7. Sawyer
SAWYER
A fter the meal she considered breakfast, Hallie went to see her parents. It gave me some much-needed time to decompress because every little thing she does sends my body into overdrive. It’s maddening.
And exhausting.
Especially the part where I’ve realized I love cooking for someone else and I’m not sure if it’s just another person or if it’s her.
Regardless, I’d spent more time than usual going through recipes to prep for this week.
SAWYER: I made dinner—and little honey-lemon tarts for dessert
SAWYER: should I wait?
I stare at the screen for only a second before hitting send and chastising myself for making it into something it’s not.
HALLIE: Almost home!
HALLIE: Can I eat the tart first?
SAWYER: As long you thank the bees
HALLIE: I’ll think about it
HALLIE: But also I have a surprise
HALLIE: Remember all the nice things you’ve said about me
SAWYER: You’ve only been gone a few hours
HALLIE: Yes, but this was important and I have a feeling you’re going to love it!!!
SAWYER: One more exclamation point and I’m changing the locks
She doesn’t answer, but I only have to wait another five minutes before headlights appear in the driveway.
I’m both intrigued and mildly terrified as she pushes her car door open and climbs out, her purse draped across her cropped maroon T-shirt. The strip of skin between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her jean shorts is almost enough to distract me from what she’s got in her hands.
Almost.
And no.
Absolutely not.
“Look at her!” she coos, holding up a tuft of black fur for me to see.
“Isn’t she the cutest?” She rubs the cat’s nose with hers, the damn thing small enough to fit in my palm.
“I couldn’t just leave her! She was all alone, Sawyer.
She was walking on the side of the road and I promise I looked for her mama but there was no one around. ”
The puff of black fur looks at me, its big blue eyes a stark contrast to its fur.
But it doesn’t matter.
I don’t do cats.
“She’s not staying,” I tell her firmly, my body instantly reacting to the way her lip juts out and her eyes widen, the look completely over-the-top and so fucking adorable I’m hard in an instant.
Fuck.
“Please? She’ll stay in my room. I’d take her to my parents but I don’t want her to get scared with all the construction.” She pouts, and all I can think about is how her lips would look wrapped around my dick, all that curly dark hair falling chaotically around her shoulders.
Fuck.
“No.”
“Pretty please?” she whines, thrusting the furball at me until I’m forced to accept the wriggling creature, but instead of holding it, I drop it into the front pocket of my shirt. It fits easily and I ignore how adorable it looks.
And that it immediately snuggles in against my chest.
And how much I actually like the damn thing already.
“We don’t need a cat.”
“But look at it!” she gushes and I fight back the urge to roll my eyes. “You have a kitten in your pocket.”
“You’re confusing the fact that I have one with wanting one.”
“I think you’re lying.”
“I’m not. And I’m not so much of an idiot that I don’t realize she’s staying.”
“Have you always been this much of a pushover?”
Apparently with you, yes.
I snort. “It’s not a hill I’m willin’ to die on, but I will die on the one that says I get all the veto power if I don’t like the name.”
“Then you name her.”
“Let’s go eat before you make me ditch the beer for whiskey again.”
“That seems to be a pretty common threat around here.”
“Inside.”
With a mock salute, she hustles onto the porch and into the house, and all I can do is follow her, half-hard and wishing I could spank the hell out of her for driving me to distraction.
Because Hallie McKinley has only been here a week and she’s already making waves I can’t ignore.