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My Sawyer.
“The neighborhood? I find that hard to believe since you don’t know anyone from Jupiter Bay,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. The action actually makes that sexy V of his lower abdomen that much more pronounced before it dives into the stark white towel.
“Actually, I’m shooting some photos just up the road. Sports Illustrated is shooting their Swimsuit Issue and I’m featured. Isn’t that wonderful?” she asks, taking a step closer to him.
My mind is like an ADHD person on speed. I can’t seem to focus on anything. Not the fact that she’s here and as beautiful as ever, not the fact that he’s practically naked and every bit the sexy professional athlete, and definitely not the fact that my panties are swinging from the chandelier above our heads. Okay, maybe I’m able to focus a little on that last one. Sawyer must notice my lack of attention too and follows my line of sight skyward. When he realizes what he’s looking at, his face quickly looks back to mine. He wears an amused glimmer in his eyes and a dirty little smirk on his lips.
“…so you see why I had to stop by and say hello, right?” Carrie asks, drawing our attention back to the fact that we’re not alone in the house.
“Yeah. No, wait.” Sawyer drops his head and takes a deep breath. “Can you stay right here, Carrie? I’ll be right back,” he says moments before flying up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“I’ve seen that look on his face before,” Carrie says while checking her nails. “He’s probably already screwing the cleaning lady, sweetie.” And as if it couldn’t get any worse, Carrie finally looks up and sighs. “He’s always had…wild tastes.”
Before I can say a word, Sawyer reappears at the top of the steps wearing basketball shorts and pulling a clean t-shirt over his head. He tried to tame his out-of-control, wet locks with his hand, but it didn’t work. He looks delicious, so very sexy, and recently screwed.
I can’t help but smile at that.
“AJ, would you mind waiting for me in the kitchen? I’ll be in there in a few minutes,” he says casually as he descends the stairs.
I’ll be honest; I’m a little stunned at his request. Is it because whatever they need to discuss is a private matter between exes or is there something more to this? If I follow my mind, it’s sprinting straight toward the picture Carrie just so beautifully painted of her manwhore ex-husband. That alone has me ready to slip on my running shoes and get the hell out of Dodge. Been there, done that.
Don’t even want the fucking t-shirt.
But then there’s my heart, and that pesky little organ keeps insisting there’s more to the story than meets the eye. And it’s that trust I’m instilling in him that has me nodding at his request. “Sure.”
I make my way towards the kitchen, leaving Sawyer and his ex-wife in the foyer. With each step I take, I send up a silent prayer that it wasn’t a mistake to place blind trust in a man I really don’t know that well.
Hopefully, I haven’t made the biggest mistake of all.
