Page 3 of Sofa King Cute

“Oh, hell yeah.”

“When you do some actual work, you can get a cut of the profits,” I tell him and smack his hand away.

He slouches in his seat like a teenager and sulks the whole way to his dad’s shop. The second I pull up, he jumps out like his ass is on fire. It’s the fastest he’s moved all day. Good. Maybe if I make it miserable for him too, he’ll stop coming around.

Glancing at the dessert, I can’t help but wonder if Liv likes pound cake. It’s Wednesday, which is usually when I walk by her shop to check my post office box. Maybe I could go in and ask her if she’d like a slice.

The thought of her makes my cheeks heat and my shoulders slump. Why would someone as beautiful and charming as her want to settle for a shy nobody like me?

I must like making myself miserable because I turn my truck in that direction.

Chapter Three

LIV

The small bell over the entry door chimes, and I perk up. My face falls when I see it’s Sawyer strolling in.

“You’re hard on a man’s ego, Liv,” Sawyer laughs. I don’t think I or anyone could dent Sawyer’s ego.

Girls from all around town are constantly chasing the man. I get it. He’s charming, down-to-earth, and handsome in a classic kind of way. He’s one of the good ones, and thankfully not banging every girl in town. Although it’s not for their lack of trying.

I’ve managed to stay out of the Sawyer fan club. He’s not hairy or growly enough for me. I suppose we all have our types, though mine is central to one man.

“I think your ego is fine.” Too bad mine isn’t doing so great.

Bored after making my TikToks this morning, I hopped over to do some busy work, thinking it would make the time pass by quicker. It did, but it was also rather depressing. Not for the shop as a whole but my own shortcomings. Numbers don’t lie. Unless I’m standing on a scale, in which case those numbers are bullshit and mean nothing.

The truth is, I’ve spent more money on the supplies I need to make my creations than I’ve made. The store is doing well, but my projects are costing us money at this point. It makes me wonder if I should stop. The thought makes my heart heavy because I enjoy making them.

"Is your sister here?" Sawyer asks, running his hand along one of the new benches Lane put out here to showcase our stuff.

"You really do want someone to hurt that ego of yours, don't you?" I laugh.

Sawyer is always poking at her, but my sister doesn’t pull any punches. She might be the quiet type, but when she lets loose, everyone better stand back. Lane can land a verbal blow if needed.

“It’s good for me.” He winks, making me laugh. “So?”

“She popped out, but—” I stop talking when the bell rings again, and my sister comes through the door.

“Why are the What’s the Stitch ladies hovering out”—Lane stops when she catches sight of Sawyer—“side,” she finishes and rolls her eyes. “Oh, that’s why.”

What the Stitch is a group of ladies who get together and sew. At least that’s their cover for what they do. They’ve always got needles and supplies, but I’ve never seen so much as a doily come to full creation.

Obviously, I think they are a group of well-trained spies sent from the government that surreptitiously eavesdrop on us to get the best gossip. I’ve tried to wiggle my way into the group, but no luck yet. Oh, they’ll chat you up to get the tea, but you’re not getting into the inner circle.

"Do you always have a fan crew?" Lane sets her bag down on the counter next to me, and I peek inside. Not surprisingly, there isn't anything tasty to eat in there. Lane is one of those healthy dieters. Although she would call it a lifestyle.

One I sure as heck don't understand because I eat terribly and we're still built the same. Lane's food is always plain and kinda sad. I’d be depressed if that was all I ate. I wonder if I should sneak candy into her food like parents sneak in vegetables. How do you slip a Skittle into something?

“I can’t help how adored I am.” Sawyer places his hand over his heart. “This is a cross I must bear.”

“They all have bets on who’s going to snag you up at the auction. And if you’re going to fall on your ass.”

“It is a rather nice one, though. Don’t you think?” He turns to give us a side view while he looks back at it.

“I have heard them call it Cottonwood’s Ass,” I tell my sister. The What the Stitch ladies can be on the dirty side when it comes to sexual innuendos.

“Cottonwood’s Ass? What does that even mean?” Lane rolls her eyes again. It’s a side effect of being near Sawyer.

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