Chapter 5
BECKETT
THE HORN BLASTED out of the deep blue Range Rover idling in front of my apartment, followed by Sawyer sticking his head out the driver’s-side window and shouting, “Pick a lane, fuckwad,” at the car that’d barely missed his bumper.
I watched, amused, as he shook his head, muttering to himself while he got out of the car and popped the trunk. It wasn’t until he did a double take at me standing on the curb that he froze mid-step.
“Oh—hey. Hi. I didn’t know you were, uh, right there.”
I arched a brow. “Bad time?”
“No, course not. Perfect timing, actually, minus incompetent drivers trying to take out my back end.” He stepped up on the sidewalk and took my garment bag from me, and as I wheeled my suitcase toward his trunk, I caught a glimpse of his very round, very enticing back end.
Would’ve been a shame to take that out.
Sawyer reached for my bag, but I already had it, sliding it into the trunk alongside his.
“Incompetent, huh?” I said. “I believe the term you used was ‘fuckwad.’”
“Yeah, well, it’s a word that really should be used more often, don’t you think?
Bad drivers, rude people on the train. Ex-boyfriends.
” He laid my garment bag on top of the suitcases, hit a button to shut the trunk, and looked up at me.
There was a twinkle in his dark eyes today that hadn’t been there at our first meeting, though there was still that restless energy beneath his skin.
He’d paired navy chinos with a polo and loafers, and in the sun his hair looked several different shades of brown, lighter strands catching the light like he’d spent time outside lately.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, giving me one last out.
I’d asked myself what the hell I thought I was doing all weekend, but the truth was, it felt like the right thing to do. I couldn’t explain it, other than I wanted to, I had the time off before the busy work season began, and I knew I could help Sawyer through whatever was thrown at him this week.
Jesus, that made it seem like I had some sort of savior complex.
“I’m in,” I said.
He nodded once. “Fantastic. Let’s get on the road before you change your mind.”
The interior of Sawyer’s car smelled just like him, and I took in a deep breath and let the delicious scent fill my lungs and settle in my chest. Clean and warm, like the man himself.
This week wasn’t going to be a hardship. Not at all.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Keeping things professional might get a little tricky, and there was still a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind for letting Sawyer believe I was the man he thought I was.
But I’d seen that guy, and I had a hard time believing he could take care of Sawyer in the way he needed.
Traffic in the city was heavy but moving steadily, and I stayed quiet, giving him space to focus on steering clear of all the “fuckwad drivers” while watching the city pass by. It wasn’t until we got on 17 North that Sawyer flipped on the radio.
“So what do you like to listen to?” he asked.
But it wasn’t that question that caught my attention—it was the one he was asking on the radio.
“…if you’re still refreshing his Instagram at midnight hoping he’ll suddenly realize he made a mistake—don’t.
Block him and go touch grass. And in case you missed it, you’re listening to Sawyer Montgomery on WZNY, where the advice is questionable, the music is petty, and only those holding a grudge are welcome—”
He clicked the radio off fast, his body tensing as silence descended.
“Oh my God.” Sawyer dragged a hand over his face, heat creeping into his cheeks. “That did not just happen.”
I leaned over and gently pulled his hand away, and when he glanced over at me, I bit back a smile. “That you?”
“No. No, that was…someone else. A different Sawyer. A distant relative, maybe.”
“Sounded like you.”
He exhaled, and it came out like a groan. “Okay, fine. Yes, that’s me, but in my defense, it’s been a rough few weeks.”
“Understandable.” I paused, then added, “I knew you sounded familiar.”
His head snapped toward me. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“I was waiting for you to divulge that information.”
He stared at me for a second, then shook his head, a sheepish smile breaking through. “Wow. So not only did I hire a fake boyfriend, I hired one who’s heard me give terrible love advice to half of New York.”
“Not terrible, just…direct.”
“That’s incredibly generous of you.”
“Yes, it is.”
He let out a loud laugh, hit the cruise control, and settled back in his seat. “I think you owe me one embarrassing story for that.”
“What makes you think I have one?”
“Good point. I’ll take an extremely personal one, then.”
“I don’t do extremely personal on request.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I dunno,” he said, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “I feel like I’ve really opened up here, and you’ve given me nothing.”
“What do you want to know?”
Sawyer pursed his lips, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “If it’s not too personal, I guess I’m curious how you got into this. What did you do before you were a…”
“An escort?”
“Right.”
I let the question simmer for a second, wondering how I should answer. I didn’t want to lie to Sawyer—other than the obvious—and that had me wanting to give him the truth…even if I fudged the timeline a bit.
“I worked with athletes,” I said. “Kept them in one piece. Fixed them when they weren’t.”
His brows lifted. “Like…a trainer?”
“Sports trainer and physical therapist.”
“That explains a lot.” He nodded like he’d just solved something.
“Does it?”
“Yeah. You seem to know how to calm me down just by touching me, so that tracks.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Touch me whenever you like. I mean, when you think I need it.”
Good to know. “I’ll do that.”
Sawyer swallowed and waved his hand. “And you’ve also got that whole ‘calm under pressure, don’t panic, everything’s fine’ thing going on too.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“Oh.” He glanced over at me and grinned. “Like me, huh? Hot mess express.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Nah, I’m fully aware I can be an emotional wreck at the worst of times. I’ll own it. And you clearly already know, since you’re a fan of my show.”
I started to respond to that, but he held up his hand.
“Don’t deny it and break my heart, just let me pretend it’s true.”
“Huge fan. Never miss a show,” I teased.
“Shit, that might be more terrifying,” he said. “Let’s go back to you. You used to fix people.”
“Well, helped them do it, but yes.”
“That’s actually kind of perfect, huh? Makes sense you’d go from that to…to…”
“Escorting.”
“Right, right.”
It was amusing that he couldn’t seem to say the word, given the circumstances. Then again, I wasn’t really an escort, but “stranger who was in the right place at the right time but happened to be the wrong guy” didn’t really have the same ring to it.
“Why don’t you tell me about what I’ll be walking into?” I said. “Tell me about your family.”
“Smart, yes,” he said, shooting me a smile.
“Well, this whole week is centered around my moms. Mom and Mama, but they’ll want you to call them Catherine and Lily.
Mom runs a publishing company and Mama’s the artistic director for a theater here in the city, and both of my brothers followed in their footsteps, which means, of course, I’m the odd man out. ”
“Middle child?”
“How did you know?”
I shook my head, not wanting to dive into the middle-child syndrome my sister swore was a real thing. “You mentioned this was a wedding? Or anniversary?”
“Both, actually. They never had a big wedding, since it wasn’t legal until a few years ago, and even then it was just a quick courthouse thing.
Not really the romantic day Mama always wanted.
They’ve always talked about doing something special eventually, and I guess thirty-five was the magic number. ”
I nodded, filing all that away. “Why the Catskills? Is that where they met?”
“No, but good question. I’m not sure why they chose it other than the resort is big enough for all the guests, and it’ll be nice with the leaves changing color. Have you ever been?”
“Can’t say I have. What about your brothers? You have…?”
“Two. Hudson and Rome.”
Something niggled the back of my mind, and I frowned. “Your last name is Montgomery? Your brother is Rome Montgomery? Like, the actor?”
Sawyer nodded proudly. “He’s the youngest, but just a warning: he’ll absolutely flirt with you. He flirts with everyone, but he’s harmless. Mostly.”
“Noted,” I said, a little blown away at how casually Sawyer talked about his little brother the movie star.
“Hudson’s the oldest,” he continued. “He works with Mom as the CEO of Montgomery Publishing, and he’s absolutely as buttoned up as he looks.
As a matter of fact, don’t be surprised if he wears a suit the whole weekend.
With any luck, Drew did the packing—oh shit, right, there’s also Drew, Hudson’s boyfriend.
” He gave me a sideways glance. “They hated each other up until a few weeks ago, but they’ve been joined at the hip since the hurricane, so I guess it’s official. ”
I ran through all the names, committing them to memory. There was just one other little detail I needed to know for now.
“And the ex?” I said.
“Peter.” Sawyer blew out a long breath. “I keep hoping he won’t show up, but if he does…at least you’ll be there.”
“Yes. I will.”
He nodded. “Thank you for this, Beckett. Really. I can’t imagine going up there alone and…”
He didn’t finish that sentence, but he didn’t need to. I could see how hard this was for him, and I was just glad this man—this stranger, really—wouldn’t have to face this by himself.
I wanted to ask more. Get all the details about who Peter was, how long they were together, and what happened in the end. But Sawyer would open up when he was ready, and right now was obviously not the moment, not when his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
I had a feeling the closer we got to our destination, the more he’d begin to tense, and I wanted his mind off that as much as possible. So I leaned forward, flicking on the radio again.
“Why don’t you give me my own private radio show?” I said, shooting him a wink. “No callers. No exes. No need to spiral for my entertainment.”
Sawyer laughed softly, glancing in the side mirror before switching lanes. “Careful, Beckett. You might regret that.”