A Song For Rory. Cerella Sechrist
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accompanied that gesture—excitement coupled with adrenaline and just enough nervousness to keep him cool under pressure. Her entire body tingled, and she wondered if she should try to pass off his table to someone else.
She immediately dismissed the thought. He’d asked for her section. He knew she was here.
Drawing a deep breath, she headed for his table, dropping off table twelve’s check and promising to return for the payment shortly. Ten steps later, she was at his side.
He was facing away from her, looking out the window and over the water. She debated how to begin, whether to admit she recognized him through his thin disguise or behave as the server she was and ask if he’d like to start with something to drink.
In the end, he saved her from having to decide. He shifted in his seat, pulling his eyes away from the gray-blue of the Chesapeake’s water, lifting his gaze to meet hers.
“I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” she asked.
“How beautiful it is here.”
The way he said it made her realize he wasn’t referring to the view, and she fought back the heat flooding her cheeks. He looked the same, maybe better than when she’d last seen him in person. Or perhaps it was her complicated emotions making him seem that way. Sawyer had always been confident, but he seemed to hold himself with even more surety now. But then, setting country music records was likely to do that to a person.
Stabs of both jealousy and grief sliced through her. He’d become famous. He’d fulfilled his dream. And beneath the layers of frustration, a part of her was exceedingly proud of him. But he’d also left her, after years of shared joys and tears, when it was most convenient for him. And she’d spent the last twenty-three months trying to come to terms with the loss of him—her high-school sweetheart, the guy she’d waited for throughout army basic training and deployment, the man she’d traveled all over the United States with as they’d performed their music and chased their dreams.
Sawyer had been her soul mate. At one time she’d been closer to him than any other person on earth, her brother included. She hadn’t had many close relationships in her life, and Sawyer knew that. But she’d had him.
Until fame came calling.
“Rory? Aren’t you going to say anything? Welcome me home?”
He’d called her beautiful, as if that could make up for the heartache he’d caused her.
Without giving it a second thought, Rory turned and grabbed a half-full glass of ice water on a table waiting to be bused.
“Welcome home,” she offered and then tipped the water over the top of his head, dousing him.
And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, deciding Sawyer Landry could starve before she’d serve him.
* * *
SAWYER BLINKED THE water out of his eyes and groped for a napkin to wipe his face. He dabbed at his wet chin and pulled his baseball cap lower over his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized with the attention Rory had just drawn to him.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted aloud and used the sleeve of his T-shirt to mop some water from his jaw.
Seconds later, the hostess appeared with a handful of napkins, uttering profuse apologies for Rory’s behavior.
He shrugged. “I should have seen that coming. Rory never was one to take things lying down.”
The girl blinked, obviously puzzled. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her brow furrowing in concentration. Sawyer looked away, hoping she wouldn’t recognize him.
“You know Rory?”
He pushed back his chair. “Yeah, I’m her—” He stopped. “An old friend,” he said after a beat and stood.
“Sir, please. I don’t know what came over her, but I’m sure the manager will treat you to a meal on the house—”
“Not bloody likely.”
Sawyer turned as Connor, Rory’s older brother, approached the table. The other man’s expression was tight with anger. Sawyer held up his hands in surrender.
“Hey there, Connor. Good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“The place looks great. Your dad would have loved it.”
Connor made an angry noise in the back of his throat and took another step toward the table. Sawyer shifted his eyes to the hostess, in hope of reminding Connor they had an audience. But she wasn’t the only one watching them. From his peripheral vision, Sawyer noticed that most of the customers in the immediate vicinity had paused to witness the confrontation.
“I just wanted to see Rory,” Sawyer admitted. “I thought I’d surprise her. In retrospect, maybe showing up here wasn’t exactly the smartest way to go about it.”
Connor’s jaw clenched in reply.
“Listen, I know it’s more than I deserve, but I’d really like the chance to talk to her.”
“I’m not sure she wants to talk to you,” Connor growled.
“Fair enough. But would you mind asking her for me?”
“She’s working right now.”
Sawyer nodded. “Okay.” He sat back down in his chair. “In that case, I’ll just wait right here.”
Connor crossed his arms. “You’re not welcome here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Sawyer released a breath, trying to keep his cool. He and Connor had always gotten along in years past. Sawyer had a tremendous amount of respect for the other man, especially his devotion to his family and his dream of becoming a successful restaurateur. He’d always known Connor possessed the same Irish bullheadedness as Rory; he’d just rarely come up against its full force like this.
Still, the man was protecting his sister. And for that, Sawyer couldn’t blame him.
“What if I order something? I’d love to see what you—”
“No.” Connor’s voice was flat, brooking no argument.
Sawyer opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance.
“Oh, my gosh! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Recognition suddenly bloomed on the hostess’s face. Sawyer grimaced. Connor blinked.
“You’re him! You’re Sawyer Landry!”
Her excitement spread through the restaurant dining room, first hushed and then louder, like the click of falling dominoes gaining speed.
Sawyer knew it wouldn’t be long before he was assailed by autograph-seekers and picture-takers. Normally, he didn’t mind—it went with the territory, after all. But he’d come here to see Rory, and he didn’t imagine a rush of groupies in the restaurant dining area would endear him to Connor.
“Please, Connor, just tell her I want to talk.”
Connor’s arms remained crossed, his nostrils flared.
One of the servers timidly approached and thrust her order pad in Sawyer’s direction. “Would you mind giving me your autograph?”
“Dani, go see to your tables.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Sawyer heard the snap of photos and looked past Connor to see several restaurant patrons brandishing their phones and clicking away in his direction. He smiled at them and gave a little wave.
Dani began to slink away with an air of disappointment surrounding her.
“How about I drop by later and bring you a signed copy