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Sawyer waved off his mom’s attempt at intimidation. He patted the seat next to him. “I saved you a spot.”
“Emma will probably want to sit up front so she can see better since she’s, you know . . .”
“Short?” I laughed.
“I was going to say height challenged, but I didn’t want to offend you.”
I didn’t believe that for one second but played along. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.” That was the beauty of amphitheater style seating. What was an issue was the man smiling sweetly at me waiting for me to sit by him. Perhaps Josephine was right, though I hated to say it. Maybe I should sit in the front row.
“You know, I think I will sit up front, so I can snap some pictures for the Ranch’s social media pages.” I turned to leave.
“I’ll come with you.” Sawyer stood up.
“Thank you, but—”
Sawyer tilted his head, his eyes begging to know why I was ditching him.
It panged my heart because, truly, he was the best friend I had ever had, and I hated that because I wanted more, we needed to be less. But I couldn’t tell him that. Instead, I made up a pathetic excuse on the fly, which never turns out well. “What I meant to say was the seats up here are more comfortable and . . .” I had nothing. Absolutely nothing but three people staring at me as if I was crazy. Well you know what? I was. That’s what being in love with your stepbrother does to you. There, I said the freaking S-word.
Dad reached out and touched my arm. “Are you feeling all right, Emma?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.
Josephine’s eyes said she suspected all along I was crazy and now I was proving her right. I didn’t dare look at Sawyer. Instead, I turned on a dime and hightailed it to the front.
Sawyer beat me there, jumping over benches and a small child all while his mom called after him to come back. Why was he acting like that? We were causing a scene.
I took a seat in the front row on the right side, trying to pretend I hadn’t noticed Sawyer’s crazy antics. Sawyer ended up on the left but made a quick course correction as soon as I sat down.
He cozied right up to me, making me feel as if heaven and hell had collided. “You’re right, the wooden benches down here are much more uncomfortable than the ones up there.” He nudged me and laughed before turning serious and hitting me full force with his amber eyes. “What’s going on with you, Em? Did I do something?”
Yes, he had. He had given me false hope and the vision of what a life full of love and laughter could be like and it killed me that I could never have it, could never have him. Why couldn’t he have been a polygamist or felon? Heck, I would have even taken halitosis, or that he chewed with his mouth open. But, no, his breath was amazing and his manners were impeccable. Darn him.
In response to his inquiry I shook my head and faced forward. What I saw in front of me was trouble brewing. My sisters were definitely flirting with Ashton, and worse, he was flirting back. There was copious amounts of touching going on and fits of giggles marked by leaning. Maybe that was my problem, I had never properly learned to lean. Instead of learning to burp the alphabet, I should have studied up on that.
Sawyer wasn’t going to be ignored. “Em.” He tugged on my ponytail.
I turned to face him. His concerned amber eyes glistened in the summer sun, making them even more attractive. It wasn’t helping, so I did some butt kicking and yep, it was painful. “Did you have fun with Shelby yesterday?”
He squinted. “It was fine. But what does that have to do with anything?”
Basically everything. Couldn’t say that either. “I was just wondering.”
“It would have been more fun with you.”
“I doubt that.”
“Em, come on. Tell me what’s wrong. Has something happened at work?”
“Work is great. I’m great. Like so, so, so great.” I flashed him a sardonic smile.
He nudged me several times in a row. “You are so, so, so lying. Why?”
“What makes you think I’m lying?”
“It may have something to do with how you think the wood benches up there are more comfortable. And you’ve never turned down Las Delicias before yesterday.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Maybe I wasn’t in the mood for Mexican food.” That was a lie. I was always in the mood for smothered burritos. “And,” I scooted my butt around the bench, “this bench definitely feels harder.”
Sawyer let out a heavy breath. “Whatever you say, Em. I’m here if you want to talk.”
