11. Sawyer
SAWYER
I kept my distance from Hallie for the rest of the day because one single moment had derailed everything I’d hoped to say as I drove home from seeing Walker.
She’d been sunbathing and I’d let my gaze trail down her body, unabashedly appreciating how sexy she looked.
But I’d snapped when I’d seen her top undone. The thought of someone stumbling into the yard and finding her was ridiculous, but the flash fire of jealousy had been so potent I could almost taste it.
I had no claim to her, yet I wanted to strip her down and fuck her senseless right there in broad daylight for everyone to see.
So everyone would know she’s mine.
That primal urge had been a gut check, and I’d fisted my hands to keep from doing something we couldn’t take back. She deserved more than me flying off the handle, and I hadn’t been capable of rational thought.
Thunder sounds off in the distance as I push my bedroom door open and step into the hall, resolved to talk to her—to have the conversation we both deserve. But when I pass her room, it’s empty, and the cat is nowhere in sight.
We need to put a bell on the damn thing.
Moving toward the stairs, I stop on the landing, the sound of her laugh mixing with the rain drawing me to the window overlooking the backyard.
And there she is.
Water comes down in sheets from the sky, the wind whipping it sideways as she dances barefoot in the grass, spinning in a circle like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it is for her—so carefree, not worried about the fact that her clothes are stuck to her and her hair is plastered against her face, or the way muddy water she insists on splashing in dots her skin and clothes.
She’s not doing anything wrong.
Nothing at all.
But I can’t help the frustration that’s starting to boil inside me, the feelings that have been simmering since Hallie crash-landed in my life.
Since I let her into my life.
I shouldn’t want her—she’s my ex-girlfriend’s sister—her much younger sister. Although, I can’t even use that last part as an excuse anymore. I hadn’t looked at Hallie when she’d been eighteen, but that had been a lifetime ago.
And she sure as hell isn’t eighteen anymore.
No, she’s accomplished and brilliant, sexy as hell, and damn near driving me out of my mind.
And my heart only beats faster as my annoyance grows—at her eating processed foods instead of taking care of her health even though she literally works in healthcare, at her inability to fill her gas tank before the light comes on because she thinks it’s a personal challenge, or at the god damn cat running around my house.
Because I couldn’t say no to her.
And that pisses me off.
Because she’s not here for me. She’s temporary, and she’s making me feel things that I haven’t in years.
Feelings I sure as hell don’t want to examine.
But I can’t stop because she’s everywhere and when she leaves I’ll feel the loss on a cellular level—my body, heart, and home never quite the same without her here.
I’m halfway down the stairs before I even realize I’m moving, unable to stop the torrent of emotion coursing through my veins as I rip the back door open and step out onto the porch.
My chest heaves as I watch her, my hands clenching and unclenching as she turns to look at me, her smile wide and carefree.
“Come dance with me!” she calls, spinning and holding her hands out to me, as if we weren’t in the same spot earlier facing off.
“What the hell are you doing?” I bark, stomping down the steps, my feet sinking into the wet grass, my clothes soaked in an instant.
“Dancing. You should try it. Might make you feel better,” she taunts, her lips pulling up into a sly grin.
“I don’t want to dance.”
“Then go back inside.”
“Hallie…” Her name is a warning because I don’t want to fight with her. I just can’t seem to stop myself.
“Go inside, Sawyer. It’s not like you’re going to kiss me anyway.”
What the hell did she just say?
Her eyes sparkle with challenge as she throws her hands over her head and spins around, her hips swaying like they had earlier when she walked away from me.
Am I really gonna let her walk away from me again?
I had a plan.
Plan went to shit.
Made a new plan.
See above.
“Fuck it.”
Reaching out, I grab her wrist and tug hard enough that she’s off-balance as she crashes into me, her chest pressed against mine, and I don’t wait.
Hand to the small of her back, I hold her as I slant my mouth over hers, pushing my tongue between her lips, and I don’t stop, not until she’s panting and breathless and begging for more.