Page 111 of Sawyer

I’m so scared and so excited and soeagerto know what happens next. Because with Sawyer, every chapter just gets better and better.

I don’t want him to leave. Apparently neither does Junie.

She crawls into my lap and puts her hands on my face. “Mommy?”

“Yes, Bug?”

“Can Yella stay for bath time too?”

Ella’s face lights up. “Can I, Miss Ava? Please please please?”

“Y’all are shameless,” Sawyer says with a chuckle. I notice he’s blushing a little as he runs a hand over his face. “Ella, we should probably get going.”

I put my hands on Junie’s little hips. “I don’t see why Ella can’t stay for bath time. Think we have enough water, Junie?”

“I think so.”

“And soap? Do we have enough of that?”

June looks at her new friend. “Yella, we have so much soap. Probably enough to wash my hairandyours.”

“So what do you say?” I look at Sawyer. “This way, you can put her right to B-E-D when you get home. Start the week off squeaky cleanandwell rested.”

“You sure?”

I smile. “Can we stop asking each other that already? I’m sure, Sawyer.”

I’m sure about so much more than bath time.

But I’m not ready to explore those feelings, much less talk about them. I’m not ready to face the fact that Sawyer wants a wife, and I am not at all interested in being one. So I stand up and hike Junie onto my hip, telling Sawyer to leave the plates.

He doesn’t, of course.

Junie wiggles her way out of my arms and onto the floor, and she and Ella promptly fly through the living room, where they dive into a basket of Magna-Tiles.

“I’ll clean this up real quick,” Sawyer says, hands full as he heads for the sink.

I roll up my sleeves. “I’ll help.”

I ignore him when he fights me, telling him that whoever cooks shouldn’t have to clean up. Waving the thought away, he scrubs the pots and pans and I load the dishwasher and wipe down the countertop, the two of us chatting about everything and nothing as we move inside the kitchen.

The arousal between my legs that’s been simmering all day bursts to vibrant life when, after Sawyer wipes his hands on a towel, he slips one into the back pocket of my jeans and pulls me to him, my back to his front.

“I’m dyin’,” he murmurs into my nape.

I bite my lip. “Think we can …”

“You game to try? Really?”

It’s adorable how surprised he sounds.

Of course I want to have sex with you. You’re hot as hell with your scruff and your smirks. You made lunch. You made dinner. You poured me not one, but two drinks, and you did the dishes without getting all moody about having to “help.”

“I’m absolutely game to try. But first, bath.”

“Right.” He nips at my shoulder. “Thenbone.”

Laughing, I tell the girls it’s time to get in the tub. There are two bathrooms in the apartment, but the one in the hallway doesn’t have an actual tub. So we head through my bedroom and into the primary bath, where there’s a soaking tub big enough for several adults and about half a dozen kids.

---