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His hand started doing what I’d been wanting to do for almost a year now. It ran through his dark locks. “I suppose, but . . . I don’t want to get involved with someone I work with.” He hastily took my phone and went to work setting a reminder.
“That makes sense.”
“I’ll probably show her around this weekend, though, since I’m a gentleman.” His lip twitched.
That was true. Dang him for it.
“I recommend skipping the Sawyer King glory days portion of the tour.”
“Hey, you enjoyed it. If I remember correctly, you got to relive a bit of yours on my alma mater’s field.”
“I don’t think Shelby is interested in kicking field goals.”
Sawyer smirked. “Probably not, but Southerners do love football.”
“True.”
“You know,” he fiddled with my phone, “you could come with us.”
That’s just what I needed. A front row seat to my own personal horror show starring the man of my dreams and the nightmarishly perfect woman poised to capture his heart.
“I’m busy this weekend. We have a game on Saturday and Sunday is . . . um . . . you know.”
Sawyer gave me a strained smile. I’d never come right out and said that I hated how we’d come to be stepsiblings, but he wasn’t stupid.
“A barbecue at the Ranch. Should be fun.” He sounded unnaturally cheery.
Fun wasn’t the word I would use.
His smile went from strained to sincere. “I’m still planning on being at the game.”
“My girls will love that.” Sawyer stole the hearts of women of all ages, including eleven and twelve-year-olds who were about to hit puberty. For the girls on my team, he was right up there with their celebrity crushes.
He held out my phone. “All set.”
When I took the phone, our fingers did a little dance together. A rainforest of butterflies took flight in the pit of my stomach, so much so that a high-pitched squeak leaked out of me. I was an idiot.
Sawyer tipped his head to the side. “You okay there?”
“Fine.” My voice was keeping to the high notes. “I better go.” Before I did something really embarrassing like lick his face.
“All right.” Sawyer shoved his hands into the pockets of his these-make-my-butt-look-amazing jeans. “Are you sure? We could go get some ice cream.”
Ice cream did sound good, but I stared at the man who would never be mine and an outstanding sense of loss filled my entire being. “Can I get a rain check?”
He studied me for a moment, I’m sure in shock that I had passed up ice cream. “You can cash it in anytime.”
I gave him a subdued smile. “Okay. Good night.”
Sawyer reached out as if he was going to touch my face, but his hand awkwardly landed on my arm where he patted me a few times. “Good night. Drive safe.”
I nodded. “You too.” I walked toward my Jeep a little dazed and confused. Sawyer waited on the sidewalk until I was in and pulling out. He waved and watched me drive off.
I didn’t feel like going home to be alone. My house was feeling more and more lonely. As if my Jeep knew exactly where I would end up, it sped past the exit to my house in Edenvale and kept straight on to Carrington Cove. On the forty-five-minute drive, I blared mom’s favorite band, REO Speedwagon. “Can’t Fight This Feeling” was my parents’ unofficial song. Mom loved to tell us the story of how she couldn’t fight her feelings for Dad. Sometimes she went a little too far when she mentioned things like Dad’s rippling chest. Not sure how many ripples he had anymore, but I didn’t need a visual or a verbal description.
It wasn’t only Mom who had to fight her feelings. Dad had to as well, because my biological dad had been his best friend. But when the man who gave me life died, Dad stepped in to make sure Mom and I were taken care of. Their friendship blossomed into a whole lot more. Mom always said she was twice blessed to know true love. She always told me I was the luckiest girl in the world to have the two best men God ever created as my fathers. For a long time I believed her, but I didn’t feel so lucky anymore. Now I felt betrayed. I’m sure Mom did too.
I turned my radio down as I wound my way around town. The sun was about to set, but the last rays of light illuminated my hometown. No longer was it the sleepy town I’d grown up in. Now it was a bustling village full of shops and restaurants. A tourist trap, really. I rolled my eyes thinking how my sisters’ new overpriced boutique, M&M on Main, played a part in it all. And how they were selling out $200 shirts. On a positive note it was good they had something better to do than flirt with the Ranch guests and wranglers all summer.
