I take a sip of my drink, then glance back at the table, where Sawyer and Dean are deep in conversation with Kayla.
“You fit in here,” I say before I can stop myself.
Her brows lift slightly. “Is that a compliment?”
“It is.”
She nudges my knee with hers, playful. “Good. Because I like it.”
We stand together for a moment longer than necessary, close, but not touching, the noise of the bar fading into the background. I’m acutely aware of how easy it would be to lean in, to say something I’m not ready to unpack.
Instead, I nod toward the table. “Ready to rejoin?”
She smiles. “Lead the way, Moneybags.”
I groan. “You cannot keep calling me that.”
She laughs, stepping past me. “Watch me.”
As I follow her back, I realize something that unsettles me more than any teasing accusation Sawyer threw earlier.
I don’t feel like I’m balancing two lives tonight. It feels like one. And I don’t know what to do with that.
Melissa fits seamlessly. She laughs at Dean’s dry humor, rolls her eyes at Sawyer’s ego, and leans into me slightly when the bar noise picks up. It feels natural—dangerously so.
At some point, Sawyer turns his attention fully to Kayla.
“So,” he says, leaning back, “what do you do?”
“I write romance novels,” she replies unapologetically.
Sawyer’s eyes light up. “Perfect. You should write one about me.”
Melissa snorts into her drink.
Kayla tilts her head, studying Sawyer like a specimen. “No offense, but you don’t strike me as hero material.”
Sawyer presses a hand to his chest. “That hurts.”
“You’re cocky,” she continues. “I bet you flirt like it’s a competitive sport. And I’m guessing commitment makes you itchy.”
Dean laughs outright.
Sawyer grins wider. “All excellent qualities.”
“For a side character,” Kayla replies sweetly.
I nearly lose it.
Sawyer points at her. “You wound me.”
“Good,” she says. “Builds character.”
The banter crackles, sharp and fast-paced.
Dean excuses himself to grab another round, leaving Sawyer leaning closer to Kayla.
“So,” Sawyer says, “what kind of heroes do you write?”
