Page 4 of Sawyer

Ifeel good. I’m … holy shit, I’m happy, aren’t I?

It’s been so long since I’ve experienced happiness that I forgot what it feels like.

Thanks to Junie, my life’s filled with plenty of joy. But I’ve learned joy and happiness aren’t the same thing. To have both within reach after years of feeling trapped and miserable—well, it’s the best gift ever.

Throwing my arms up again, I lean back to let out a loud yell. At the same time, Bee bumps me again, only this time she hip-checks me hard enough to send me careening into the person behind me.

My eyes fly open as I hit a solid wall of man. Beer spills everywhere, soaking my shirt as a hand—big, warm, grip firm—curls around my upper arm.

CHAPTER2

Ava

HANDSOME STRANGERS AND SERIAL KILLERS

“Oh, God, I am so”—glancingover my shoulder, I lock eyes with a very tall,veryhot guy wearing a backward baseball hat—“sorry.”

My stomach takes a nosedive at the look of genuine concern in his cobalt-blue eyes.

“You okay?” he shouts above the sound of the music.

I nod, pulse taking off at a sprint. “You? I’m so sorry.”

This guy is the kind of handsome that makes it hard to breathe. He’s sporting dark scruff, thicker along his upper lip. His facial features rival Brad Pitt’s in masculine beauty—straight nose, square jaw, full mouth.

He releases my arm before his eyes flick to my torso. A pair of indents appear between his brows. “Your shirt. Here, I have some wipes—napkins. I’ll get you some napkins?—”

The way he stumbles over his words is adorable.

Also, did he just saywipes?

“I’m okay, really?—”

“You’re soaked.” He tilts his head toward the bar. “C’mon, let’s clean you up.”

Without waiting for a reply, he heads off the dance floor. I take the opportunity to shamelessly check him out.

He’sgorgeous. He’s well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and big arms that fill out his dark green checkered button-up to perfection. He’s wearing Levi’s that are somehow fitted and broken in at the same time. Square-toed cowboy boots complete the ensemble, along with that backward hat that readsBellamy Brooks Boots.

Is he a cowboy?

As a girl who grew up on a ranch—albeit a small one—that’s my first thought. I’ve always had eyes for cowboys. Who doesn’t? But everyone tells you they’re trouble, so I never pursued one. Didn’t help that I started dating Dan at seventeen.

Everyone, men and women, ogle this guy as he moves across the room.

Dottie appears at my elbow. “I think you’re supposed to follow him.”

“I’ll hip-check you again if you don’t,” Bee says.

I glare at her. “Did you do that on purpose?”

Knitting her brows together, she shrugs. “No?”

“Bee—”

“What? I saw him checking you out. He’s hot. You’re hot. I could tell he wanted to say hi, so I did y’all a solid and broke the ice. Remember, the more frogs you kiss?—”

“Right.” My heart skips several beats.

---