A Place to Rest Part 1

A PLACE TO REST.

by Erin Dutton.

Acknowledgments.

With every new project I'm reminded how lucky I am.

Thanks to my editor, Sh.e.l.ley Thrasher, for your patience and expertise. Working with you has been both an education and an absolute joy. And thanks to copy editor Stacia Seaman. I'm amazed at how you see every detail.

As always, thanks to Radclyffe and Jennifer Knight for your continued support and guidance.

Connie Ward, thank you for all that you do for BSB and for each of us individually. You're a good friend and I've enjoyed getting to know you.

There are so many people behind the scenes adding to the amazing environment of Bold Strokes Books. I'm privileged to be connected to such a talented group.

Dedication.

Family is a big part of this story. So it seems only right that I dedicate it to mine.

For always giving me a place to belong.

A PLACE TO REST.

CHAPTER ONE.

Sawyer Drake rolled over and squinted at the bedside clock through eyes that weren't quite sharp enough without the correction of her black square-framed gla.s.ses. Seven a.m.? Who the h.e.l.l was calling her at seven a.m.? She s.n.a.t.c.hed up the receiver, pressed the b.u.t.ton to end the offending noise, and growled into the phone.

"What?"

The voice that greeted her was far too cheery for the time of day. "Is that how you answer your phone? Really, Sawyer, I raised you to be more personable than that."

"Morning, Mom. I'm not usually personable until at least nine."

"I know, dear. That's why I called at seven. I was hoping to catch you off guard."

Sawyer laughed at her mother's candor. Tia Drake was nothing if not honest, and when she wanted something she made it clear. "What do you want, Mom?"

"I need a favor, Sawyer."

Sawyer pushed aside the covers and crawled out of bed, then padded down the short hallway of the two-bedroom apartment she shared with her best friend. In the kitchen, she moved from carpet to cool tile and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

* 9 *

"Of course you do." Sawyer sipped from the bottle, letting the cold water soothe her dry throat. "Ever since you and Dad moved to Florida, you only call when you want something."

"Yes, I know," Tia said sarcastically. "Next you'll tell me I call your brother and sister more than I call you."

Sawyer cringed. Though she'd been teasing and knew her mother was doing the same, Tia had touched a nerve in talking about Sawyer's siblings. At thirty-two, Sawyer was four years older than her brother and sister, fraternal twins. She supposed it was normal for one child to think another got preferential treatment. And over the years she probably should have gotten used to her siblings getting more attention, especially when they were younger. People tended to coo over twin babies.

Tia interrupted her musings about her family dynamics.

"Sawyer, I need you to do something for me. Have you found a new job yet?"

"Not yet." She'd been unemployed for two weeks since she left her job at the zoo. Although, in her defense, how long could they expect her to sit in a bamboo shack and sell tickets before she got bored?

"I want you to consider going to work with your sister."

When a health scare had encouraged their father to consider early retirement, her parents had fi nally decided to leave Nashville and make that move south they had been talking about for years.

Sawyer's sister, Erica, had reluctantly taken the reins of the family restaurant, Drake's.

"Mom-"

"Hear me out, Sawyer," Tia said in a tone she knew better than to interrupt. "I know you've never been interested in working at the restaurant. But Erica needs your help."

"She didn't say-"

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

Sawyer took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. Her mother had a habit of not letting her fi nish a sentence. "I don't know. A few weeks ago, I guess."

* 10 *

"She says you haven't been by Drake's in months."

"I haven't had time." Sawyer regretted the white lie the moment it pa.s.sed her lips. She wandered into the spa.r.s.ely decorated living room and settled on one end of the sofa. Beige sofa, neutral carpet, and white walls. She kept promising herself that she would decorate the apartment, but it just never seemed to take priority. Her friend and roommate, Matthew, had added the few personal touches, such as the large burgundy vase and the colorful abstract painting.

"So then, daughter of mine, how have you been whiling away your hours of unemployment?"

"Ah-well-I-"

"Exactly as I thought. Erica's pregnant, Sawyer. You could at least go by there and check on her once in a while."

Her sister was nearly seven months along and planning to have the baby on her own. Every time Sawyer talked to her mother she had to listen to a monologue about how it must be so hard for Erica to be going through this all alone and how Sawyer should check on her more often. She would endure as long as she could before making an excuse to get off the phone.

"Mom, she works with Brady every day. It's not like she's by herself," she argued in vain, knowing her mother wouldn't see her brother's presence as a fi tting subst.i.tute. From the time Sawyer was old enough, Tia had often left her in charge of her younger siblings while she and their father spent long hours at the restaurant.

"That's no excuse for you to not care about her."

"It's not that I don't care about her, you know that." It took some effort for her to keep from raising her voice. Her mother could be exasperating when she wanted to. It was how she wore a person down, and no doubt she knew Sawyer would give in.

"Jesus, Mom. Okay. I'll go over there."

"And you'll work with her?"

"Now you're pushing your luck," she muttered, resting her feet on the oak coffee table in front of her.

* 11 *

"Try it for a few weeks. If you give it a fair shot, I won't bother you about it anymore."

Sawyer sighed. Well, what else was she going to do for the next few weeks? She hadn't found anything else yet, and a cushy job at her family's restaurant would be as good as any. She could just go in a few days a week and hang out with her brother and sister, and as an added bonus, her mother would think she was making an effort. This was a good opportunity to eliminate one of their arguing points. "If I do this and it doesn't work out, I'll never hear another word about working at the restaurant. Right?"

"Right," Tia agreed after a moment of silence.

"Okay, Mom. I'll try."

Minutes later she hung up and went back into the bathroom.

She brushed her teeth and wondered, as she did every morning, if she should consider tinted contact lenses. Her brown eyes were very ordinary, so she thought about trying something in green or hazel. She'd considered contacts several times, mostly out of vanity, thinking her gla.s.ses made her look like a nerd. But as the years went by, she'd grown accustomed to them, even hiding behind them at times.

After a quick shower she ran a brush through her chin-length light brown hair and decided to let it air dry. She pulled a pair of khakis and a b.u.t.ton-down blue striped shirt from the closet.

I should iron this shirt. But why bother? Who did she need to impress? Erica? This would be the easiest job interview she'd ever had.

"It's not too late to leave," Sawyer muttered to herself that afternoon as she shifted in a chair in her sister's offi ce. "Erica hasn't even seen me yet."

She'd left word with the hostess on the way in that she would be waiting for Erica. So she tried to get comfortable in one of the expensive-looking chairs decorating the small offi ce. Sawyer * 12 *

remembered many afternoons spent curled up in her father's old, comfortable furniture after school doing homework while he worked at the desk. Erica had redecorated earlier in the year after she had taken over and had obviously chosen the muted olive green-and-beige-patterned chairs for aesthetics rather than comfort. She seemingly hadn't wanted anything to compete with the bold artistic photos featuring some of their specialties that she'd had blown up and displayed on the walls. And she had replaced the scarred wooden desk that once held her father's old adding machine with a more modern-looking gla.s.s-and-chrome desk that now boasted a sleek desktop computer.

Sawyer was still considering her chances of escaping unnoticed when the offi ce door opened and Erica hurried inside.

She spared Sawyer only a quick glance as she moved behind the desk. Sawyer appraised her, thinking she looked tired. Her normally bright blue eyes had lost some of their sparkle, and her blond hair was pulled into a sloppy updo. Her stomach had rounded considerably since the last time Sawyer had seen her.

Erica sighed as she lowered herself into her chair.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm very busy today. What do you need, Sawyer?" she asked shortly.

"Well, I might be able to help you out." She leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. "I'm here for a job."

Erica stared at her. She'd been having a bad day already. Her vegetable delivery was late, one of her servers had quit, and her feet were swollen. Perhaps it wasn't fair, but right now she just wanted to slap that condescending smile right off Sawyer's face.

She was quite used to that expression, having seen it when they were growing up every time Sawyer excelled where she faltered.

School had been easy for Sawyer; she seemed to get good grades without putting in the hours of studying that Erica required. And she never seemed to tire of basking in their father's praise at report-card time.

Erica wondered what had motivated Sawyer to come in * 13 *

today. She'd never had trouble fi nding a job before, but perhaps this time was different. It was just like Sawyer to sweep in and act like she was doing her a favor. She probably expected to be thanked effusively for bailing her out. She was tempted to refuse the offer, out of pride. Then she smiled as an idea began to form that would solve one problem and also put Sawyer in her place.

"Okay."

"Okay?" It was clear from Sawyer's expression that she'd been expecting an argument. "Great. When do you want me to start?"

"Tonight. Follow me." Without waiting to see if Sawyer was behind her, Erica stood and walked out of the offi ce. She stopped at a linen closet in the hallway outside of the kitchen. "The entire dining room has been booked tonight for a fund-raiser for the mayor, and I'm down a server."

"Okay, cool. So-what? You want me to help out, hang around the dining room and make sure everyone's happy?"

Though she wasn't really into politics, she thought she could handle an evening of socializing. She could throw on her best suit and glad-hand the guests, putting up a good front for Drake's.

"No." Erica held out a uniform. "I need another server."

"Are you forgetting I've been a waitress?" she said, remembering the summer she'd spent on the Cape waiting tables.

"I didn't like it."

"If you want to come to work at Drake's, you have to start at the bottom. Learn the business from the ground up. Brady and I both did."

"You were sixteen when you were a server. I'm thirty-two years old and I have a business degree."

"Which you haven't used in ten years," Erica added, still holding out the black vest, tie, and ap.r.o.n.

Sawyer debated refusing but remembered her conversation with her mother. If she thought she'd gotten a guilt trip that morning, it would be nothing compared to their next phone * 14 *

conversation. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the uniform from Erica. "I hope you're enjoying this little power trip."

"Wear black slacks and a white shirt with that, please," Erica responded, ignoring Sawyer's snide comment. "And be here at fi ve," she called as Sawyer stalked away.

"I should have fi gured she'd be late. She acted like she wanted to help, but that doesn't mean she's changed," Erica muttered as she walked through the kitchen.

"Erica, are you talking to yourself?" her twin brother, Brady, asked from across the room. She glanced at features so like her own and felt some of her irritation ease. Brady calmed her; she could rely on him in ways she'd never relied on Sawyer.

"Your sister came by this morning asking for a job, and she's twenty minutes late for her fi rst shift."

Brady smiled. "She's always my sister when you're mad at her."

Erica crossed to the counter where her pastry chef was prepping. Jori Diamantina had been at Drake's for only six months, but she'd proved to be hardworking and creative. In just a few short weeks her dessert menu had begun to receive rave reviews. Erica had never regretted hiring her.