Page 159 of His Reckoning

He glances at me over his shoulder. “Trust me.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “I’m very good at distractions.”

Despite myself, I laugh.

By the time the wine is poured, the tightness in my chest has loosened enough that I can finally breathe normally again.

Sawyer hands me a glass and leans back against the kitchen counter.

“Drink,” he says.

“Yes, sir.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I take a long sip and exhale. “Okay … that actually helps.”

“Of course it does.”

“You sound very confident about that.”

“I’m confident about most things.”

I laugh and lean against the island. “That must be exhausting.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying me again. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “A little.”

“Good.”

He pulls out his phone and taps a few buttons.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering dinner.”

“Already?”

“You haven’t eaten, have you?”

I hesitate.

Sawyer raises an eyebrow. “That’s what I thought.”

A few minutes later, the order is placed, and he sets the phone down.

“All right,” he says, draining the last of his wine, “come here.”

I blink at him. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been sitting, hunched over a laptop, for weeks and your shoulders look like concrete.”

“That’s very rude.”

“And accurate.”

I narrow my eyes but step closer anyway. “What exactly is your plan?”

Sawyer gestures toward the hallway. “My room.”