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“Dropping off your dad’s order.”
She had high cheekbones. Eyes more gray than blue and a bottom lip that was fuller than the top.
Had she always been pretty?
He couldn’t remember thinking she was before. But then he couldn’t remember really looking at her either.
She frowned. “He ordered more timber?”
Sawyer nodded, and a breath hissed out of her mouth, sounding like something expelling steam.
“What’s wrong with your dad ordering timber? Our timber is good.” It came out defensively for no other reason than Sawyer didn’t tolerate anyone blackening his family’s reputation.
“There is nothing wrong with your timber. I just didn’t know we needed more.” She was looking at his chest again. And not in an “I love your chest and I can’t stop staring at it” kind of way. This was so she didn’t meet his eyes.
“He said it was for an aviary.”
“Of course it is,” she said, turning back. “Why are you delivering and not Percy?”
“Eliza is in labor.” Their company driver had rushed to the hospital after receiving the call, leaving Sawyer to do the deliveries.
“No!” Birdie clapped her hands together, smiling. “That’s exciting.”
“I guess, but right now I want to know what’s going on with you and the French talking?”
“I explained what that was about,” she said through her teeth.
Her phone rang.
“Murray is a persistent guy, is my guess?”
“What?” Her eyes met his.
“Murray, your FB. Seems like you and him are close if he’s calling back.”
“Oh, ha-ha.” The laugh was forced. “That was just ah, just a game. I told you we’re that.” She waved her hand about again. “We… um, role-play, and that’s probably not him.” She was babbling.
“You go on and answer that call, and I’ll pour the coffee,” Sawyer said.
“I thought you didn’t want coffee.”
“A man can change his mind. Answer your phone, Birdie.” As the words left his mouth, her answering machine clicked on.
“This is Madame Fleur’s Flirt Line,” the same French accented voice said.
Birdie ran. Sawyer grabbed her around the waist. She elbowed him hard in the gut. The air left his lungs in a huge wheeze. He dropped her, and she sprinted to the phone. He was on her heels. Before she could reach the button to cut the message, he’d grabbed her again.
“I can play out all your fantasies, you naughty boy.”
She wriggled, and he dropped her because her ass brushing his groin felt way too good.
“Madame Fleur’s Flirt Line?” Sawyer looked at her.
“Unload the timber, Sawyer.” Her voice was high-pitched and panicky. “Put it wherever you like.”
“Birdie—”
“Has the bill been settled?”
