Page 29

Chapter 29

Sawyer

Sure enough, she found McCoy and Bree in the garage an hour later in deep conversation. Sawyer watched from the garage door window, one hand on the knob, one hand pressed against her chest to calm her racing heart. Bree was seated in the driver's seat of the McLaren, hands on the new steering wheel in the same spot her father had bled out.

Trepidation and … and rage flooded Sawyer. The McLaren wasn’t a leisure toy to play with. It was the last materialistic thread Sawyer had to her piece of shit husband. It was a job, nothing else, an asset bound in contract with McCoy, and that contract most certainly did not include her only living child.

Sawyer swung the door open, gripping it tightly as she raised her voice. “Bree. Get out of the car.”

The music playing in the background was loud, but Bree and McCoy both paused to look at her. “Hey.” McCoy lit up at the sight of Sawyer.

She entered the garage in her slippers, descending the steps as quickly as she dared. Her knees quaked as she marched toward them. “Bree,” she repeated in a shaky voice. She stopped several feet away, not daring to get too close to the supercar, and pointed to her daughter through the windshield. “Bree, get out of the car. Right fucking now.”

“ M-Maman ?” Bree’s eyes were as big as saucers. Her face paled, and then she scrambled to get out of the car, almost stepping on a drill in the process.

“Here,” McCoy said, holding Bree’s hand to help her around the obstacle course of various tools and car parts. They stopped in front of Sawyer, McCoy looking unsure of what she’d done wrong and Bree looking as if Sawyer had physically struck her.

“Sawyer, the dangerous part of the process is over,” McCoy said, glancing between them, “Bree wanted to—”

“Bree …” Sawyer’s voice wavered. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Go into the house, please.”

Of all the times, Bree chose this time to balk at Sawyer’s request. “Maman, I told you I was out here. What’s the problem?”

Sawyer’s lip curled before she snarled, “ Tu ne comprends pas, Bree. S'il te pla?t écoute-moi. Entre dans la maison! ”

“Okay, okay,” Bree relented, tossing McCoy an embarrassed glance before trudging inside.

“Bree is not to go near the McLaren again,” Sawyer said once she and McCoy were alone. She was shaking, and she had the strangest urge to slap McCoy for allowing this, and yet, a part of her wanted to be held, comforted. She wrapped her arms around herself so she wouldn’t accidentally reach for McCoy.

“Sawyer, what’s wrong?” McCoy asked softly, reaching out to stroke her arm. “My pops and I took the engine out. The McLaren’s not going anywhere.”

“I know that,” Sawyer said through gritted teeth. Grinding her molars down was the only thing keeping everything else at bay.

“Do you? Would you feel better if you got a closer look at it? Come, I can show you.”

“No. I know what that car is, McCoy,” Sawyer snapped, wrenching away from the younger woman’s touch.

McCoy stepped closer until their bodies were almost pressing together and tucked a lock of Sawyer’s hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to be afraid of it.”

“Afraid?” Sawyer echoed incredulously. “I’m not afraid.”

“Then what is it? Talk to me. I didn’t know Bree wasn’t allowed near it. It’s not in the contract.”

Swallowing hard, Sawyer looked away from McCoy’s concerned gaze, saying roughly, “Maybe it should be. Next time …” She cleared her throat, glancing briefly back at McCoy. “Next time my daughter wants to try her hand at mechanics, teach her on a different vehicle. Okay?”

“Of course. Anything you want,” McCoy murmured. She widened her stance, folding her arms across her chest but kept her imploring gaze on Sawyer.

Sawyer didn’t know why, but her brain chose that moment to dredge up the dream she’d had. It was unsettling to want someone as much as she wanted McCoy. She’d been force-fed religious crap for so long that she thought she should feel disgusted at the thought of McCoy lifting her up onto her kitchen island and fucking her. But she didn’t. In fact, there was only one issue with that whole fantasy. She’d given McCoy all the control.

And that just wouldn’t do.

“I want the date you promised.”

McCoy looked shocked for a second, and then she broke into the biggest grin Sawyer had ever seen, her dimples disappearing into her cheeks. Sawyer had to hold herself back from kissing her. Not yet , she thought.

McCoy, however, had no sense of self-preservation. She stood on her tiptoes, slid her hand around Sawyer’s neck, and pulled her in for a gentle yet heated lip-lock. Sawyer expected gloating, or at the very least, her latest one-liner, but McCoy surprised her once again. “Thank you, Sawyer.”

“Yes, well.” Sawyer licked her lips, savoring McCoy’s unique taste. She regretfully turned away, knowing she still needed to apologize to Bree. “Thank you for the flowers. And … the other thing.”

Though she didn’t face McCoy as she headed out of the garage, she heard the smile in her voice.

“Trust me, it’s no trouble at all.”