Page 8 of Sawyer (Sabre Security Daddies #6)
A few minutes after Lele unlocked the door and flipped the sign to open, the first customer entered the bar. It was unusual. Most people didn't show up until the evening.
She glanced up from counting the inventory and froze. Saul Dorsey, whom she now knew was her new neighbor from across the street, had just walked in the door.
He also didn't usually look like he did right now.
Right now, he looked hot and sweaty. And absolutely delicious.
Normally, when he came in, he wore a pullover and jeans.
This morning, he still wore jeans, but now he was in a muscle shirt.
A muscle shirt, so sweaty it clung to his body, outlining every muscle in his hard-cut abs.
She needed to stop staring, or she would be the one who needed a cold shower.
The last time she saw him, she was curled up behind her couch, trying not to have a panic attack.
What was she supposed to say after that fiasco?
He's always been nice. Although until the “lawn cutting incident,” she wasn't sure she’d heard him say anything other than. ‘Beer,’ or ‘Tab,’ or ‘Keep the change.’ She’d keep it light.
"Hey, Saul. What’s crackin’?”
He stared at her. Poor guy. He must not speak disco . She explained, “That’s me asking what in the world have you been doing?"
She really needed him to tell her so that she could get all the dirty thoughts of exactly how he could get so sweaty out of her mind.
"Not much," he said. Man, he had the deepest, growliest voice. It did wicked things to her girly parts. She was so lost in her thoughts, she almost missed it when he added, "Just fighting with your lawnmower, trying to mow your grass. By the way, Fred Flintstone says he wants his mower back."
She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling.
He didn't look like he was someone who would appreciate being laughed at.
"I told you not to do that. Of course, you were marching out the door at the time, so you probably didn’t hear me.
People are always telling me to speak louder. Well, until they ask me to shut up."
And speaking of shutting up. She needed to do that. Like, right now, because she was babbling like an idiot.
All her words earned her was a grunt and a glower anyway. All righty then. Moving on. "How about I make you some lunch? I make a mean double cheeseburger and fries."
"Just the beer will do, thanks.”
She reached into the cooler and pulled out his favorite brand of beer, popping the top and placing it on the counter in front of him. "Here you go. On the house. It's the least I can do."
He grabbed the bottle and drank the entire beer in one pull. She watched, fascinated by the muscles in his neck working as he swallowed. Placing the empty bottle on the bar, he leveled her with a glare. "How long have you lived in that house?"
His question took her off guard. Why would he want to know that? She didn't like questions. Experience had taught her saying the wrong thing could be dangerous. "Why do you want to know?"
"I want to know how many swats I need to land on your ass for mowing that grass by yourself. I figure one for every month should do."
Whoa, her lady bits spasmed at his words. No one had ever threatened to spank her before, well, not in real life. She imagined someone saying that all the time when she was alone, in bed, with her vibrator.
“Are you listening to me?”
She hadn’t been. She’d been too caught up in her thoughts of his large hand smacking her bottom. But she couldn’t very well tell him that. “Um, I… um. That’s not fair at all.”
“Never mind. Let me repeat what I said yesterday. That is my grass as long as I’m here. And fair warning, if I catch you behind that mower again, there will be consequences.”
That sent a full-blown shiver down her spine that landed in her pussy and stayed there. Lord, if he kept that up, she was going to have to go home and change her panties. She needed to change the subject. “C-Consequences? What… what kind of consequences?” Why did her voice sound so breathy?
His eyes narrowed on her, and the shiver between her thighs turned to a throb. And now her nipples were joining the party.
Please don’t get hard. Please don’t get hard.
“I’ll try to restrain myself.” Sawyer’s deep voice rumbled.
Her eyes flew open. She’d said that out loud? OMG!
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she rushed to explain.
He scanned the empty bar before turning back to her, one eyebrow cocked.
Groaning, she lowered her face to the bar. She’d enjoyed living in Elk Jaw. Now she was going to have to burn the entire town to the ground and join the French Foreign Legion.
Sawyer leaned forward. She knew this because his breath tickled her ear when he spoke. “The kind of consequences that will make you glad your job involves a lot of standing up instead of sitting. Got me? ”
“Oui,” she croaked out. “Do you know how to apply to the French Foreign Legion?”
His chuckle did nothing to calm her shivering. “I’m pretty sure you have to travel to France. No mowing your lawn. Got me?”
She nodded, her forehead rubbing against the grain of the wooden bar. Maybe it would open up and swallow her whole. He worked a finger under her chin and tilted her face to him. “Good girl,” he rumbled.
Gah! That voice was going to kill her. But what a way to go.
Giving herself a mental shake, she stood. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cheeseburger and fries?”
“Is it any good?”
“Does a bear poop in the woods?”
He barked out a laugh. “I’ve never heard it phrased quite that way, but yes. And I’d love a cheeseburger and fries. And another beer.”
Practically tossing a beer at him, Lele turned and fled to the kitchen. Two burger and fries plates later, she joined him on the customer side of the counter while they split a giant Chipwich for dessert.
She froze when he reached over with a napkin and wiped her chin. Heat filled her cheeks. He shrugged. “You had ice cream on your chin.”
He didn’t need to wipe her chin for her like a sloppy kid. Besides, that was a waste of perfectly good ice cream. “You could have told me. That’s what I have a tongue for.”
Horror froze her in place. She did not just say that.
His lids lowered as heat flooded his eyes. “If I’d known that was an option, I’d have used mine.”
No words. She had no words. What did you say to that?
Thanks for wanting to lick me?
Nope. No. Absolutely not.
“You know what they say, though,” he continued, as if she had not just humiliated the crap out of herself. “If I lick you, you’re mine.”
Her lungs froze in place. Which was fine because she’d forgotten how to breathe anyway. To make matters worse, he smiled at her. He had a great smile. Like a panty-melting, drool-inducingly great smile.
Silence held rein for a minute, which he finally broke. “So, tell me about yourself. Best and worst. Ready?”
Best and worst? What the heck did that mean? Before she could ask, she showed her.
“Candy. Best candy and worst candy. My favorite is jellybeans. The draft beer and red chili pepper flavors. Worst candy on the planet? Circus candy peanuts. That stuff tastes like foam rubber.” Challenge filled his gaze when he asked, “So, what’s your best and worst?”
She loved a challenge. She never backed down. Never. “Worst candy, black licorice. Best candy, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.”
He grinned. “You have to be more specific. Is that white chocolate, dark thins, big cup, pieces… what kind of Reese’s?”
As if there were any decent Reese’s except the original. She put all the disdain she could manage into her words. “The original. Okay, it’s my turn. Worst and best movie.”
“You’re pitching softball choices, Lele. The best movie ever filmed, Dumb and Dumber. They don’t get better than that. Worst movie? That’s harder, but I’d have to say when they made the movie adaptation of Borderlands. Tragic. What’s yours?”
“Best movie, either Despicable Me, the first one, if I have to choose, but I love them all. Even Minions. Worst Movie? When I was in—I mean, someone talked me into watching this movie called Deep Impact. At the end, not only did the main girl die, but then it turned out her sacrifice wasn’t even necessary.
I’m changing my answer. Any movie that makes me cry, I hate.
” There was too much in real life to cry about.
She wasn’t about to cry over stuff someone made up.
Saul nodded. “That’s an old movie. Where did you say you saw it?”
“I didn’t. It’s my turn, right? How about the best and worst date?”
Date? Really? That was what came out of her mouth?
She couldn’t have said song, or subject in school, or dentist? Anything would be better than a date. What was she supposed to talk about? She’d never even been on a date, really. When you go from being the town’s scapegoat to the town’s black sheep, your dating life is pretty much nonexistent.
“Best date was when Jenny Talton and I hiked the Appalachian Trail for the weekend right before I left for boot camp on Parris Island. We had a lot of, um… fun. The worst date I ever had was with Trudy Carter. We went to the fair and then to a movie. I had a hot dog at the fair. It gave me food poisoning, and I threw up in her lap at the drive-in.”
“You did not!” Lele said with a giggled gasp.
“I did. We were at The Reef because I thought a scary movie would give us a good reason to cuddle.” By the time he finished describing his date, she was laughing so hard her sides hurt. She almost missed his asking, “Okay, that’s my worst day period. What’s yours?”
And just like that, she didn’t feel like laughing.
Her pulse quickened. The room around her faded away, dissolving into cinderblock walls and humming fluorescent lights.
She was back in the interview room of the Elk Jaw police station, confessing to a crime she didn’t commit.
Only now, she knew what the next five years would hold.
One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days of hell.