Page 6 of Sawyer

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” I pluck at my shirt, holding up the beer stain.

He’s laughing again, and the warmth inside my skin notches up a degree. Mustached Maybe Cowboy is surprisingly easy to talk to.

Logically, I know not all men are moody grumps. But I was with one for so long, I think my nervous system might take some convincing.

A bartender appears, holding out a white towel and a glass of what looks like club soda. “Towel’s clean, but no dice on the Tide pen. Sorry, boss.”

Cowboy takes the towel and water. “Appreciate you checking. Thanks.”

My knees get this weird, tingly feeling when he offers them to me.

I put a hand on the bar to steady myself. “What’s this?”

“Told you we’d get you cleaned up. Sorry about the Tide. I usually have a pen or two on me, but … yeah, if it’s just beer, club soda should do the trick. I’m kind of an expert in getting stains out.”

“Of course you are.” Blinking slowly, I take the towel and club soda. My heart drums inside my chest.

In addition to being obscenely hot, is this guy also helpful? Considerate? Thoughtful? Honestly, I couldn’t care less about my shirt, but this cowboy?—

He definitely cares.

“Thanks.” I dip the towel in the water and get to work on my shirt. “That was really kind of you.”

The bartender returns with a pair of Shiner Bocks.

“Took the liberty of ordering you another beer too,” Cowboy explains.

My right knee wobbles precariously.Holy shit, am I in the midst of a legitimate swoon?“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He sets a beer on the counter in front of me.

“Who are you, and what are you planning to do with my lifeless body after your little ruse to charm and abduct me works?”

He grins. “So it is working.”

“Hell yeah it’s working.” I grab my beer and take a long, slightly panicked sip.

Laughing, he holds out a hand. “I’m Sawyer.”

I look down at the huge mitt of his hand. Look up at him and let out a little chuckle of disbelief.

He cocks a brow.

“It’s just … a nice name.” I slide my hand into his, my body igniting at the warm, dry feel of his palm pressed against mine. I give it a solid squeeze and look him in the eye, just like my dad taught me, and I don’t miss the way his gaze flickers when he squeezes back.

One side of his mouth kicks up. “‘Nice’?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

I let out a huff. “Fine. It’s a hot name. Like, a hot guy name.”

He keeps his hand wrapped around mine. “Do I fit the bill?”

A smile, big and broad, breaks out on my face. “I’m Ava.”

“Hmm.”

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