A Place to Rest Part 4

CHAPTER FOUR.

Sunday morning, Sawyer pulled into Jori's driveway just as she was descending the steps of her apartment and allowed herself a moment to drink in the sight. Seeing her for the fi rst time in something other than the boxy chef jacket and loose pants, she felt a fl ash of arousal. Jori's red polo shirt was tucked into khaki shorts riding low on narrow hips. Short, shiny curls were free of their usual bandana, and dark sungla.s.ses obscured eyes Sawyer already knew she could get lost in.

"Good morning." Jori bent to smile at her through the car window, and when Sawyer saw a small gold four-leaf clover resting in the hollow between her collarbones, she fought the urge to reach out and touch it.

She stretched across and pushed the door open, took the foil-covered plate Jori carried, and held it until she got settled.

Jori glanced at Sawyer as she turned the car around and headed down the drive. She looked comfortable, steering with one hand draped over the top of the wheel. She wore baggy camoufl age cargo shorts and an olive green T-shirt, and the baseball cap pulled low over her eyes shaded her face.

Sawyer glanced pointedly at the plate on Jori's lap.

"Double-fudge brownies." Jori laughed as she guessed the sudden look of desire on Sawyer's face was for the brownies, not her. "I know Brady said not to bring anything, but I fi gured everyone likes dessert, right?"

* 43 *

"Tell me they're frosted and you'll own me."

Jori was surprised by a surge of pleasure in reaction to Sawyer's words. An unsolicited vision of herself claiming Sawyer fl ew through her mind. "I'm sorry, no. They're not frosted."

"Well, I'm sure they're good, just the same."

Sawyer turned her attention back to the road, and Jori mentally jerked her mind back on track. She had no business thinking about Sawyer s.e.xually; that would only lead to trouble.

When Sawyer pulled the car up to the curb in front of a ranch-style home, Jori felt the familiar racing of her heart and questioned why she had agreed to this outing.

She'd been described as shy, but Jori thought the description a bit simple for the panic that bordered on debilitating. Her chest tightened and she struggled to keep her breathing even. After a lifetime of feeling this way, she should be used to the weakness in her limbs and her sweating palms, and she tried to talk herself out of her nervousness. It wasn't like she was a complete stranger, thank G.o.d, or she would be shaking and nauseated. "I know Brady, Erica, and Sawyer," she mentally chanted while she willed her heart to slow.

As she followed Sawyer to the backyard, she tried not to think about the other fi fteen to twenty people Sawyer had said would be there. She forced herself to focus on the expanse of Sawyer's back and the set of her broad shoulders rather than the ball of fear forming in her stomach. Sawyer's T-shirt was tucked in, her shorts rode low, and a wide brown leather belt circled her hips. Watching Sawyer's arms swing slightly at her sides, Jori had the sudden urge to capture one of her hands and try to draw strength from her obvious social ease. Instead, she followed in Sawyer's wake as if she could blend into the aura of confi dence that surrounded her.

At least a dozen adults stood in groups around the large * 44 *

backyard talking and laughing, and nearly as many children zoomed around.

"Would you like a beer or some lemonade?" Sawyer asked as she led her toward a picnic table laden with food.

"Lemonade sounds great, thank you."

"Hey, Jori," Brady called from where he stood nearby expertly fl ipping a row of hamburgers. The smoky scent rising from the grill made her stomach growl.

"h.e.l.lo, Brady. Something smells delicious."

"Yeah, Brady's the man on the grill," Sawyer said as she handed her a plastic cup. "But he sticks to that because he knows he can't compete with Erica's potato salad."

"Yes. It's true. I bow to my sister's culinary mastery." Brady laughed.

"See that you remember that. Hi, Jori," Erica said as she walked by carrying a plate of hamburger buns.

"Don't worry, I have him well trained." A tall strawberry blonde winked at Brady. She shifted the bags of potato chips she carried into one arm and with the other drew Sawyer into a hug.

"You don't come around often enough," she murmured, then released her and smiled at Jori. "I'm Brady's wife, Paige."

"Jori." She had seen Paige at the restaurant a few times when she fi rst started working there, but they'd never actually met. She did remember, though, being impressed by the level of respect Brady seemed to have for his wife, evident in the way he had talked about her and now in the way he looked at her.

"Ah, the pastry chef. I've heard good things about you.

Welcome to our home."

"Thank you." She couldn't help but be taken in by Paige's friendly smile. Her green eyes were bright, and the dash of freckles across the bridge of her nose was the only hint of color on otherwise porcelain skin.

"You two go get some food. I'll bring these over in a minute."

Brady began stacking the burgers and hot dogs on a platter.

Jori followed Sawyer to the picnic table, then-after they * 45 *

fi lled their plates with potato salad, baked beans, corn on the cob, and hamburgers-to a couple of lawn chairs under a tree.

She took a bite of the potato salad and said, "You're right.

The salad's great. I know Erica and Brady are chefs. What happened to you?"

"I'm the black sheep," Sawyer said lightly, and Jori wondered if she was being blown off. But then she continued. "Erica wants to be in the kitchen, not the offi ce. That was always supposed to be my place."

"But you don't want it. Why did your parents choose to retire when they knew Erica didn't really want to take over?"

"They didn't exactly choose. My dad had a heart attack."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"He's fi ne. It was a mild one. But his doctor told him he was on his way to another if he didn't slow down. So they decided it was time to do what they always talked about doing and they retired."

"And Erica took over."

"Yes." Sawyer paused and bit into her hamburger, hesitant to reveal what she knew everyone else saw as selfi shness on her part. "By the time they were in junior high, Erica and Brady knew they wanted to cook. They both waited tables at Drake's during high school. So everyone a.s.sumed I'd take Dad's place.

And when it came time to go to college, I didn't feel pa.s.sionate about any other subject, so I majored in business as expected. But when it came time to work at the restaurant I started feeling like I might suffocate."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's like I was supposed to fi t into a mold that just wasn't right for me." She hadn't wanted to step into the role her father had prepared. She wanted to fi nd her own way, but, looking back, she hadn't been very successful at that either. "I had to try something else."

"What did you do?"

* 46 *

"What didn't I do? You name it and I think I've done it.

Waited tables, worked at a law offi ce and at the zoo." Sawyer ticked them off on her fi ngers.

"But you didn't stay at any of those places?"

Sawyer shrugged, unable to explain why she'd never felt settled. There was no great drama or deciding factor, but with each of those jobs she had suddenly become restless and had to get out. She'd hoped that if she found a career that fi t, she might begin to feel more comfortable in her own skin. "So what about you, did you always want to be a chef?"

Jori considered the question, trying to decide how much to reveal. "Yeah, I used to cook a lot when I was younger. After high school I went to culinary school during the day and waited tables at night and on weekends."

As a child she'd begun planning early to be on her own. She had known since she was old enough to understand what it meant to be in foster care that she would someday have to survive alone.

In the last of a string of foster homes she had been charged with caring for the younger children while both parents worked late every night. She quickly learned how to cook for them, and since the pantry was rarely well stocked, she also fi gured out how to be creative with few ingredients. So when it came time to choose a career, she'd gravitated toward food. It had taken some time and a lot of work for her to get there, but all the work had been worth it. She loved her job, especially since she had come to Drake's, and she constantly challenged herself to create new recipes.

"You worked full-time while you were in school?"

"Sure. I had to pay the rent somehow." When, the day after her eighteenth birthday, her foster parents told her she needed to fi nd someplace else to live, she was prepared. She packed her few belongings, retrieved the money she'd hidden in a coffee can in the back of her closet, and found a tiny apartment in the warehouse district.

"My parents paid for our education, because they a.s.sumed * 47 *

we would work at Drake's, and I guess they considered it an investment in the restaurant." Sawyer gave a self-effacing grin.

"Two out of three ain't bad, huh?"

"You're there now."

"Yeah, but that's temporary. And don't think my mother didn't ask for a refund when she found out I got a job as a tour guide on a trolley after college."

Jori wasn't successful in smothering a laugh. "You were a tour guide? Did you have a uniform?"

"Yes, I did." Mischief fl ashed in Sawyer's eyes. She leaned close and lowered her voice. "And I looked d.a.m.n cute in it."

"I'll just bet you did." Jori pictured her in a sharply pressed khaki uniform pointing out tourist attractions and thought her square-framed gla.s.ses would make her seem even more knowledgeable. She was probably popular among the guests, friendly and engaging.

Sawyer laughed and, taking Jori's empty plate, she stood.

"Can I get you anything else? Another drink?"

"No, I'm fi ne."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Jori watched as Sawyer disposed of their plates and strode confi dently through the crowd, occasionally pausing to return a greeting. She was surprised at the slight clench of jealousy when Sawyer leaned close to a pretty young woman and smiled as they spoke. Sawyer laughed at something the woman said, then moved on.

She looked comfortable and relaxed, and Jori was envious.

She'd never had that level of ease. Merely being there-sitting apart from the group-had her stomach in knots. She'd been fi ne while they were talking, but without Sawyer at her side she again felt nervousness build inside her.

"Miss me?" Sawyer asked with a grin when she returned.

"Oh, yes, terribly." Jori purposely injected false enthusiasm into her voice.

"Okay. You don't need to patronize me."

* 48 *

Jori held back her response as a blond boy, a miniature Brady, ran over.

"Aunt Sawyer, we're gonna play T-ball and we need an umpire." Sawyer barely kept from falling out of her chair when he yanked her hand. She glanced at Jori.

"Go ahead," Jori said as he continued to tug.

"Come on," he grumbled.

"Come with me. The boys could use a cheerleader."

"Maybe later," Jori hedged. She wasn't the cheerleader type.

"They could be at it for a while. My kids have endless energy," Paige said as she approached Jori's spot under the tree.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Please." Jori gestured to the chair Sawyer had vacated.

"Which are yours?"

"That's my oldest, Daniel, playing fi rst base." She pointed to the blond who had come to persuade Sawyer to join them. Paige searched the group of children before indicating a smaller boy wandering around in the outfi eld. "And there's Quintin."

Instead of paying attention to the action at home plate, he bent down to study something in the gra.s.s at his feet.

"He looks just like you." His hair was a halo of shiny strawberry curls, and Jori guessed if she were close enough she would see freckles dotting his pale skin.

"Yeah, poor kid."

"What are you talking about? You're beautiful." Jori had spoken without thinking, and as soon as she realized what she'd said, she felt her face fl ush. "I mean-I-"

"Thank you." Paige touched her arm fl eetingly. But her easy acceptance did little to cool the heat in Jori's cheeks.

"Um, so, Erica said you're a stay-at-home mom," Jori said in an effort to draw attention from her embarra.s.sment.

"Before the kids, I worked in an offi ce downtown, but with * 49 *

the hours Brady keeps it was sometimes hard to plan for child care. Eventually we realized it made more sense for me to stay home." Her eyes followed the action on the makeshift diamond.