One of the toddlers moaned in her sleep, and they both looked toward the crib.
“You’re my friend,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. She met his gaze, silently begging him to believe her. “You’re the guy who could make me laugh when I felt at my worst. You were kind, in little ways other people weren’t. You used to get sad when you saw a dead baby bird at the bottom of a tree. And you once carried a newborn calf in your arms for a full mile to get it back to the barn where you could warm it up.” She put her hand on his arm.
“I don’t remember that...” he murmured.
“Well, I do,” she said. “When I was working as a waitress, you saw this old farmer treat me like garbage. He said I messed up his order, and maybe I did. But you came in and made this big scene and left me a twenty-dollar tip in front of everyone.” She smiled mistily. “When I got off of work, you wouldn’t let me spend the money on ice cream to share. You paid for the ice cream, too.”
“I did that?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, you did. And more. You were my best friend until I had to step back and let your wife be your best friend. But when I did that, I was giving up a really great guy in my life...” Her voice caught. “And I missed you...”
Sawyer raised his hand and touched her cheek. It was only then that she realized a tear had escaped, and she leaned her face into his warm palm.
“I wish I could remember that stuff,” he breathed.
“I remember it for the both of us,” she said, and a lump rose in her throat.
His dark eyes met hers, and she could see the anguish swimming there. But there was hope now, too, and as his gaze moved over her face, she felt the moment between them deepen. His lips parted, and he stepped closer to her, so that she could feel the warmth of his chest emanating from him. He ran his hands down her arms, and they felt strong and warm against her chilled skin. In their friendship, they’d tried to avoid moments like this—touching each other, holding on to each other...because they knew where it would lead all too easily.
“Why is it that you can make me feel better?” he murmured.
“I’m useful that way,” she said, attempting to joke, but it didn’t land, and he didn’t laugh. He reached up and touched a curl at the side of her face. This time, she refused to lean her cheek into his touch, no matter how much she wanted to.
Sawyer might not remember the simmering chemistry between them, but she did. They’d been friends, but they’d also fought to keep it that way, because without some firm self-control, their relationship would have tumbled into the romantic.
He made her feel better, too. He was still the one she could rely on, even when his memory had betrayed him.
“Sawyer...” she breathed. He should be warned... She’d never told him about this part of their friendship.
But then there was the sound of the side door opening and the clomp of boots. Lloyd was home, and Olivia took a step back.
She licked her lips and suppressed a sigh.
“Your uncle’s here,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat.
Olivia didn’t know what he was feeling, but she knew better than to let herself go with the flow of whatever was building between them again.
“I’m going to work with my uncle this afternoon,” Sawyer said briskly.
“Sawyer, you’re recovering—” she began, but a searing look from him silenced her.
“I need to do this,” he said quietly. “Can you watch my girls?”
His girls... She nodded. “Yes.”
“Thank you.”
And he brushed past her, out of the bedroom. She could hear his footsteps going down the hall and she shut her eyes.
Lord, keep my feet on the ground, she prayed. I have to remember for us both.
Chapter Nine
Sawyer grabbed his jacket and got his hat off the peg by the side door. Lloyd stood at the counter, pouring coffee from the pot into his thermos, steam billowing up in a fragrant cloud. The older man looked over at Sawyer in surprise.
“I’m working with you this afternoon,” Sawyer said curtly. “And if you don’t like that, I’m going out on my own.”
Lloyd didn’t answer, just slowly screwed the lid back onto his thermos.
“So, are you driving, or am I?” Sawyer asked.
Lloyd met his gaze seriously. “What happened?”
An image of Olivia was still vivid in his mind—her upturned face, her teary eyes, and the way his heart had thudded in his ears as he looked down at her. He’d wanted more—to hold her again, to pull her closer... He pushed it back.
“Nothing. Apparently, I’m a bit of a workaholic. The accident didn’t change that.”
“Was hoping it might,” Lloyd muttered, and then he sighed. “Fine. I’ll drive.”
Sawyer had expected a bigger fight from his uncle, but maybe the old guy had seen it coming. Sawyer headed outside, letting the screen door slam shut behind him, and he stood in the cool breeze, his thoughts spinning.
He’d almost kissed Olivia. If Lloyd hadn’t come back, he probably would have. There had been something about that cozy quiet of the room, her deep belief in his goodness, and those sparkling brown eyes that pulled him in so easily... And even now, all he could think about was covering her soft pink lips with his.
Having her in his arms would be a powerful comfort right about now. But he hardly remembered his own history. He had no business starting up a romantic relationship. He didn’t even know who he was yet! Besides, she wasn’t sticking around—she’d made that clear. And he understood why.
Sawyer had to get out and work today, though, for his own sanity and to give himself some distance from Olivia. Whatever he was
