Chapter 16
sixteen
Sawyer
I’m in Trouble’s truck when the neon glow of the small-town fair spills into view, ferris wheel lights spinning slow and steady against the night sky. Country music drifts faintly across the gravel lot, mingled with laughter and the smell of fried everything.
I arch a brow at him. “This is where you take girls to sweep them off their feet?”
“Just wait,” he drawls, killing the engine.
I reach for the handle, but his voice cuts me off. “Nope. Date starts now. You let me get that.”
He hops out before I can argue, rounding the truck with that cocky, easy stride. When he opens the door, I give him my hand, feeling the rough calluses against my palm as he helps me down. A grin tugs at my lips despite myself. “Starting off strong.”
I make myself relax, leaning into the moment. It’s not like it means anything to him. He’s probably just doing this to prove some point—or worse, because he felt sorry for me after catching me crying. Either way… what could it hurt?
“Stick with me. I don’t start what I can’t finish,” he says, tipping his hat like he’s escorting me into a ballroom instead of a dusty parking lot.
“So where to, cowboy?” I ask.
“Follow me.”
I trail after him as he leads the way, then he stops at one of those rigged carnival games—the kind where rows of lopsided stuffed animals hang like trophies. Trouble leans against the booth, casual as ever. “First, you pick what you want. Then I get it for you.”
I snort. “Everyone knows these games are a scam.”
He smirks. “Girl, don’t you know who I am by now? I make things happen.”
“I sorta know about you.” I tip my head, letting the tease curl off my tongue. “Mostly just what your brothers say—that Danger calls the shots, and you just follow his orders.”
For a split second, his swagger slips. “What? They said that?”
I burst out laughing. “No! But God, your face—all the color, gone! Like somebody just stole your favorite horse. Do it again.”
Trouble shakes his head, but laughter rumbles out of him, low and genuine. “Alright, you got me. Now quit distractin’ me and pick somethin’ out.”
I scan the wall of stuffed animals, pretending to deliberate. “Fine. That sweet little pink horse. Think you can handle that, cowboy?”
“Consider it yours, butter knife girl.”
I laugh. “I have never seen anyone actually win one of these.”
“It’s all about the illusion,” he says, rolling the baseball in his hand like he’s studying it. “You don’t aim for dead center—that’s where they want you to aim. You hit the edge, knock the balance out. Then it all comes down.”
And damn if he doesn’t prove it. First throw, the bottles crash to the ground.
The carnie blinks like he just witnessed a crime. Trouble turns back to me, that slow, self-satisfied grin spreading across his face before he tells the man which prize he wants.
He hands me the pink horse, and I squeeze it, trying not to let the grin slip too much. Okay… he’s smarter than he looks, and somehow he makes this look effortless. And really, no one should be able to look that good throwing a baseball—but somehow, he does.
He flashes that grin again. “Alright… you ready for my favorite part?”
“Let’s hear it,” I tease, already curious.
“The food,” he says, simply. “Go sit your pretty self down at that picnic table over there. I’ll grab it.”
“I can help you carry it.”
He leans in just enough to make his voice heard, yet still playful. “Sit. Now.”
I roll my eyes but smile. “Fine.” I make my way to the table and settle onto the bench. The breeze stirs my hair as the laughter and music from the fair surrounds me. People move past, happy and carefree. It’s almost peaceful. More peaceful than what I’m used to in Chicago.
I hear it before I see him—a slow, gravelly voice takes me by surprise. "This seat taken?"
I playfully roll my eyes—basically a reflex at this point. He’s probably used to it. That cocky grin of his doesn’t offend me like it usually does. Neither do those knowing eyes that always look like they’re two seconds away from calling me out.
“Actually… yes,” I lie effortlessly. “It is.”
He sets the food down, and my eyes widen.
Plate after plate, he has a stack of BBQ, golden corn dogs, crispy fries, a funnel cake dusted in sugar, and some fried Twinkie-looking thing I don’t even have words for.
And somehow, his gaze never leaves mine.
That slow, just-him smile—dangerous in its calm.
“Taken by who?” he asks, head tilted just enough to be cocky, every sharp angle of his face daring me to say the wrong name.
“Chase,” I say, plucking a name straight out of my ass. “Very… protective.”
His smile twitches, darkening. “Chase,” he echoes, like it offends him just to say it. “Let me guess—he opens doors, asks permission to kiss you on the cheek, and is way too fucking respectful.”
“And that’s a problem?” I lift my chin, trying not to notice the way his presence makes my pulse skip.
“Guess not,” he leans in, slow and unapologetic. The scent of his cologne hits me first—rich, reckless, and entirely too good. “If you like your men soft and dull.”
I glance at the mountain of food in front of me again. “You didn’t have to get all this, you know…”
He tips his hat, grinning wider. “Part of the date, little lady. You get a bite of everything.”
I blink at him. Somehow, in the chaos of fried food and funnel cake sugar, I realize… he’s actually nailing this. I’m having a lot more fun with him than I expected. The man is smooth, I’ll give him that, even if he irritates me to no end.
"Okay, this barbeque is better than I expected," I say, taking another bite. The taste of the tangy sauce blends perfectly with the tender meat, and it’s good—almost good enough to distract me from the man beside me.
His gaze drops to my fingers, glistening with sauce, and I glance around for a napkin.
"You always this much of a mess, or is that just an effect I have on you?" he asks, voice low and lazy, like he’s got plenty of time to get under my skin.
Before I can shoot back a retort—or find a napkin—he snatches my hand in his. Then, without breaking eye contact, he brings my finger to his mouth. His lips wrap around it slowly, tongue trailing along, licking the sauce like every last drop is worth savoring.
My breath catches—sharp and involuntary.
His eyes are still locked on mine, big and golden and brimming with mischief.
It feels like there’s this inexplicable connection forming between us despite my best efforts to be cautious.
The way his mouth lingers on my skin, the slight drag of his teeth as he pulls away, it's all too much. I’m all too aware of his heat, the sheer presence that Trouble commands without even trying.
Trouble just leans back in his seat, all lazy confidence and sin in denim, a half-smirk toying with his mouth. “You can’t waste the sauce.”
I force words out before I combust. “Maybe try a napkin next time?” My voice comes out steady, but only because I’m hanging on for dear life by the thinnest thread. Inside, every nerve is lighting up—embarrassment, confusion…and something a whole lot more dangerous.
His gaze dips to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I scoff, because if I don’t joke, I’ll start thinking about the heat still lingering on my finger. “You’re insufferable.”
He smiles. He already knows what he’s doing to me. It’s that cocky, ruinous grin that probably gets him out of felony-level trouble. It should piss me off. It does. But it also makes my stomach drop and my pulse trip, though I will absolutely refuse to admit it. Not to him. Not even to myself.
"And yet, here you are," he drawls, "still sitting next to me."
"Only thing keeping me here is this barbeque."
"Sure, that’s it."
I force a nonchalant shrug, but my hands betray me, shaking ever so slightly as I reach for my last bite.
“And now… this next part? It’s gonna be your favorite.”
“Oh really?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Better than the barbeque. What is it?”
He tilts his chin toward the glowing Ferris wheel. “That.”
I blink. “That’s the big finale?”
“That Ferris wheel right there? It’s magic.”
He stands, holding out a hand. “Let me show you.”
A guy at the gate opens it for us. Trouble shakes his hand like he owns the place. “You got me, Arlo?”
Arlo grins. “For you? Always.”
We take our seats, the world slipping away as the ride starts to lift.
When Arlo changes the music, the carnival tunes are replaced by something soft and romantic that makes my chest squeeze in the best way.
Trouble slides his arm around me, and those evil little butterflies in my stomach start flapping like they’ve gone mad.
“So… is this where you make the big move?” I tease, looking up at him and those long lashes of his.
“I never said I’d done this date before. Just that I know how to do them right. I know Arlo from working on the farm. He helps out at the fair every summer. Texted him while we were sittin’ over there.”
I glance down at the fair lights twinkling far below. He was right… there's something magical about being up here. My eyes flick to him. “Okay. Maybe this isn’t so bad.”
“And I’m not so bad either, huh?” he asks, voice teasing.
“Guess not,” I murmur, smiling—but I square my shoulders. “But don’t for a second think I’m leaning in for a kiss again. Last time was a mistake. Can’t believe I’m even talking about it right now.”
His expression changes, serious but gentle. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
I blink. “It wasn’t?”
“Sawyer… you think I didn’t wanna kiss you that day?” His voice is low, like it’s dragged right out of him. “I’ve wanted a whole lot more than a kiss from you since the second you smart-mouthed me in that trailer. But you’re my best friend’s sister. Can't do any of that."
“So, you can take me on a date, but you can’t kiss me?” I say, curiously.