Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend #2) - Ivy Layne Page 0,2

I said slowly. “I was coming by to leave some cookies—Hope said I should drop them off with my card—and I couldn’t find the door and I saw him. He—”

“Slow down, Daisy. Catch your breath for a second.” His voice was low and soothing. Strong. I lay back in the grass, letting the absolute authority in his tone chase off my fears. No one was going to get through Royal. Everything was okay.

“Hope said you’d be by,” he went on. “Why were you back here? Who is this guy?”

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts together, and sat up. “I thought I should come in through the staff entrance. I was going to leave the basket so someone could deliver it to your offices before you got in, but it was dark and I realized I didn’t know exactly where the door was. I guess I was wandering a little, and then I saw that guy. Oh, God, I think he was trying to dump cockroaches into your air intake system. He was over there—”

I pointed at the spilled box on the ground by the HVAC equipment outside the building.

Royal swore under his breath. “Can you get up? Could you do me a favor?”

I nodded, still trying to get my bearings and, to be honest, a little intimidated by Royal Sawyer. As first meetings go, this wasn’t the one I would have chosen.

I was hoping he’d get my beautifully presented basket of treats along with the brochure and proposal I’d tucked into the basket and ask me to The Inn for a meeting. I would have shown up dressed like the businesswoman I was, not in a flour-streaked t-shirt with my hair in a messy poof. I definitely would not have been covered in grass stains with a rapidly swelling cheek. Damn.

We’d never officially met, but I knew who Royal was. We’d both grown up in Sawyers Bend. We knew who everybody was. That’s a small town for you. I’m Daisy Hutchins, granddaughter of Eleanor Hutchins, the owner of Sweetheart Bakery. My amazing baked goods aside, I wasn’t anyone of importance.

He was Royal Sawyer, one of the Sawyers of Sawyers Bend. As his name indicated, around here he was practically a prince. Not that he sat around polishing the crown jewels. He and his brother Tenn ran The Inn at Sawyers Bend, and given the way it had taken off in the last decade, they did a hell of a job at it.

Maybe he wasn’t actual royalty, but he was still a Sawyer. Wealthy, connected, and did I mention hot? There wasn’t a single ugly Sawyer in the whole family.

Their father had been a bastard, but a handsome one, and he’d chosen his wives—according to Grams—mainly based on looks. He hadn’t been able to hold on to any of his women for long, but they sure had made some pretty children.

Not that I spent a lot of time ogling male Sawyers. I was too busy for that.

If I did, I would have chosen Royal. Thick, wavy, dark hair he wore a little too long. Deep blue eyes. Broad shoulders with a lean, powerful build. A smile that was all dangerous charm, one he used easily and often.

I was kind of shocked he knew my name. I’ll admit I was a little lightheaded, not just from getting punched in the face but from the focus in those blue, blue eyes narrowed directly on me.

Chapter Two

Daisy

Daisy? You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, really.” I got to my feet, relieved my head stayed clear.

What a dork. There I was, sitting on my butt in the wet grass mooning over Royal Sawyer when there were more important problems at hand. Like the man in the sweatshirt and the cockroaches in that box.

“Can you grab my phone?” Royal asked, those sharp eyes locked on my face, narrowing as they took in the swelling of my cheek.

I nodded and spotted the phone strapped to his arm, the earbuds in his ears. Taking in his grass-stained running shoes and the athletic shorts currently stretched across his muscled thighs… Pay attention, Daisy. Eyes off his legs. Not easy with legs like that.

Royal must have been out for an early run, just like I’d thought the man in the sweatshirt was when I’d first seen him. I guess that explained how Royal kept that lean, strong body when he spent most of his day behind a desk.

Trying not to notice the clean, salty scent of him, I