I tease him with a sly smile. “Because you know the guy who owns this place?”
“Yeah.”
“Like Mullie?”
“Nah, Bruiser’s not like Mullie. He’s got a missus and a teenage son who’s causin’ him all sorts of hell.”
“Teenage blues?”
Sawyer nods. “Yeah. The kid’s bored, and there’s not a whole lot of excitement around these parts. I’ve been sixteen. I get it. I offered to take him out on the boat.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Nice!” His lips curve in a wry smile. “A bit of hard work for a few weeks will do that kid the world of good. He won’t whinge about keepin’ his ass in school after he’s spent his Easter break catchin’ lobsters from sunup.”
I smile, settling into our spot with my elbows propped on the table. I’ll never tire of the views here. The sun drifts toward the horizon, painting the ocean in shades of sapphire and amethyst beneath the darkening sky. Glasses clink, and laughter carries through the bar around us. We’re surrounded by people, but it feels like we’ve carved out a little sanctuary of our own. I understand what Sawyer meant earlier. There’s noise behind us. Social, but safe.
“You can do some incredible people-watching from the table you’ve picked,” I say. “You can see all the way down the beach.”
He shifts slightly on the stool. “It’s a nice view of the ocean.”
“I walk along here most afternoons. You might’ve seen me!”
“Ah, yeah…” He clears his throat into his fist. “I might’ve.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach do a small, uncertain flip. I like the idea of my hot friend watching me. Maybe…even…noticing me.
I slide a look sideways. His attention is fixed on my legs. My skirt has ridden up just enough to bare my knees and a hint of pale thigh. Thank God I shaved my legs. Or did I miss a spot? At least there’s no hole in my clothes for him to notice this time.
The moment our eyes meet, color rushes into his cheeks. He pushes off the stool and clears his throat. “What can I get you?”
“Oh, um…” I fumble in my bag for my purse. “Maybe a glass of white wine?” I hold out some money, but he gently presses his palm over my hand.
“Put your money away, Elsie Hoskins. I’ll get this round.”
“Only if I can pay for the next one.”
He gives me a look as if he might gear up to argue the point, then lets it go.
We linger over our drinks after that, the conversation wandering from one topic to the next. It’s easy. Comfortable, even. Which is probably why the nagging feeling catches my attention. I sneak another glance at Sawyer. He’s acting a little strange. Quieter. He’s always a bit gruff, but usually I’m the awkward one who’s not sure what to say.
Tonight, he seems to hold back. Sometimes his hand lifts off his knee, and I swear he’s going to touch me—on my leg, my shoulder—but the touch never arrives. His hand balls into a fist until it relaxes, and the conversation continues.
Embarrassment knots my stomach. Am I just imagining a change in Sawyer? Wishful thinking and loneliness mess with my judgment. He’s not interested in me likethat. He’s nice, that’s all. I need to stop confusing kindness with…interest.
“What was Kristen botherin’ you about?” Sawyer asks.
“She likes to impart her helpful advice.” I roll my eyes. “Her charity knows no bounds.”
“What advice could she possibly be givin’ you?”
“About how to act less poor. Wearing nicer clothes.”Sleeping with fewer men, I almost add, but the words stay safely trapped in my mouth.
“You wear plenty of nice clothes.”
I smile. “Thanks.” I swirl my glass, watching the pale gold catch the light. “I know my style isn’t for everyone, but I’m comfortable, and I think it suits me. She doesn’t approve.” I glance at him. “She seems to respect you, though.”
Sawyer lifts a shoulder. “We used to talk a bit more than we do now. I think she sees a bit of herself in me. We come from pretty similar backgrounds, I s’pose, except she chose to keep chasin’ the money and I chose to protect my peace.” He shakes his head. “But I haven’t seen a woman behavin’ like her since my sister went to high school. She shouldn’t be talkin’ about you—or to you—like she does.”
