Page 64 of Sawyer

I follow Sawyer’s truck down a dirt road that’s bordered on either side by wide-open pastures. I notice there’s some heavy machinery around—excavators, bulldozers, dump trucks—along with stacks of what appear to be irrigation piping and materials for fencing.

It’s a mess, but having all this work done means big things are happening here.

It means Sawyer and his brothers care about the ranch. Judging by the scope of the project, they carealot. I wonder how long this land has been in Sawyer’s family. The idea of him being a careful, thoughtful steward of their legacy?—

Heavens, my pulse won’t quit fluttering.

But it’s the house that comes into view after we crest a small rise that has my heart really pounding. It’s modest—two stories, maybe fifteen hundred square feet—but it’s beautiful. The exterior is limestone on the first level, white siding on the second. The house has a wide, rocking-chair front porch and light green shutters that gleam in the morning light.

My chest twists when I see the screen door that opens onto the porch, which is painted green to match the shutters. There’s something about a screen door that speaks to me. Growing up, I distinctly remember the sound ours would make as my sisters and I ran in and out of the house to play—a noise somewhere between aclapand abang. Those were happy times that have become happy memories I revisit when I need a boost.

Sawyer parks on a patch of gravel to the left of the house, and I follow suit.

“This is beautiful,” I breathe as I climb out of my car.

Sawyer adjusts his hat. “Thanks. It’s the house I grew up in. Was kind of a mess, but we fixed her up over the fall. Ella and I moved in about a month ago.”

“How cool that you live in your family’s house,” I say. “Bet Ella loves hearing stories about y’all growing up here.”

His dimples pop again. I wonder if I’m going to faint.

“She does, yeah. As a matter of fact, she keeps asking Wyatt to teach her how to play poker. I told her that my dad taught all of us how to play, but that Uncle Wyatt is the best bluffer. She says ‘fluffer,’ which has him howling every time.”

“Y’all are cute.”

“Cute?” He tilts his head, frowning. “Last I checked, you said I was ‘hot as fuck.’”

My blood thrums with a rush of heat. Sawyer’s flirting with me.

Iloveflirting with him, probably because I’m able to let loose and just say what’s on my mind.

At the same time, Ineedto besmart. But I guess my need to have fun supersedes that.

“If memory serves, you were the one who said we were hot,” I reply. “I said we were cute.”

“Why not both?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I think I like ‘hot’ better, too.”

His eyes flick down my body. It’s a quick perusal, but it’s intentional, shameless even, and very, very sexy. The spark between my legs flares into a full-blown fire.

Wowthis is happening fast. In many ways, it feels like we’re picking up right where we left off that night in Austin.

In others, it feels like we’re starting from scratch. I found outtwo days agothat Sawyer is a dad. There’s clearly so much about him I don’t know.

I’m dying to do some digging.

I’m also doing my best to slow things down. I’ve been down this road before—Dan was great in the beginning too—and I have no desire to end up at a dead end all over again.

“You are hot, Ava.” Sawyer’s eyes meet mine, his lips twitching. “Now you say that I’m hot too.”

“That why you wore the backward baseball hat to drop-off? To tease us unsuspecting preschool moms with your hotness?”

“So you do think I’m hot.”

I laugh.Thisis why I love flirting with Sawyer. He doesn’t make me feel stupid or ashamed for being, well,me.

In fact, he very much seems to enjoy my less-than-appropriate side.

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