"Of course it does." Amy rubbed her belly and smiled. "They're your brothers, not your lovers. They're keeping men at bay from their baby sister. Sawyer's protecting his woman."

"It all goes back to the Neanderthal days," Bella said.

"No way. I'm not some weak woman who wants to be dragged around by my hair and taken from behind by a grunting animal killer." As she said it, the idea of being taken from behind by Sawyer sent a p.r.i.c.kle of excitement up her limbs. "G.o.d, you guys. This is another thing. With Sawyer, I'm..." She lowered her voice, and they all leaned in toward the center of the table. "I'm so s.e.xual. Like I can't get enough of him."

"Primal." Bella nodded adamantly. She tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "You can say you don't want all that, but that's bulls.h.i.t. Every woman likes to be taken by their man. Not by any man, but by the one special man who makes your body turn to liquid heat and your mind go all mushy."

Sky rested her head back on the chair and closed her eyes. "You're telling me it's normal? Because it feels foreign."

"Good foreign or bad foreign?" Amy asked.

Sky's chin tipped forward, and she leveled a serious stare on Amy. "The sinfully good type. The kind that makes me feel like a s.l.u.t-and like it. The kind that makes me want to try out Bella's fluffy pink handcuffs and practically had me begging Sawyer to play with Jenna's scarf last night."

"Ha! Yes! You go, girl!" Jenna gave her a high five.

"That's the most delicious kind of carnal desires," Bella said. "And he's poetic? Sky. I think you might have found your ideal man."

"Except if that's true, then why can't I convince myself to watch him fight? I feel like I'm not being supportive, and I see it in his eyes, his worry over my thoughts about his fighting," Sky explained.

"Well, you're not a b.i.t.c.h, that's for sure, but I do think you should try to watch him fight," Jenna said. "It's not like he's out on the street beating the c.r.a.p out of strangers. It's his career, and one he's apparently really good at, from what Petey says. We could go with you."

"Or you could go see Jana fight first. Is that her name?" Amy asked. "Maybe if you see a girl doing it you'll feel different?"

"Maybe," Sky relented.

She eyed the basket. "And that stupid basket? I don't know if he wrote all that stuff or not, but I have to find out. It's like an itch that won't go away."

Tony and Sawyer came into view, jogging around the bend down by the pool. Sawyer's broad shoulders and shredded abs glistened with sweat. His powerful thighs bulged with every step. How was she supposed to think clearly now? His eyes lifted and immediately found hers, and a smile spread across his handsome face.

The universe had served up a creative, smart, caring, and emotional man who made her head spin, and the more time she spent with him, the harder she fell. But how could she expect him to feel for her what she felt for him if she didn't give him the same unconditional support he gave her?

As he stepped onto the deck and reached for her hand, surrounded by the people she loved most, she knew what she had to do. She had to watch him fight.

SAWYER'S HEART HAMMERED against his chest as he and Tony joined the girls on the deck, but it wasn't their run that had every ounce of his body aflame. It was his sweet summer Sky and the emotions radiating from her smiling eyes.

She laced her fingers with his and said, "I'm glad you found a running mate."

As he leaned in for a kiss, Amy and Jenna said, "Aww."

"She's hard to resist," he said honestly. "I caught up with Tony across Route 6."

"It was nice to get to know your new beau, Sky," Tony said as he rubbed Amy's belly, then bent to kiss her. "We ran down to the bay and stopped by Kurt and Leanna's. Leanna's business has really taken off. She's hiring more summer help, and she can't really come back to Seaside until she's got that under control. They aren't sure when they'll be back."

Sky rose to her feet. "Sawyer, why don't you sit down and I'll sit on your lap."

He did, and stole a kiss while he was at it.

"You guys are so cute," Amy said, then looked up at Tony. "Was Leanna doing okay?"

"I think she's working too hard," Tony answered. "She looked exhausted, and I know she misses you guys. She said she wished she could move Seaside to the bay so she could walk outside and see everyone."

"That would be amazing, wouldn't it?" Amy said. "The more Tony and I have thought about it, the more we're leaning toward buying on the bay. Then we could live there over the colder months and here in the spring and summer."

Sawyer gathered Sky's hair over one shoulder and said, "I can see why she misses you. You're like one big family-without the fighting."

"You are supercute," Jenna said. "Really, look at you playing with her hair."

Sawyer laughed. "She's supercute. I'm just l.u.s.ting after her." He wrapped an arm around Sky's waist. "I had no idea that you knew Kurt Remington. I've read all of his books."

"You like thrillers?" Sky asked. "I learn something new about you every day."

"I like lots of books. Thrillers, poetry, even cookbooks. I make a killer souffle."

Tony winced. "Dude, you shouldn't admit that."

"Looks like someone's got mail." Sawyer pointed down the street to the mail truck pulling up in front of Amy and Tony's cottage.

"Again?" Amy looked up at Tony. "Did you order anything?"

Tony shook his head. "I'll go see what's up."

Everyone except Bella watched the mailman pull a hand truck loaded with pink boxes up the center of the gravel road. Sky couldn't hear what they were saying, but Tony pointed to Theresa's house and then joined them on the deck again.

"He must have had seven boxes from Eve's Adult Playhouse for Theresa with our address," Tony said with a wrinkled brow. "What's up with that?"

They all looked at Bella, who held up her hands in surrender. "What?" She pushed to her feet and hurried from the deck toward the quad.

"Wait for us!" Jenna hollered as she and Amy went after her.

"Christ, this can't be good." Tony went after them.

"Where are they going?" Sawyer asked.

"Every summer Bella pranks Theresa, the property manager. Last summer she changed all the pictures in Theresa's house to pictures of Bradley Cooper and had one of Caden's police officer friends pretend that they'd had a complaint about stalking."

"Are you serious?" Sawyer laughed.

"Yes. Then Theresa brought Bradley Cooper-the real Bradley Cooper-to their wedding! It's really funny, but I'm sure at some point Theresa's not going to be so cool about it."

"Do you want to go with them?" Sawyer asked.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. "Nope. I'd rather stay right here. How about you? Do you need to leave for the club?"

"I told Roach last night I'd be late. We're meeting at ten." He eyed the basket on the table. "Were you thinking of getting another tattoo?"

Sky's smile faltered. "Actually, I wanted to show you these." She pulled the basket closer, and she rose to her feet and moved toward the chair beside him.

He touched her hips and said, "Stay with me. I'm already going to miss you when we're apart today. Let me feel you close for a little while longer."

She sank down to his lap. "Okay." She tucked her hair behind her ear and began taking the papers out of the basket. "I wanted you to see these."

"The tattoos you've done?" He sat up and looked over the papers she was laying out before them. His gut clenched as he read each one. Fire in my belly, you in my soul. Wandering through life, wanting, waiting, reaching for more. Every word made the hair on the back of his neck p.r.i.c.kle.

"Where did you say you got these?" The accusatory sound of his voice surprised him and was obviously not lost on Sky, who furrowed her brow.

"From customers."

"Because they touched you," he said more to himself than to her, remembering her words.

"Yes. Exactly. Why do you sound upset?" She searched his eyes, and he wondered if she could see the anger he felt simmering inside him.

"Because, Sky. These are my words. All of them." He unfurled a napkin and read a pa.s.sage. How can I move forward when you're slipping away?

"Then you are the P-town poet? But you said you weren't."

"P-town poet? Is this what you meant? These?" He lifted her to her feet and paced the deck. "I don't understand how you could have gotten those."

"I didn't get them." She looked at the papers littering the table. "Sawyer, I told you. Customers came in with these-these papers and napkins and pieces of receipts-and asked me to tattoo this stuff for them. I still don't understand. If you're the P-town poet, why are you denying it? These are lovely. They're really heartfelt and-"

"Sky, I don't know anything about a P-town poet. These are my words from my songs. This is my handwriting." He picked up a handful of papers and sifted through them. "You're telling me that there are people walking around with verses of my songs tattooed on them?"

"One for each paper you see there, yes." She sank down to a chair. "You know the night we first saw each other at the Governor Bradford's?"

"Of course." He sat beside her, feeling like he was in the Twilight Zone.

She picked up a napkin and handed it to him. "One of the waitresses brought this in yesterday."

He read the words. "I must have left it behind. After I saw you I began writing the song at the bar. All I had to write on was a stack of napkins. I guess I do that a lot, write on sc.r.a.ps of paper and napkins. I never think twice about leaving a crumpled-up napkin with the trash from my meal. That night, I wrote and rewrote the verses until they felt right, and I thought I took all of the napkins with me when I left, but obviously not." The idea that other people had seen his writing made him feel exposed, violated. He'd have to be more careful.

She placed her hand over his and smiled warmly. "Maybe when you're writing songs, you get so caught up that you lose track of some of your notes?"

"Yeah, I guess. I can't believe someone would pick up my stuff. I mean, it was on a napkin. Who would do that?"

"Someone who recognized the beauty of your words." She opened the napkin and read the pa.s.sage aloud. "I'll take it all. Hear it through. Wrestle your demons to remain beside you. Those are the words you said to me after we made love the first time. You said, Lay your head on my shoulder, your heart next to mine."

Anger curled up inside him. "Even though I choose to occasionally sing the songs I write, that's my choice. I don't like knowing that strangers find my notes and hang on to them." He looked at Sky, and it sank in that she'd been keeping his words, his songs, and that tugged at all of him, pushing the anger to the side, making room for love.

"Come here, sweetheart." He pulled her onto his lap again and pressed his lips to hers. "That's part of the song I wrote for you the first night I saw you."

He sang to her in a soft voice, every word laden with emotion.

"I saw it in your eyes.

Wounded, hiding, somewhere deep.

Tell me, lovely, do you cry when you sleep?"

Her lips drew down, and a lock of hair fell in front of her eyes. He tucked it behind her ear and began singing again.

"Crying out in your movements.

Graceful, longing, hanging by a thread.

The longing I see.

Set it free, lovely. Come to me.

Lay your head on my shoulder.

Your heart next to mine.

I'll take it all.

Hear it through.

Wrestle your demons To remain beside you."

"Sawyer," she whispered, her eyes warm.

"I have been drawn to you since the very first time I saw you, Sky. With an intensity that I've never felt before."

Her brow wrinkled with confusion. "But...the longing you see? You saw that in such a brief time?"

"You have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen, but it wasn't just your eyes, Sky. You had this aura around you. Everything about you spoke to me. I can't explain it."

"I was longing for something." She lowered her eyes and seemed to be thinking. "I was longing for this closeness. I must have been waiting for you all along."

Chapter Seventeen.

LATER THAT MORNING, Sawyer's eyes burned from salty droplets of sweat dripping into them. Sweat slid down his body, spraying off his arms with every punch. Each breath brought a heated grunt, stoking the fire that flamed within him. His mind ran through quick calculations, looking for an opening, watching, waiting, then making his move and slamming into Delroy's willing body. They were on their ninth round, and Sawyer was laser focused, measuring Delroy's breaths, watching his cadence as he moved around the ring, antic.i.p.ating his punches and skillfully avoiding every strike. Roach called out from the side of the ring, but today even that wasn't making it past the rush of blood in Sawyer's ears. He was training to win, his father's health care the driving force behind each hit.

When the match was over, he paced the ring, adrenaline coursing through him, his mind racing. How can I improve my power? I gotta move faster. Hit harder. Need to train to conquer tougher opponents. No one can touch me. I've got this.

He climbed from the ring and set his gloves and mouthpiece with his gear.

"That was awesome." Delroy wiped his face with a towel, still breathing hard. "You're hitting harder. I can feel it."

"Or you're getting soft," Sawyer said with a friendly shove.