Page 31

ANTON

“Roll Tide!”

“It’s pronounced, Geaux Tigers!”

“What is happening in my kitchen right now?” Auggie exclaims, an exaggerated, put-on pained expression painted across his face as he walks out onto the porch, carrying a tray of burgers. The laugh bubbling up under that faked expression gives him away though.

As a lifelong, die-hard Dawgs fan, come football season he might have a very different opinion of two of his sons keeping female company with fans of other SEC teams, but right now, there’s no doubt he’s loving it.

Way too much. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who instigated the moment that brought on Sawyer’s “Roll Tide” followed by Margeaux’s correction.

“Evidence that your sons should have chosen better female company?” I quip.

“You’re included in that, you know,” Jace throws back.

“I dunno,” Auggie drawls. “Despite their poor choice in teams, I vote y’all keep them. Especially you.”

He gives me a pointed look, one that there is no mistaking, pointing the grill spatula directly at me. I shrug it off, furrowing my brow and shaking my head, pretending like I have no idea what he’s getting at.

“Planning on it,” Gus comments, looking perfectly smug. Because of course he does.

As nonchalantly as possible, I glance over at the screen door, trying to catch a glimpse into the kitchen. Unfortunately, my angle sucks, and the only thing I can make out is the very edge of the long counter, blocking my view of all the beauty that is currently holed up in there.

“And you?” Auggie asks.

A pregnant pause hangs in the air, the thick summer air swirling around the group of us, a long, drawn-out moment feeling even longer before it hits me that our father is talking to me.

“What about me?”

Four pairs of eyes stare back at me, incredulous, as Hux, Jace, Gus, and Auggie all try not to smack me all at once. And I know that’s exactly what they are trying damn hard to do, because I know that look. I’ve seen it a lot in my thirty-eight years of life.

“I know you’re not that stupid, Son,” Auggie chastises. “So quit playin’ at it.”

The scrape of the screen door opening saves me from having to defend myself. At least until Ewan walks through the door.

“What’d you do now?”

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Just keeping my business my business.”

Or I’m trying to. Because Sawyer is different. And after what we shared this morning, I do plan on keeping her. How, I have no idea yet. To be honest, I need to figure out if she wants to keep me. Then attempt to figure out the details about how to make our lives line up .

“And because you’ve always respected us trying to keep our business our business, you expect us to respect that?” Hux counters.

“Yup.” Or something like that…

“Bullshit,” Jace says around a yawn.

Hux turns his attention to Jace, narrowing his eyes. “We keeping you from your nap?”

“Well, if you must know, the enemies didn’t become lovers until two a.m., Huxley,” Jace cracks, his delivery smooth and easy, like a good whiskey.

“The scary part is, you’re serious about that,” I comment.

Jace nods, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

As the family wild card, his guilty pleasure for romance novels is a well-known fact, although Jace will flat out tell you he finds zero guilt in the pleasure he takes in reading them. Nonetheless, he still likes to try to catch us off guard by throwing out tidbits about his reading habits.

“And this is why I live alone,” Ewan mutters.

“Seriously though,” Gus says, bringing the conversation back on track. Because if there was ever one of us to be serious, it’s Grumpy Gus. Although, admittedly, he’s a lot less grumpy since Margeaux came into his life. “You and Sawyer—you’re just doing this to win the bet, right?”

I sigh, shaking my head. Fucking Gus.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I taunt, trying to evade the question.

“I would. Which is why I asked the question.”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this so easy,” Hux comments.

“Nothing to get out of. I told you before, and I’ll tell you again. What’s between Sawyer and me is none of y’all’s business,” I tell him, relying on my original answer from Munch.

“Because you’re doing this just to win the bet.”

For fuck’s sake …

“No, this is not just about winning the bet,” I admit.

“They’re the real deal,” our father backs me up. “Wait ’til you see them together.”

Thanks, Dad. I think.

“So, it’s real. Really real…” Hux knits his brow, crossing his arms across his chest, examining me like I’m one of his trees that he’s about to chop down.

“What? You think we’re faking it like in one of Jace’s romance novels?”

Which is exactly what we’re doing. Were doing.

“It’s a popular trope for a reason,” Jace defends. “Because it happens in real life. People have a need…”

“Well, not us.”

Sorta.

A tinge of guilt gnaws at me. This is something I should be able to confide in my brothers about.

Yet, somehow I can’t. Sharing anything more than what I already have feels like some sort of a betrayal.

Maybe because it would mean that I’d have to admit to all sorts of other things I’ve been keeping from them.

“I’m telling you,” Auggie says, twisting to look at the group of us over his shoulder from the grill. “This Sawyer Brown is the real deal. And Hayes needs to make her an offer.”

“Hayes needs to? Or a Hayes?” Ewan clarifies.

“Either.” Our father shrugs, turning back to the burgers.

“A as in one or as in someone’s initial,” Jace pushes, that shit-eating grin somehow growing even bigger.

Fucker…

“Answer remains…”

I seriously hate all of them.

Too bad this is my game. And if they want to play…

“Ag isn’t hiring,” Gus cuts me off before I can get a word in, going into full business mode. “Not with the poor revenue from this year’s crop. I know we can’t help the hard freeze, but that doesn’t mean we need to be going and spending money that we didn’t take in either. And?—”

“Gus, you’re executive vice president. I’m sure you could find a way to make it work,” Auggie declares, putting an end to that.

At least outwardly. Internally, my brain is reeling, wondering if I could get away with a research and development position in my department. Something that would entice Sawyer enough to keep her here in Hickory Hills full-time. With me.

Then again, that wouldn’t be fair. My end of this deal is a letter of recommendation for the job Sawyer actually wants. Her dream job. One that she’s told me all about multiple times. Asking her to give that up might be a bit of a jackass move.

Although, if she doesn’t get it…

“What’s that look on your face?” Gus asks, nodding his chin at me. “You look like you’re up to something.”

“Nope. Just thinking about how my peaches may have sucked this year, but my nuts are gonna be superb.”

My oldest brother groans, rolling his eyes as he sits back in his chair. He should have seen that one coming.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Ewan counters. “Your nuts?”

“I’m certainly not thinking about your nuts. And considering that you?—”

A sharp smack to the side of my shoulder steals my attention, cutting me off, the sting radiating down my arm. I look up to see Sawyer’s disapproving face staring down at me.

“Knock it off. What’d he do to you?”

“Baby brother…” I remind her.

“Pssh.” She waves me off, as if my siblings get zero passes. “Be nice. ”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I argue, itching to play fight with her. To get her all riled up, just to see what she’ll do in front of my family.

She doesn’t bite though, rolling her eyes as she turns to go.

I grab her hand, trying to stop her, and she looks back at me, holding my gaze.

The world stops, all the noise and people fading into the background, leaving only us and the sound of my rushing pulse.

This woman absolutely has me hypnotized.

“Sawyer, are you a cheese on your burger kind of gal?” Auggie asks, breaking our spell.

“I am,” she answers, letting go of my hand and walking over to the grill.

My eyes follow, watching as she and my father chat in hushed voices, as he moves things around the grill. Her laugh floats along the air, and I can’t help but zone out, loving how she’s seamlessly woven herself into my family.

“I’m telling you that the little factoid that all the clocks are set to 4:20 in Pulp Fiction is a myth, because there is a scene where the clock next to Butch’s head is set to 11:58,” Ewan exclaims, so emphatically you’d think he was defending his point in court.

“Look it up on the Internet if you don’t believe me. ”

I turn back to the table, confused how we got on to this topic.

Ewan is staring at the group, wide-eyed and incredulous, as if he can’t fathom that no one believes him.

Really, he should know better. Dolly, having appeared out of nowhere, is perched in Hux’s lap, furiously tapping away at her phone.

“Sure enough, right here, famous movie bloopers. It was supposed to be set to 4:20, but they goofed it.”

“Told you. Every now and again I’m allowed to know something,” Ewan grumbles.

“Only when it comes to fishing and hunting,” I tease .

He flips me a single finger salute so quickly and so automatically, you’d almost think it was on autopilot.

“Then from here on out, you’re only allowed to talk about peaches, peanuts, and pecans,” he retorts, resorting to mispronouncing the last of the glorious three Ps, just as one last barb.

“Please, it’s puh-kahn ,” I mockingly correct, knowing that he knows better. “A pee-can is a chamber pot. Please do not insult our glorious nut.”

“Technically, they’re drupes.”

I freeze, Sawyer’s sweet but know-it-all tone hitting me square in the chest like a bullet. Slowly, I twist in my seat, turning to face her, raising a single eyebrow. Hips cocked to the side, hand planted there like she’s ready to take me on, she smiles, making my skin prickle.

“They’re nuts.”

“They’re drupes. A fruit with a single seed surrounded by a husk.”

“You’re really going to argue with me about pecans?” I question, my heart rate picking up. For as much as I wanted to play fight earlier, it looks like she wants to actually fight.

“If you’re going to be wrong about them, yes,” she throws back, crossing her arms, lifting her perfect breasts.

Oh, she’s fighting dirty now.

It is on.

“This is the best thing I think I’ve ever seen,” Gus mutters behind us.

I ignore him, pushing up out of my chair, to focus on my girl. “I am not wrong. And I’m pretty sure my undergraduate degrees in horticulture and plant pathology, plus my PhD in Plant Breeding, Genetics and Genomics, will back me up.”

“Your degrees are cute, but they don’t make you correct,” Sawyer sasses.

The chorus of gasps from the family table almost breaks my concentration, but the fire in her eyes holds it.

The gallop of my heart against my rib cage is possibly the most intense thing I’ve ever felt, and I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on.

If Sawyer thinks what we did this morning was hot, wait until she sees what happens when we get home.

“The word pecan literally comes from the Algonquin word for all nuts requiring a stone to crack.”

“Then is a cashew not a nut? Or an almond?”

I throw my arms out wide, stepping into her. She inhales deeply, holding in the breath. And I know I’ve got her. Is she technically correct? Sure. I know this—pecans fall into the category of a drupe; but they are largely considered to be and referred to as a nut. Meaning, I’m also right.

I could be a gentleman and let her have this one. Except, I’m not about to give it to her. Not here. That wouldn’t be any fun.

Stepping into her again, I narrow my eyes, ready to drop my closing line. But Auggie cuts me off.

“Sawyer’s right. Only true nuts are hazelnuts and chestnuts. The rest, we technically eat the seeds.”

Sawyer smiles the shit-eating, know-it-all smile of someone who is fully aware that they just won by a judge’s ruling. Because my father took her side. Dirty, dirty move.

The sudden urge to kiss her bubbles up in me, her pretty pink lips taunting me as she silently gloats. Fuck me.

“Burgers are pretty much done,” she says. “Go help your mother carry the rest of dinner out.”

There’s a sparkle in her eyes, one I know is just for me, and it tugs on my heart. I nod, reaching out for her and stealing a kiss before I go, making sure she knows that I’m on to her. Little Miss Bossy Pants knows exactly how to get to me.

“Giving him hell, alright…” Hux mutters as I walk into th e house, his voice fading as I turn into the kitchen, the rest of whatever he says lost into the wind.

“Mama,” I greet, taking the plate of sliced tomatoes from her.

“I like this version of you,” she tells me.

“And what version would that be?”

“Whatever one keeps Sawyer in Hickory Hills,” Margeaux says, pushing past us. “It’s nice to have another non-canine in this family.”

“It’s Dawg ,” Mama and I say in unison.

“Whatever,” Margeaux calls over her shoulder playfully.

“You seem happier is all,” Mama comments.

I nod, not knowing what else to do. She’s not wrong. I am happier. A lot happier. And there is no denying that it’s all because of Sawyer.

Making my way back outside, I set the plate down on the table and park myself back down in my chair.

Without wasting a second, I grab Sawyer, yanking her into my lap, and make a show of kissing her.

Partly to drive home the message to my brothers that this really isn’t about a fucking bet, but mostly because I simply needed to kiss my girl.

Sawyer mewls softly, pulling back. Her cheeks are bright pink, and she can barely look me in the eye, her hair falling in her face as if she’s trying to hide behind it. “What was that for?”

“You know what picking a fight with me does to me.” I press my forehead against hers, resting it there and lowering my voice so only she can hear. “It’s almost like you did it on purpose.”

“And what if I did?”

I smile, my heart squeezing to the point it feels like it might burst. Pretty sure life doesn’t get much better than this .

“You two going to sit there and make kissy faces all afternoon or can we eat?” Jace quips.

“No one’s stopping you,” I retort.

Sawyer flicks my forehead, giving me a look like she can’t believe I just did that. I give her one back—telling her I can’t believe she can’t believe it—and we both burst into laughter.

“Am I really witnessing this?” Gus mutters, as Sawyer slides into the chair next to me.

“We’re keeping her,” Dolly whispers loudly across the table.

“Told you,” Auggie drawls, his singsongy lilt wafting through the air.

I shake my head, laughing to myself. If only it were as real as it feels.