3. Sawyer #2
After a long moment, he said, “Maybe you have the right idea. All day, every day, I’m surrounded by people who prioritize things that don’t matter instead of the things that do.
If a meeting runs late, no one cares if they miss dinner with their families.
Business always comes first.” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair.
For the first time tonight, I saw a flicker of brutal honesty as his guard fell. “I fucking hate it.”
Our conversation had taken a left turn somewhere, going far deeper than it should for two people who were never going to see each other again. But maybe that was what made it easy? There was no pressure to be anything other than what we were because we only had one night.
“If you hate it, why do you stay?” I asked, turning his question around. “Why don’t you leave?”
He shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but I have nowhere to go.
Similar to you. Hell, maybe worse even. I don’t know what “home” even feels like.
” Beckett shifted on the bench, his gaze lingering on my face.
I was so preoccupied with the slight jostle of my seat that I didn’t realize he’d reached out and brushed his fingers along the back of my hand.
“It’s not entirely true, you know. What you said earlier. ”
“What’s not?”
His expression softened as he gently intertwined our fingers. “That you don’t deserve generosity and kindness.”
Emotion clawed at my throat, and I fought to keep it down. The way he looked at me was unnerving. I couldn’t move or breathe under the weight of the moment, but I tried to play it off. “You don’t know me. I could be horrible.”
“Not possible.”
“Or a murderer.”
At that, he laughed. “Now you’re just being funny.”
I schooled my features into a scowl. “You don’t think I could kill a man?”
Beckett held up his hands in surrender. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”
“What other ways are there?”
He paused, letting his gaze rake over me momentarily before clearing his throat.
He took his time. Far longer than was acceptable to stare at someone you didn’t know, but I didn’t stop him.
I liked having his attention focused all on me.
Liked the way his throat bobbed right before he said, “You’re right.
You could definitely kill a man. I take it all back. ”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, painting my skin in a furious red blush. I didn’t know much about men or dating, but the look he gave me was unmistakable. I’d seen it a thousand times between patrons at the bar come closing time. Lust. Need. Desire. It was all there.
But why? What was going through Beckett’s mind that had him looking at me like that?
Sure, we’d flirted a bit. The hand-holding thing was surprisingly sweet from a smooth-talking man from out of town.
But that was all this was supposed to be.
Innocent flirting, maybe a kiss I’d forget to regret at the end of the night, but that was it.
Right?
Just then, a little boy ran past us, screaming about sweet treats and a stuffed alien toy.
His mother hurried behind him with a tired expression as she muttered apologies to passersby until she finally caught up with him.
Beckett and I looked at one another for only a moment before cracking a smile.
The heaviness from earlier was gone. In its place was something much more comfortable.
“I think that’s our cue,” I said, pushing to my feet. “What else is on that bucket list of yours?”
Beckett glanced around, eyes narrowing on the row of booths in the middle of the fairgrounds. “Obviously, I need to prove myself worthy by winning you the biggest stuffed animal here.”
I laughed. “All the games are rigged. It’s virtually impossible to win one of those things. Maybe set your eyes on a smaller prize.”
“You don’t think I can win?”
“I didn’t say that…”
He shook his head, pressing his lips into a tight line. “Nope. Now you’ve made it personal. Let’s go.”
Before I could stop him, Beckett grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. His stride was fast enough that I had to jog to keep up. There was a thin sheen of sweat across my forehead as we stopped in the middle of the walkway. “Pick your prize.” He gestured around. “Any prize.”
“You know you don’t have to prove anything to me, right?” I murmured, barely containing my smile when he didn’t waver. “Fine. Let me see.”
There were so many possibilities. I could make this as easy or hard on him as I wanted. It was in my nature to default to whatever caused someone the least amount of trouble, but if Beckett wanted a challenge… So be it.
“That one,” I said, pointing my finger at the monstrosity just ahead of us.
He followed my gaze before turning back to me with a raised brow. “That’s what you want?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
“It’s bigger than you are.”
Squeezing his hand, I leaned forward. “You’re right. If you think you can’t handle it—”
My words cut off as his other hand came up and gently pinched my side. “If that’s what my girl wants, that’s what she’s going to get.”
Before I could process what he’d said, I was jerked forward once again until we were standing in front of the booth. The attendant was a burly man with arms the size of tree trunks—faded tattoos disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt and peeking out from his collar.
I understood why they had him manning the sledgehammer game. It was entirely misleading. The key to winning had nothing to do with brute strength, just a perfectly balanced force. He ignored Beckett entirely and stared down at me with an appreciative smirk.
“What can I get ya, sweetheart?” he asked, sweeping an arm behind him at the prizes. “Anything catch your eye?”
Beckett stepped in front of me, intercepting the man’s stare. “I’m going to win her that one,” he said, pointing at the giant bear at the back of the booth.
The attendant looked back and laughed. “You think you can win that? Maybe you should set your sights on something a little smaller. Like this one.” He reached up and plucked a small red duck from overhead.
“This might be a little more your speed. Only cost you five tickets for one try. Think of it like a participation trophy.”