3. Sawyer
SAWYER
My head pounds violently, as though someone is drilling an icepick into the side of it. The scent of sandalwood and spice surrounds me, a gentle comfort in my agony. Something wet brushes my cheek, and I force my eyes open.
“Thunder?”
The Australian shepherd mix snuggles in closer against me, licking my cheeks eagerly. Despite how absolutely fucking terrible I feel, I can’t help but giggle. I wrap my arms around him and hug him close.
“I had the weirdest dream last night. Wait, how are you here?”
A loud boom of thunder shakes the house, and Thunder whimpers. I try to hold him close, but it’s no use. The pup wriggles out of my arms and dives under the bed.
“Some things never change, huh boy?”
I rub the sleep out of my eyes, regretting every single sip of that potent blue tropical drink from last night.
Vowing as I have so many times before to never drink again.
But the older I get, the more I mean it.
I feel like fucking death warmed over. I know Mel had good intentions, but damn that drink was lethal.
It hurts to turn my head against the pillow, but I’m thankful that when I put forth the effort, I discover a glass of water and a couple of painkillers beside it.
I swallow them immediately and empty the glass.
Something feels odd about where I am, but I’m too miserable to try to piece it together. Rain patters heavily against the metal roof, and I allow my eyes to drift closed as another rumble of thunder sounds.
“I know you’re awake, Sunshine.”
My entire body stiffens in shock at the sound of that voice. Am I so damn hungover that I’m hallucinating? Maybe I got alcohol poisoning, and I’m really at the hospital having my stomach flushed. Because there is no way I should be hearing Boone Montgomery’s voice outside of some loopy ass dream.
“I want to sleep,” I grumble.
“You need to eat something,” Boone insists.
“I need a skull transplant.”
“Maybe Mel can help you out with one when she gets here,” Boonie adds.
Okay, not dreaming.
“Why am I here?”
“Because you called me.”
“I definitely did not.” I’ve done some stupid things under the influence of fruity cocktails. But drunk dialing Boone has never been one of them.
“Check your phone if you don’t believe me,” he dares.
I force my eyes open again, and sure enough, Boone Montgomery is standing there in the delicious flesh, propped against the doorway of his bedroom.
The unfairly sexy cowboy is wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that should be fucking illegal.
It doesn’t matter that I have the headache from hell’s inner circle or that I might retch again.
My nipples pebble at the sight of the shirtless man.
“Mel’s coming to get me?” I ask, reaching for my phone on the nightstand.
“Any time now. But I promised her I’d feed you first.”
“Why didn’t I go to Mel’s last night?” I mumble.
“Because Abby has the flu.”
I snap my attention to Boone. “How do you know that?”
“Maybe you could stop being all fucking suspicious and tell me how you want your eggs. I’d say sunny side up, but you’re kind of bitchy this morning.”
Despite the jab, my heart skips a beat. He remembers .
“Have any avocado toast?” I know the question will annoy him, so I ask it extra sweetly.
“Fuck, you really have turned into one of those city girls.” He scrubs a hand over his face as he pushes off the doorframe. “There’s a toothbrush by the sink for you. Use it. Your breath smells like vomit.” Then, he disappears down the hall.
Thunder pokes his head out from beneath the bed, looking up at me. But before I can invite him back up, another boom of thunder erupts, and he slinks back into hiding. Poor guy. Boone named him when he was a puppy. Before either of us realized he’d be terrified of storms.
Thunder was supposed to be our dog.
Guilt twists my unsettled stomach into a bigger knot than it was already in.
I hadn’t just run away from Boone. I’d run away from Thunder.
And Millie. And all the other animals that were going to be ours .
And for what? For some empty corporate job that was supposed to lead to a huge paycheck one day?
There was less than a hundred dollars in my bank account.
I’d been passed over on a promotion I’d been promised twice now by ass-kissing men who knew how to schmooze up to the boss, and their workloads dumped on me for no extra pay.
I had no friends in Dallas. Not real ones.
My roommate hated me, and there was a chance she was selling some of my shit while I was out of town.
But even if my life had been the sparkling picture of exciting I’d hoped, I would still know deep in my gut that leaving had been the worst mistake I’d ever made.
“Will you forgive me, Thunder?”
My phone chimes, and I unlock it to find a slew of notifications, mostly from Mel checking in on me. Another text announces she’s on her way to pick me up, but that I might not want to get too close in case she’s contagious.
It’s the last text, sent thirty minutes ago, that jumps out the loudest.
Mel: Don’t you dare fucking sleep with him, Sawyer.
The god-awful taste in my throat suggests I’d puked at some point last night. Not exactly seduction at its finest. Though I’d bet my last hundred bucks that Boone stayed with me and held back my hair while I retched. I never deserved him .
Sawyer: Just get here already.
Mel: Um, about that…