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“I baked cake. Do you want cake?”
“No.”
“Y-you always like cake.”
“No, I don’t.”
She frowned. “I’m sure I remember you saying once at Ryder’s birthday party you loved cake with lots of frosting.” She was talking fast now. Clearly nervous, which told him she’d been up to something and didn’t want him knowing about it.Too bad.
“I was ten, and stop changing the subject. Tell me what the stuff with that phone call was, Birdie. Because I heard you talk dirty in a French accent to someone called Murray.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” she said quickly.
He folded his arms, which his four younger siblings would understand meant he wasn’t moving until he had answers, and leveled her with a hard stare.
“You don’t have a boyfriend.”
“You don’t know that! I don’t tell you anything about my life. W-we’re not friends.” Her eyes were on the move, shooting first left and then right.
“You’re right, I don’t. But someone in this town would, and by now they’d have told me.”
Her shoulders slumped. Birdie knew like he did. The gossips in Lyntacky were legendary.
“W-we’re that.” She waved her hand about.
“That?”
“Don’t make me say it, Sawyer.”
“And yet I’m still clueless.”
“He’s my FB,” she blurted.
“Facebook?”
“I’m not saying it in front of you, Sawyer.”
He got it then and didn’t like the instant leap of denial. What did he care if Birdie had a fuck buddy?It didn’t ring true.That was the problem. That and the surge of unreasonable anger that someone did that with this woman. Which was weird because he’d never, not once since he’d known her, thought of her as anything but the annoying Little Miss Sunshine, everyone in Lyntacky loved.
But then he’d been fooled by a woman before.
Birdie’s nice girl rep always made Sawyer’s teeth grind. No one was that good. Until today, that halo had never slipped.
“I need coffee.” She shuffled sideways again and hit the button on the coffee machine. The long blond tail of her hair hung between her shoulder blades. His eyes moved to her ass again.
Christ, he was checking out Birdie McAllister.
Looking away, he scanned her kitchen. Color hit him hard between the eyes. Red, pink, blue, yellow, it was all over the place.
“Jesus, doesn’t all this color make your head hurt?”
“No. I like color,” she said.
“Me too, just not all of it at the same time.” Even the mugs hanging on the tree thing were different colors. His sister would pitch a fit if she saw them. Zoe liked everything matching.
“I’m sure you’re not just here to insult the interior of my home, Sawyer. So why are you?”
At Birdie’s prissy tone, he dragged his eyes from the cupboards painted in different shades of pink and looked at her again.
