Kristen is out on her morning walk. She charges down the pavement in her velour tracksuit, her arms swinging to pump her pink hand weights. Her gaze catches on Sawyer’s truck. She slows. When her eyes flick to the sign for the post office, she jolts to a complete stop.
She knows he’s here.
Good.
She’d better get used to the idea of him being with me.
I stride up to the truck.
“Elsie,” she says.
I refuse to look at her. The key easily slips into the lock. “Are you apologizing to me?”
“Honey, I’ll apologize to you when hell freezes over.”
“Then don’t speak to me.”
I yank open the passenger door and drag Sawyer’s overnight bag off the seat. The black duffel thuds onto the pavement. What the hell has he packed in there? Clothes shouldn’t weigh this much. I bend to pick it up and immediately regret the decision. The bag barely budges.
Kristen couldn’t care less that I’m about to dislocate my spine. Her mood is sunny, and she bounces on her tiptoes, waving. “Sawyer,” she cries. “You’re back!”
She gulps, and a hand flutters to her throat. I frown. Sure, the man is gorgeous, but—
I turn and immediately understand. Sawyer charges toward the truck wearing nothing but one of my pink towels knotted dangerously low on his hips. He ignores Kristen completely.
“I was gettin’ worried when you didn’t come back. Pass me that,” he says, waving at his bag.
“Be my guest.” I step out of his way. “I’m not sure I can actually lift that thing.”
His forearms barely flex as he grabs the handles and lifts the duffel effortlessly from the ground.
“How did you do that?” I ask in awe.
He arches a suggestive eyebrow. “Impressed?”
“Very much.”
He squeezes my bottom affectionately. “Let’s get back upstairs.”
“Um… Sawyer? Hello?” Kristen attempts to wedge herself between us, but he’s faster and steers both of us out of her path. “We were all so worried about you. I’m so relieved you’re back. The last two weeks have been so hard.”
He barks a laugh. “Have they?”
“Everyone around town has been really awful to me since the auction. There’s a lot of…whispering…”
“I wonder why.”
“But I never had time to explain my side of the story! I had too many champagnes, and on top of all the stress of organizing the festival and the auction—”
“That’s a piss-weak excuse.” He shakes his head, and for the first time, Kristen looks less certain of herself. “Well, you’re wastin’ your time tryin’ to convince me. You should be thankin’ Jesus that you were born a woman right about now.”
Her nervous smile collapses.
“If you were a man treatin’ my Elsie like you did,” he says, “I would’ve taken a swing at you.”
She stumbles back a step. “YourElsie?”
“I’m not standin’ out here in my birthday suit because my shower isn’t workin’.”
