Chapter 37
thirty-seven
Sawyer
When I think back on what Trouble put me through, I still want to hit him. Hell, sometimes I still do. Random shoves in the kitchen, a smack to his arm when he gets too smug—he’s lucky he’s cute enough to survive me.
But my hands? They don’t want to let go.
And my chest… that’s always full.
He’s the kind of man who sets your heart on fire, and grins while he does it. And the cruel thing is, he’s the only one who knows how to put that damn fire out. He’s heartbreak and home, all in one. But he’s all mine.
Which is why all my stuff is currently in boxes on the porch of Trouble’s house. The man pretends he’s annoyed, muttering about “women takin’ over his space,” but he keeps carrying more boxes in without being asked.
“Careful with that one,” I warn as he hauls in a box full of my books.
“What’s in here? Bricks?”
“Knowledge,” I say sweetly. “Something you clearly don’t lift often.”
He shoots me a look over his shoulder. “Keep talkin’ and you’re sleepin’ in the barn.”
Life is… good. Better than good. I’m running my real estate business out of Weston now, and the little cabin I put up on Dad’s land has turned into the second place in town for visitors to stay—booked solid for months.
Daddy’s ranch is pulling in more money than ever.
The chickens and their precious eggs are also doin’ their part.
Daddy still gives me hell for showing up every day, making him take all his vitamins. And Knox… he’s on the right path now. I think he’s learned his lesson.
“Hey,” Trouble calls from the kitchen. “You want sweet tea or lemonade?”
“Tea,” I say, glancing through the screen door. “Oh—I forgot my purse in the car.”
I head outside, sunlight warm on my shoulders, but freeze halfway down the steps.
There’s a woman standing in the drive. She looks like she’s been through something—worn clothes, tired eyes.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
Her gaze pins me. “Have you seen Danger?”
The screen door creaks behind me. “Baby, you all good?” Trouble’s voice is easy—until he sees her. The glass of sweet tea slips right out of his hand, shattering on the porch.
I glance between them. “She’s lookin’ for—”
“Danger,” he finishes for me.
“How’d you—”
He swallows, eyes still on her. “Sawyer… meet Fisher’s Mama.”