Chapter 3
Chapter Three
LIV
T he small bell over the entry door chimes, and I perk up. My face falls when I see it’s Sawyer strolling in.
“You’re hard on a man’s ego, Liv,” Sawyer laughs. I don’t think I or anyone could dent Sawyer’s ego.
Girls from all around town are constantly chasing the man. I get it. He’s charming, down-to-earth, and handsome in a classic kind of way. He’s one of the good ones, and thankfully not banging every girl in town. Although it’s not for their lack of trying.
I’ve managed to stay out of the Sawyer fan club. He’s not hairy or growly enough for me. I suppose we all have our types, though mine is central to one man.
“I think your ego is fine.” Too bad mine isn’t doing so great.
Bored after making my TikToks this morning, I hopped over to do some busy work, thinking it would make the time pass by quicker. It did, but it was also rather depressing. Not for the shop as a whole but my own shortcomings. Numbers don’t lie. Unless I’m standing on a scale, in which case those numbers are bullshit and mean nothing.
The truth is, I’ve spent more money on the supplies I need to make my creations than I’ve made. The store is doing well, but my projects are costing us money at this point. It makes me wonder if I should stop. The thought makes my heart heavy because I enjoy making them.
"Is your sister here?" Sawyer asks, running his hand along one of the new benches Lane put out here to showcase our stuff.
"You really do want someone to hurt that ego of yours, don't you?" I laugh.
Sawyer is always poking at her, but my sister doesn’t pull any punches. She might be the quiet type, but when she lets loose, everyone better stand back. Lane can land a verbal blow if needed.
“It’s good for me.” He winks, making me laugh. “So?”
“She popped out, but—” I stop talking when the bell rings again, and my sister comes through the door.
“Why are the What’s the Stitch ladies hovering out”—Lane stops when she catches sight of Sawyer—“side,” she finishes and rolls her eyes. “Oh, that’s why.”
What the Stitch is a group of ladies who get together and sew. At least that’s their cover for what they do. They’ve always got needles and supplies, but I’ve never seen so much as a doily come to full creation.
Obviously, I think they are a group of well-trained spies sent from the government that surreptitiously eavesdrop on us to get the best gossip. I’ve tried to wiggle my way into the group, but no luck yet. Oh, they’ll chat you up to get the tea, but you’re not getting into the inner circle.
"Do you always have a fan crew?" Lane sets her bag down on the counter next to me, and I peek inside. Not surprisingly, there isn't anything tasty to eat in there. Lane is one of those healthy dieters. Although she would call it a lifestyle.
One I sure as heck don't understand because I eat terribly and we're still built the same. Lane's food is always plain and kinda sad. I’d be depressed if that was all I ate. I wonder if I should sneak candy into her food like parents sneak in vegetables. How do you slip a Skittle into something?
“I can’t help how adored I am.” Sawyer places his hand over his heart. “This is a cross I must bear.”
“They all have bets on who’s going to snag you up at the auction. And if you’re going to fall on your ass.”
“It is a rather nice one, though. Don’t you think?” He turns to give us a side view while he looks back at it.
“I have heard them call it Cottonwood’s Ass,” I tell my sister. The What the Stitch ladies can be on the dirty side when it comes to sexual innuendos.
“Cottonwood’s Ass? What does that even mean?” Lane rolls her eyes again. It’s a side effect of being near Sawyer.
“You know, like Captain America has America’s ass.” The Captain’s ass isn’t bad, but Julius’s is better. I’m keeping that to myself because I don’t need everyone else paying attention to it.
“The Captain does have a good ass,” Lane says with a smirk.
And there it is, my sister hitting Sawyer where it hurts.
“What?” All the teasing leaves Sawyer. “You think his ass is nice?”
“I said good,” Lane is quick to correct him, and Sawyer folds his arms over his chest, appearing annoyed. “I need to get to work.” She grabs her bag off the counter.
“No food for me?” I ask.
“You’re always welcome to my food.” Lane starts to pull it out of her bag, but I stop her.
“I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” Lane heads toward the back but pauses at the door. “See you around.”
“At the auction!” Sawyer shouts, making sure she can hear him. My sister doesn’t respond as the door to the back swings closed behind her. “She’s going, right?”
“At least to drop off the pieces she donated.”
“You don’t think she’ll stay?”
“I think you’ll be too busy to worry about my sister.” I’m not sure if she'll stay to watch or not, but I’m not about to help him out.
“I’m never too busy to irritate your sister.”
“You’re the main attraction for the auction.” Every single woman in our town, and the ones around us, will be there for the chance to have a date with Sawyer.
“Don’t remind me.” Sawyer runs his fingers through his short hair, appearing frustrated. It’s out of character for him.
“You okay?” I ask, but I miss Sawyer’s response because the bell chimes over the door and Julius walks in.
My heart jumps into my throat as his brown eyes lock with mine. It’s only for a heartbeat before he quickly glances away. Does that mean he doesn’t like the pink hair?
“See, why can’t she look at me like that?” Sawyer mutters to himself.
“What?” I ask in confusion. To be honest, I kinda forgot he was still here.
“Your whole face just lit up.”
“Shh.” I hit him, and he chuckles, sounding more like himself. “Maybe you should...ah...” I nod toward the door.
“You Thomas girls really are tough on the ego.”
“Get out,” I say, not moving my mouth. Julius glances our way, and for a fleeting second his eyes narrow.
“Fine, but—” He kisses me on the cheek, taking me by surprise. “You’ll thank me later,” Sawyer whispers. “I’ll see you, Livvy!” Sawyer says loudly before heading out the door.
Who the hell is Livvy? Never in my life has anyone called me that before.
When I turn my attention back to Julius, his eyes are on me again. Only this time he’s not glancing away, and there’s an annoyed expression on his face.
It’s the hair. He hates it.