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“Who-who!” I don’t know why Dax decided our signal should be the owl, but like the dipshit I am, I went along with it.
I start playing the music that Dax has downloaded to my phone. Frankly, it’s girly stuff and I have no idea who is singing, but Dax insisted that Ronnie would love it. He even roped Sam into helping us. She helped him come up with the playlist. We’ve spent all afternoon planning this, and now it’s almost midnight. I told Dax it was too late, but he insisted that I had to try tonight.
The music keeps going. I wait impatiently for Ronnie to get up from the bed and come to the window. I see her shift under the covers, but no sign that she’s getting up. I turn the volume up.
“What’s taking her so long, man?” Dax whisper-yells up to me.
I look down to see Dax pacing anxiously. “I don’t know.” I try to whisper too, but I think it comes out as more of a shout. I see Ronnie’s head peek out from under the covers. I tense, and turn the volume up a little louder. Come on, Ronnie, give me the chance to apologize.
She gets out of bed, and I can’t help but grin. She’s so cute with bed head, and her pink tank top and shorts. I shift uncomfortably on my tree limb. Now is not the time to get a hard on. I’ll fall off of the damn tree branch.
Her face is flushed. She looks more than a little tense as she slams open her window. “Sawyer, what are you doing here? It’s late. Are you crazy?”
Uh oh, not exactly a positive response.
I try to hold my hands to my heart, but I slide to one side of the branch. Ronnie gasps, as I try to steady myself. I watch mournfully as my cell phone falls to the ground. I manage to regain my seating.
“I’m crazy about you, Ronnie.” I can’t help but use the line. She gave me the perfect opening.
“So, you decide to blast Taylor Swift outside my window at midnight on a school night?” She leans out of the window. Her gaze narrows and she continues in a harsh whisper, “Sawyer Rodriquez, you better be glad my dad sleeps like the dead. Not to mention my neighbor, Mrs. Peterson. She called the police when my dad used the weed eater at dusk, much less this.” She sighs and folds her arms. “What exactly are you trying to get across with this stunt?”
“I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry. You didn’t want to listen, so Dax and I came up with this plan.” I look down to see Dax giving me a thumbs up from below. “I should have told you about the bet. I should have been honest with you.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “You should have been, but I guess I should have listened too. Now, you moron, you need to get down before you fall. Or before Mrs. Peterson calls the cops.”
“Am I at least your moron?” I smile, and hope it looks charming. I have to know we are okay before I leave this damn tree.
She huffs. At last, I see a small grin cross her face. “Yes, you’re my moron. I’ll talk to you soon, I promise.”
I give her a thumbs up. “That’s all I wanted to hear. Thanks, Ronnie.” I start climbing backward down the tree limb. I feel something snag on my jeans when I’m about halfway down.
“What was that?” Ronnie whispers down.
“I think I ripped a hole in the seat of my pants,” I whisper back, mortified.
“You did, man! I can see your butt shining like the moon down here! Ripped clean through your underwear!” Dax’s laugh could probably be heard on the moon at this point.
Ronnie starts giggling and I can’t help but smile. Yep, I can feel the wind hitting my butt, but my girl is happy, so I’m good. God, when did I turn into such a sap?
“What is all that racket? Ronnie, do I need to call the police? Dang fool teenagers, I didn’t reach eighty-years old to have my rest bothered by a bunch of young’uns!” Mrs. Peterson’s angry shout cuts through the night.
I jump from the lowest branch down to the ground. I hear Ronnie trying to appease Mrs. Peterson. “Everything’s fine, Mrs. Peterson. Sorry about the commotion. Must have been a squirrel.” I look up and catch Ronnie grinning down at me. I give her a slow wink, and as Dax grabs my arm and we start to run, I glance back and blow her a kiss.
Chapter Forty-One
Guys don’t know how to give a proper apology. From the womb, they learn never to say I’m sorry, while we learn to constantly say it. I truly think a guy’s head would explode if he ever tried to say the words “I’m sorry.” If he can say it, and he’s still alive after, he’s a keeper. -Sam
Ronnie
Fudge, I don’t know what I’m going to say. I come to a stop in front of Frank’s garage and look around the garage bays. I don’t see Sawyer, but a lot of guys in coveralls stop to stare at me. I bang my head against my steering wheel. Ugh, I really don’t want to do this.
“Ma’am, did you need to drop off your car today?” I hear a gruff voice outside my window and look up. An older man with muscles that could seriously crush someone stares down at me with a crooked grin. He’s got silver at his temples and lordy, muscles on top of muscles. If I wasn’t half in love with Sawyer, and I was into much older guys, he would definitely be someone I could be attracted to. His nametag says Frank.
“No sir, I’m actually looking for Sawyer Rodriquez. Is he here today?” I blink up at him and his grin broadens.
“Yes, ma’am he is. He’s back in the office helping me with invoices. Come on and I’ll bring you to him.”
He opens the car door and holds it for me. I smooth my hands over my outfit. I took a lot of time getting ready today, probably way too much time for going to a garage. I have skinny jeans on and my favorite v neck sweater that shows off the swell of my breasts. I feel a little conspicuous walking into the back office where the smell of car grease and sweaty men lingers.
