woman laughed at something he said, he was perfectly aware of his effect on people.

I rolled my eyes.

Honestly.

The man probably flirted with the cows.

Several minutes later, he returned carrying a brown paper bag and two canned Cokes.

He handed me one.

"Here."

I accepted it.

"Thank you."

He placed the bag between us.

"Got us sandwiches."

"What kind?"

"Ham and cheese."

"On what kind of bread?"

He stared at me.

"Bread."

I closed my eyes.

"Wonderful. That certainly narrows it down."

He laughed.

"White bread, princess. Lettuce, tomato, little mayo. Nothin' fancy."

"How disappointingly ordinary."

"You're welcome."

I smiled.

"Thank you, Sawyer."

He started the truck.

"Now, quit askin' questions."

"That's an unreasonable request."

"Figured you'd say that."

"Where are we going?"

He shook his head.

"Unbelievable."

***

For the next hour, Sawyer Montgomery became my unofficial tour guide.

And I discovered that Pleasant Valley was considerably more interesting than I'd initially believed.

He drove us through quiet neighborhoods lined with old houses, past a tiny church with white clapboard siding, and along narrow roads bordered by towering trees dressed in autumn colors.

He pointed out the elementary school he'd attended.

The creek where he and Ricky used to fish.

An old barn where he'd once gotten into trouble for climbing onto the roof.

And a small bridge where he'd apparently attempted to impress a girl when he was sixteen.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"What?"

"Impressing the girl."

He grinned.

"Sure did."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Right up until I fell in the creek."

I burst out laughing.

"You fell?"

"Slipped."

"Into the creek?"

"Yep."

"In front of her?"

"Yep."

I covered my mouth.

"Oh, Sawyer!"

"Water was cold as hell, too."

I laughed harder.

"And did she still find you attractive afterward?"

He shrugged.

"She married somebody else."

That nearly finished me.

I laughed until my stomach hurt.

"Well, clearly, your romantic techniques have improved tremendously."

He glanced at me.

"Wouldn't go that far."

Something about his expression made my laughter soften.

He returned his attention to the road.

For a moment, I wondered whether I'd said something wrong.

But then he pointed toward a small building near the intersection.

"That's where Ricky and I got caught stealin' candy when we were kids."

I gasped.

"You were a thief?"

"Eight years old, princess."

"Criminal behavior begins somewhere, Sawyer."

He chuckled.

"Ricky dared me."

"Naturally."

"And then the little bastard ran when the owner caught us."

"How very loyal of him."

"Been like that our whole lives."

I smiled.

The affection in his voice was unmistakable.

For all their insults and ridiculous arguments, Sawyer and Ricky shared the kind of friendship that couldn't be manufactured.

Years of history.

Unwavering loyalty.

A thousand stories that belonged only to them.

I recognized it immediately.

After all, Isabella Brown and I shared something remarkably similar.

The kind of friendship that survived disagreements, celebrated triumphs, endured heartbreaks, and required neither explanations nor apologies for being entirely ourselves.

Watching Sawyer and Ricky exchange another round of insults, I couldn't help but smile.

Apparently, genuine friendship looked much the same everywhere.

It simply came with a different vocabulary.

We continued driving.

The houses grew farther apart.

The roads became narrower.

And eventually, the town disappeared behind us.

I glanced toward Sawyer.

"Are we leaving Pleasant Valley?"

"Not exactly."

"That sounds suspicious."

"Relax, princess."

"That's precisely what people say in horror movies before something terrible happens."

He laughed.

"Good Lord."

I looked at the increasingly steep road ahead.

"Sawyer?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere special."

I turned toward him.

That was new.

He didn't elaborate.

And for once, I didn't press.

***

The road climbed steadily through a forest of maple and oak trees.

Gold and crimson leaves covered the ground, and the afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches.

Eventually, Sawyer turned onto a narrow gravel path.

I gripped the door handle.

"Is this an actual road?"

"Sure is."

"Does the state of West Virginia know about it?"

He chuckled.

"Pretty sure."

"How comforting."

The truck climbed another short distance before the trees began to thin.

Then Sawyer brought us to a stop.

"Here we are."

I looked around.

A small clearing stretched before us, bordered by wild grass and a few scattered trees.

Beyond it, the land seemed to fall away.

Sawyer turned off the engine.

"Come on."

He climbed out.

I followed, pulling my jacket more tightly around myself.

The air was cooler up here.

Crisp.

Clean.

And when I walked around the front of the truck, I stopped.

Completely.

"Oh..."

Before me lay the entire town of Pleasant Valley.

The little houses looked like something from a storybook.

I could see the church steeple, the winding roads, clusters of trees, and the rooftops of buildings I'd begun to recognize.

Beyond the town stretched rolling hills and forests glowing beneath the afternoon sun.

The mountains rose in the distance, their peaks disappearing into a faint blue haze.

It was breathtaking.

Absolutely breathtaking.

"Oh, Sawyer."

He stood beside me.

"Pretty, ain't it?"

I shook my head.

"Pretty doesn't begin to describe it."

I took several steps forward, careful to remain on the level ground.

From up here, Pleasant Valley looked peaceful.

Untouched.

As though the world had somehow forgotten to disturb it.

"It's magnificent," I whispered.

Sawyer said nothing.

I turned toward him.

He wasn't looking at the view.

He was looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothin'."

I smiled.

"You're staring again."

"Been accused of that before."

"By whom?"

He looked away.

For a moment, something changed in his expression.

Something quiet.

Almost sad.

Then he reached into the truck and retrieved the paper bag.

"Come on. Let's eat before these sandwiches get soggy."

I watched him for another second.

Then followed.

There was a large, flat rock a short distance from where he'd parked.

Sawyer spread a clean blanket across it.

I stared.

"You brought a blanket?"

"Yep."

"How unexpectedly civilized."

He grinned.

"Try not to sound so surprised."

I sat down carefully.

He handed me a wrapped sandwich and a canned Coke.

I examined the sandwich.

White bread.

Ham.

Cheese.

Lettuce.

Tomato.

Exactly as advertised.

No artisan sourdough.

No imported cheese.

No carefully arranged garnish.

Just a sandwich.

And somehow, sitting on a mountain overlooking a tiny West Virginia town, it seemed absolutely perfect.

I took a bite.

Sawyer watched me.

"Well?"

I chewed thoughtfully.

"Acceptable."

He laughed.

"Acceptable?"

"Quite."

"Best compliment I'm gonna get, huh?"

"Don't be greedy."

He shook his head and took a bite of his own sandwich.

For a while, we ate in comfortable silence.

The wind rustled through the trees.

Somewhere in the distance, a bird called.

I watched a few cars move along the road far below us.

Tiny little things.

Like toys.

"How did you find this place?" I finally asked.

Sawyer swallowed.

"Been comin' up here since I was a kid."

"Really?"

"Yep. Used to ride my horse up here when I needed to get away from everybody."

I smiled.

"That sounds rather lonely."

"Wasn't."

"No?"

He shook his head.

"Sometimes a man just needs a little peace and quiet."

I laughed softly.

"Something tells me you don't get much of that."

"Not lately."

I turned toward him.

He was grinning.

"Oh, very funny."

"Just sayin'."

I nudged his arm with my elbow.

He laughed.

Then I looked out over the town again.

"Do you bring people here often?"

His smile faded slightly.

"No."

"Really?"

"Nope."

I tilted my head.

"Surely you must have shown someone. Your family? Ricky?"

"Ricky knows about it. We used to ride around these hills when we were kids."

"And the women?"

He looked at me.

"What women?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, please, Sawyer. You're a handsome man. I'm not going to pretend you haven't had your share of admirers."

His mouth twitched.

"Handsome, huh?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

I laughed.

"Answer the question."

He looked toward the valley.

"No. I don't bring women up here."

I blinked.

"Never?"

He hesitated.

"Just one."

Something about the way he said it caught my attention.

"One?"

"Yeah."

I waited.

He picked at the label on his Coke can.

Then he spoke again.

"My wife."

The words settled between us.

My wife.

I turned toward him.

For a moment, I wasn't certain I'd heard correctly.

"Your wife?"

He nodded.

"Yeah."

I looked at his left hand.

No wedding ring.

I'd noticed that before, although I'd never given it much thought.

An uncomfortable realization crept over me.

"Oh."

I swallowed.

"I didn't realize you were married."

He looked out over the valley.

"I'm not. Not anymore."

I felt a small, unexpected sting of disappointment.

Of course.

A man like Sawyer would have a past.

Perhaps an ex-wife.

Perhaps children.

Perhaps an entire life I knew nothing about.

I tried to sound casual.

"Divorced?"

He shook his head.

"No."

One word.

Quiet.

Heavy.

And suddenly, I understood.

My stomach tightened.

"Oh, Sawyer..."

He stared toward the distant mountains.

"She died."

The wind moved softly through the grass.

I set my sandwich down.

"I'm so sorry."

He nodded once.

"Thanks."

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

The teasing cowboy was gone.

In his place sat a man whose face had become terribly still.

His jaw tightened, and his eyes remained fixed on something far beyond the town below us.

I lowered my voice.

"May I ask what happened?"

For several seconds, he said nothing.

I immediately regretted asking.

"You don't have to tell me," I added gently. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Car accident."

I fell silent.

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the Coke can.

"Almost three years ago."

I watched him carefully.

"Her name was Adeline."

It was the first time I'd heard him say her name.

And the tenderness with which he spoke it made my chest ache.

"That's a beautiful name," I whispered.

He smiled faintly.

"Yeah. She was beautiful, too."

I looked away for a moment, giving him space.

Below us, the little town continued with its ordinary Sunday afternoon.

People drove along the streets.

Smoke drifted from a distant chimney.

Life went on.

And I found myself thinking how cruel that could be.

How the world could continue turning when someone's entire existence had been shattered.

"She loved this place," Sawyer said.

I turned back toward him.

"She did?"

He nodded.

"Used to say you could see the whole world from up here."

I looked out over the valley.

"Well, I can understand why."

He smiled.

"First time I brought her here, she sat right where you're sittin' and told me I was full of shit."

I blinked.

Then laughed softly.

"She sounds delightful."

"She was."

He chuckled under his breath.

"Said there was no way a view could be worth ridin' a horse up a damn mountain."

"And was she wrong?"

He looked at me.

"Yeah. She was."

I smiled.

"Well, at least she had the good sense to admit it."

He nodded.

"Eventually."

We fell quiet again.

I didn't want to pry.

Didn't want to turn his grief into something he felt obligated to explain.

But there was a question lingering in my mind.

One I wasn't certain I had the right to ask.

"Sawyer?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you miss her?"

He looked at me.

For the first time since we'd arrived, there was no sarcasm in his expression.

No teasing.

No attempt to turn the conversation into a joke.

"Every damn day."

My throat tightened.

I nodded slowly.

"Of course you do."

He looked down at his hands.

"Some days are easier than others."

I waited.

"And some days..." He exhaled. "Some days it feels like it happened yesterday."

I didn't know what to say.

For once, words failed me.

And perhaps that was all right.

Perhaps not every silence needed to be filled.

I moved my hand across the blanket and rested it gently over his.

He looked down.

Then at me.

"I'm sorry you lost her," I whispered.

His expression softened.

"Thank you, Chloe."

There was something different about the way he said my name.

Not princess.

Not city girl.

Just Chloe.

I gave his hand a small squeeze before letting go.

We sat together for a while, watching the town below.

Eventually, I spoke.

"She must have been very special."

He smiled.

"She was."

I nodded.

"Then I'm glad you had her."

He turned toward me.

I continued softly.

"Even if it wasn't for nearly as long as you deserved."

Something flickered across his face.

He swallowed.

Then looked away.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Me too."

I didn't ask anything else.

Not about the accident.

Not about their marriage.

Not about the life they'd shared.

Those stories belonged to him.

And if he ever wanted to tell me, I would listen.

For now, I simply sat beside him.

Two people from entirely different worlds.

Sharing a sandwich on a mountain.

Watching a little town that had somehow begun to feel less foreign to me.

After a while, Sawyer cleared his throat.

"Well, princess."

I glanced at him.

"Yes?"

"How's the sandwich?"

I smiled.

"Still acceptable."

He chuckled.

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

He shook his head.

I looked toward the valley one last time.

Then back at him.

"Sawyer?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for bringing me here."

He held my gaze.

For a moment, I thought he might say something important.

Something neither of us was quite prepared to hear.

Instead, he smiled.

“You're welcome, princess.”

I returned his smile, although something inside me had begun to shift.

Perhaps it was the quiet intimacy of the moment. Or perhaps I was simply exhausted from carrying a secret that had become too painful to bear alone.

Whatever the reason, I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to tell him something about myself.

Something real.

Not everything, of course.

I wasn't prepared to unravel the elaborate collection of half-truths I'd constructed since arriving in Pleasant Valley.

But perhaps I could offer him one small piece of the truth.

“I found my husband in bed with someone else,” I murmured.

The words escaped before I could reconsider them.

My stomach tightened.

Sawyer's smile disappeared.

He didn't interrupt or immediately offer some well-intentioned remark.

He simply waited.

“We'd been married for almost five years.”

“Five years?” he repeated quietly.

I nodded, staring at my hands.

“Nearly five years of marriage, and apparently I knew considerably less about the man than I believed.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“And to make matters worse, it happened in our own bed. With someone I trusted.”

Sawyer was silent for a moment.

“Lemme guess. Your best friend?”

I hesitated.

Not entirely inaccurate, I supposed.

But the truth was infinitely more complicated.

“Something along those lines.”

He shook his head slowly.

“That's some messed-up shit.”

I gave him a faint, humorless smile.

“A remarkably accurate assessment.”

His expression softened.

“I'm sorry, Chloe.”

There was no teasing in his voice.

No sarcasm.

Just three simple words, spoken with a sincerity I hadn't expected.

And somehow, that made them considerably harder to hear.

“I knew I had to divorce him. There was simply no other choice.”

Sawyer didn't respond.

He continued eating his sandwich, his gaze resting on the magnificent landscape stretching beneath us.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

“I suppose we're both a little broken,” I added quietly.

And then, without giving myself an opportunity to reconsider, I did something I never would have imagined doing in my thirty-one years of existence.

I moved closer to him.

And rested my head against his shoulder.

Sawyer went still.

For one dreadful second, I wondered whether I'd overstepped some invisible boundary.

But he didn't pull away.

He didn't complain.

He simply remained beside me, allowing the silence to settle comfortably between us.

And then, almost imperceptibly, I felt the tension leave his shoulder.

As though he'd decided that having me there wasn't quite so terrible after all.

I smiled to myself.

My gaze drifted toward the half-eaten sandwich in my hand.

The blanket spread beneath us.

The two cans of Coke.

The breathtaking panorama of mountains and valleys.

And, of course, the exceptionally handsome cowboy whose shoulder I had rather boldly claimed as my own.

A thoroughly ridiculous thought entered my mind.

One that any sensible woman would have kept to herself.

Unfortunately, discretion had never been among my most dependable virtues.

“Sawyer?”

He released an exaggerated sigh.

“What now, woman?”

I tilted my head just enough to look at him.

“Is this a date?”

He stopped chewing.

Entirely.

I watched his expression transform.

Surprise.

Confusion.

And then something remarkably close to panic.

I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile.

Oh, this was going to be delightful.

“A date?” he repeated.

“Yes, Sawyer. A date.”

He swallowed.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

I gestured toward our surroundings.

“Well, shall we examine the evidence?”

He groaned.

“Jesus Christ.”

“You invited me for a drive.”

“Yep.”

“You purchased lunch.”

“Yep.”

“You thoughtfully provided a blanket.”

“What's wrong with a blanket?”

“And then you brought me to a secluded mountain overlooking what can only be described as an exceptionally romantic landscape.”

He stared at me.

I offered him my sweetest smile.

“One might reasonably conclude that certain romantic intentions were involved.”

Sawyer dragged a hand down his face.

“Princess…”

“Yes, cowboy?”

“You're overthinkin' it.”

“Am I?”

“Yep.”

I studied him.

His ears were turning pink.

How utterly fascinating.

I leaned a fraction closer.

“Then I suppose this isn't a date.”

“Nope.”

“Not even a very small one?”

He looked at me.

I looked back.

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

Then, ever so slowly, a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

“Depends.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“On what, precisely?”

“Whether you're gonna make me pay for your next hair appointment.”

I burst into laughter.

“Oh, Sawyer!”

He laughed with me.

And somehow, the sadness that had accompanied our earlier conversation began to loosen its hold.

It didn't disappear.

I doubted either of us could dismiss our pain quite so easily.

But it softened.

Just enough to make room for something warmer.

Something unfamiliar.

Something neither of us seemed particularly eager to acknowledge.

I took another bite of my sandwich.

“Well, for the record, I think this has been a lovely afternoon.”

He glanced at me.

“Yeah?”

I nodded.

“Quite lovely.”

His smile returned.

“Good.”

I settled comfortably beside him and turned my attention toward Pleasant Valley.

For the first time in my life, I found myself considering the possibility that an afternoon costing less than twenty dollars could be infinitely more precious than the extravagant evenings I'd once considered extraordinary.

There had been private dinners in Paris.

Exclusive restaurants in Manhattan.

Champagne that cost more than most people's monthly mortgage payments.

Yet none of those occasions had offered quite the same sense of peace as sitting on an old blanket, eating a simple sandwich beside a cowboy who apparently considered teasing me a recreational activity.

I glanced at Sawyer.

He was gazing toward the distant mountains, his expression thoughtful.

I wondered what memories lingered behind those brown eyes.

What sorrows he'd learned to carry in silence.

And whether, someday, he might trust someone enough to share them.

I had no answers.

But I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

Whatever this afternoon represented…

A date.

A friendship.

Or something neither of us had anticipated…

I wasn't ready for it to end.