“Maybe I should just buy some shoes like you.”
“A lady like you isn’t wearing boots like these, Elsie Hoskins.”
I tilt my chin. I can’t help but give him a soft smile.
“What?” he says, an edge of self-consciousness to his voice.
“You always call me by both names.”
“It’s got a nice sound to it. Does it bother you?”
I shake my head. “Not one bit.”
I enjoy hearing that name better than Elsie Whitehall. I was the human appendage of a tech mogul for such a long time that I forgot what it was like to have my own identity. My steps land weightless after being acknowledged as my own person again.
“Tell me your middle name,” Sawyer says, “and I’ll add it into the mix. Change it up a bit.”
“Prudence.”
His mouth presses into a hard line. “I reckon I’ll just keep callin’ you Elsie Hoskins.”
I grin. He clearly isn’t a fan of my parents’ choice. “What’s your surname?”
“McLeod.”
“And your middle name?”
“Jude…of all fuckin’ things.”
“I think that’s a nice name.”
He grunts.
“Sawyer Jude.” I slyly add, “SJ.”
“Nope.”
“What! That’s a great nickname!”
“Want to hear a better one?”
“Please.”
“Sawyer.”
I laugh. He’s blunt and stubborn, and he swears, well… He swears like a sailor. But I like him. A lot, I realize. He’s safe. Not to look at, though. I peek at him from the corner of my eye. He’s rugged and a little unpolished, but not scruffy. His hair is always wind-swept and perhaps a little long, but he keeps his beard neatly trimmed. His fingernails are impeccable.
Sawyer’s head swivels ever so slightly until I catch the side of one hazel eye. “What’s caught your attention, Elsie Hoskins?”
You.
My cheeks heat, but I hide the shock of realizing just how handsome he is behind a shaky smile.
“Nothing.” I pointedly add, “Sawyer.”
He dips his chin in a nod. He’s happy with that.
I avoid paying any attention whatsoever to the hammering in my chest by scanning the parking lot. Where’s Sawyer’s…truck? He’s big. He has to drive some kind of truck.
