Page 11

“You know, if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask.”

Sawyer jumps, the muscles in her shoulders rippling under the thin straps of her tank top.

I bite back a laugh, wondering what it would be like to kiss her there—in the little slope where her shoulder becomes her neck—and if her skin is as sweet as I bet it is.

Spinning around, her expression goes from surprised to horrified in no time flat when she sees it’s me.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Needed to get out of the house.” I shrug. “Figured the Giddy Up might provide some good entertainment. And let me tell you, that last performance didn’t disappoint.”

I gesture toward the stage with my head, the redhead stepping up and punching in a number. Sawyer’s eyes grow wider, her horrified look turning to sheer terror.

“You saw that?”

“Sure did. You’re good.”

“What’s it going to take to make you forget that you saw this?” she asks, turning serious, crossing her arms.

Alright, add that to the list. Annoying, abrasive, bossy, and can’t take a compliment.

“I can’t be bribed, Sawyer Brown.”

“Doubt that. ”

“I am, however, more than willing to be your duet partner.”

I wink, instantly wishing I could take it back, the double entendre occurring to me way too late. Normally, that’s exactly the kind of comment I’d strive for. On any given day, that one would be solid gold. In this moment, with this woman…I think I might have just slid into creep territory.

“Ugh…” Sawyer rolls her eyes, dismissing my comment easily.

Thank God. Not that I want her thinking I’m some dumb dude bro, but dude bro is better than creep any day of the week.

“Don’t think for one second that I don’t know what you’re trying to do. And it’s not going to work. I’m not going to let you get under my skin.”

“Are you going to let me get under you in other ways?”

Shit. Seriously, I need to sew my mouth shut.

“No.”

Her answer is so emphatic it almost knocks me over. She tries to finish the job, pushing past me as she heads toward the door. Fuck. Now I’ve really pissed her off. That was the last thing I was going for.

“Sawyer, wait!” I holler, spinning on my heel and chasing after her. Thankfully she’s not very fast in those boots of hers, and it only takes me a few steps to cut her off just outside the karaoke room. “I’m sorry. I speak before I think. A lot.”

“I’ve noticed.”

I shrug. There’s no real arguing with it. It’s my fatal flaw. If I were a character in one of those epic fantasy stories, my mouth would absolutely be what got me killed. Probably pretty quickly too.

“I wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass?— ”

“Seriously?” she cuts me off, crossing her arms again, jutting one hip out to the side.

Another couple comes up the stairs, and I move her out of the way so they can pass. Electricity sizzles in my fingertips as they graze her bare skin, her deep brown eyes lighting up for a split second, letting me know that she feels it too. Might not admit it, but it was there, and it was mutual.

“Not about you being able to sing. That I meant, sincerely.” Even in the dim light, I can see the pink rise in her cheeks, her embarrassment taking over. Sawyer looks away from me, shifting even more uncomfortably. I need to try to make her feel at ease here. “So, karaoke is your thing?”

“Yeah, sorta. But…” she trails off, still not looking me in the eye. “That’s not something I really advertise.”

Gotcha.

“Secret’s safe with me.”

“Psshh!” she scoffs. Now she’s looking at me. And that spark that was in her eyes a moment ago when I touched her? That’s long gone. Replaced with a doubt that tells me her walls are going right back up.

“It is. Promise. Cross my heart.” I mark an X over my chest like I’m five, hoping for at least a smile. But she doesn’t crack. “Would it help if I told you something about me that most people don’t know?”

Stillness surrounds us, the only noise filling the space the thrum of the music from downstairs, a weird dance mix of a country hit pumping through the speakers. My heart beats out of sync with the drumbeat, making the moment feel louder and longer than I’m sure it really is.

“Only if it’s real,” she answers, her eyes softening again.

Oh, this is real, Sawyer…

I step in closer to her, my fingers twisting around that same wayward strand of hair that distracts me every time she’s near me, trying to tuck it into the rest of her messy waves. She sucks in a breath, looking up at me, her pretty pink mouth begging to be kissed.

But this is not that moment.

“I’m afraid of armadillos.”

“That’s not funny, Anton!” Sawyer smacks my chest, clearly unamused.

“I told you it needed to be real. You’ve stumbled upon something that is private and personal, and now I’m sure will be used to tease me somehow.

And then worse, you pretend to offer up something in return and you hand me this nonsense about being afraid of armadillos? Are you really that much of a jackass?”

“It’s the truth.” I look at her squarely in the eyes, keeping my own expression level, trying to let her know that I’m letting her in. I’m lowering my own walls. “You can go back and ask my mama. They freak me the fuck out.”

“You’re…you’re afraid…”

“Of armadillos. Yes,” I confirm. “The summer I was seven, my dad took Gus, Milo, Hux, and me camping. Jace and Ewan were around but were too little to join us, and Willa was a newborn, so it was just us four and Auggie. Somehow, one not only got into our tent, but my sleeping bag. I woke up in the middle of the night to the little fucker rooting around in there with me. I woke up the whole tent screaming ‘armadillo!’ To this day, when my siblings or I need to send a distress signal to each other, that’s our code word. ”

Sawyer laughs, clapping her hand over her mouth when she realizes what she’s doing. Disappointment fills me as her beautiful smile disappears behind her hand, and I want to know what other stories I can tell her to bring it back.

“Sorry, it’s rude to laugh.”

“Laugh all you want. My siblings do.”

“And that’s really all a secret?”

I look at her, tilting my head to question whether she’s really still questioning this. “You actually think I broadcast that I’m freaked out by armadillos and that my family uses the word as their personal distress signal as a way to mock me?”

“Good point.”

She looks down for a second, then back up, that rebellious strand slipping out of place again. I chuckle, fighting the urge to fix it again. Once is enough for one night.

“And that’s actually two things.”

“What is?”

“That’s two things most people don’t know. My fear and the distress signal. So, by my count, you’re one up in the secret department.”

Lifting a shoulder, Sawyer turns to go. “Good for me.”

The bedazzling on the back pockets of her shorts catches the light, drawing my eyes to her as she heads down the stairs. Desire shoots through me—as does a reminder to mind my manners—and I count to ten before following her.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I should head back,” she says, stopping at the bottom. “Got an early morning.”

“Let me drive you home.”

Please say yes…please say yes…

“And then how would my car get home?”

“Leave your keys with me. I’ll make sure it’s in the drive and waitin’ for you before you need to go help with pancakes.”

“How’d you?—”

She cuts herself off, and I give her a knowing look. Neither of us needs to say it out loud to know that the answer to how I know she’s been roped into helping with the pancake breakfast is Miss Belle.

“Right,” she continues. “Thank you, but I will drive myself.”

“You sure? ”

Doubt flickers in her irises. For a second, I think I have a shot. But then she squares her shoulders and nods curtly.

“Absolutely. What girl wants to go for a ride with a guy who’s afraid of armadillos?”

She turns to go, walking off confidently, like she’s put me in my place. But I can’t let her get in the last word.

“Hey, Sawyer,” I call. She spins back around, my insides clenching as our eyes meet. “Some girls do.”