“They’re for you,” I hurry to explain. “To say thank you again for last night.”
“You… you baked cookies… for me?”
“Let’s use the termbakedpretty loosely. Lightly toasted. Scorched. Both are perfectly acceptable synonyms.”
He chuckles. “I bet they taste good.”
“They certainly taste better than they look.”
“You tried one?”
“Imayhave sneaked a little nibble.”
“Is that right?” Sawyer’s gaze dips from my mouth to trace the lumpy lines of my oversized knit. “What are we goin’ to do with you, Elsie Hoskins?”
Why are his eyes lingering on me like that? He seems stuck on a spot near my waist.
Oh God…
Thehole.
He probably thinks I’m a complete slob. Self-consciously, I hug my arm around my hip to cover the snag in the wool.
“So… How’d you, um…” Sawyer clears his throat. “Were you okay last night?”
“Did the late-night baking give me away?” I laugh and wave a hand to make sure he knows I’m joking. Well, half-joking. Baking was the perfect distraction, even if I did nearly set the kitchen on fire. “I’m fine.”
“You just sayin’ that?”
“No. You’ll be proud of me. I ran into Luke—”
“Shit.”
“—and I told him I never want to see him again.”
“Yeah?”
“It took me a few false starts, if you can believe it.”
“You? Havin’ trouble standin’ up for yourself? Nah. Who’d believe that?” He winks. “But you held your own in the end?”
I nod.
“How’d that feel?”
“Honestly?” Emotion tightens around my lungs, but I puff out a slow breath. A memory can’t hurt me, can it? “It didn’t feel great, but…”
“Oi! Sawyer!” Cain calls from the boat. “Quit yacking! We need to leave before midnight!”
Sawyer glares over his shoulder and flips up his middle finger. Cain is still roaring with laughter when Sawyer turns back to our conversation as if nothing happened.
“But?” he prompts me to finish.
I shrug. “I was kind of fierce.” Except for the crying part…
“I knew you had it in you.”
“You are possibly the only person who’s ever thought that about me.”
