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There was no way his logic made any sense, but I wasn’t going to argue.
“Okay?” Sawyer asked.
Kurt scrunched up his face, and after a moment, relaxed his expression. “Okay. As long as I can still bomb the zombies when you’re done.”
“Of course.” Sawyer relocated the bombs one by one, with me holding them exactly as he instructed each time.
During the entire process, Kurt watched closely. “How do you know how to do all of this? Are you smart like Evie?”
No.
“Definitely not.” Sawyer saved himself with the answer. “But someone really close to me, someone I loved and lost”—was that a hitch in his voice? A chink in his armor?—“used to make zombie crushing tanks. And he taught me a lot about them.”
“My dad made this with me.” Kurt’s voice grew soft. “But he died.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard when they never come back.” That was definitely a catch. A fumble in Sawyer’s tone. “But if we keep this running, in a way he’s always with you.”
We finished rearranging the plane’s armaments, and carried it to an empty spot in the park. When it took off, Kurt grinned broadly. “It works.”
“You probably need to secure those bombs better than we did,” Sawyer said. “I’ll make you a list of what you need to tell Evie.”
Kurt’s attention was mostly on his plane now. “What if she asks how I know all that stuff? Grownups never believe kids.”
“I do. But if she asks, tell her your Uncle Rohde’s friend said so.”
That would’ve been the perfect chance to send the kid to get Evie on Sawyer’s side. Have Kurt mention his name. Hell, I was almost impressed with the way Sawyer handled the whole situation. He was still a bozo, but he had a soft spot or two.
Sawyer spent most of the rest of the picnic helping Kurt fly the plane, and as everyone left for the day, he helped me clean up. I got a good look at him under the pavilion, and the fact that he’d never put his shirt back on shone in a glaringly uncomfortable red on his skin.
“That sunburn is gonna suck,” I said.
Sawyer looked down at his arms, and at his torso as best he could, and puffed out a sigh. “Probably.” He reached for his shirt, which someone had left on one of the benches.
“Don’t put that back on.” I could be a little nice, after what he did for Kurt. “Trust me.”
Sawyer snorted.
“Dumb request, I know, but do it anyway, Richie Rich.”
We climbed into my truck. I drove to the motel, parked in front of his room, and grabbed the aloe that I kept behind the back seat for things like grill burns.
He looked at the bottle with raised eyebrows.
“You have something to say?” I asked.
He bit his bottom lip. “I don’t. Rather, I’d really love to make a joke about you finding an excuse to oil me up, but I’m not so arrogant I think this burn isn’t going to hurt like fuck, and be even worse without help.”
Good boy. I swallowed the words. If he could be civil, I could do the same. “This will be easier inside. Yes, I’m inviting myself back to your room.”
“I knew I’d win you over.” Sawyer’s light taunt ended in a wince when he went to climb from the truck, and his back peeled away from the seat at a slower rate than the rest of him.
He let us inside, which was as neat and clean as if this was his first night in the room, rather than having lived here a week. There was nothing personal in view, aside from a glimpse of a suitcase peeking out from behind the far bed.
“Have a seat,” I gestured to the closer bed.
Sawyer sat on the corner, back ramrod straight.
I squeezed a generous helping of gel into the palm of my hand. When I touched Sawyer’s back, he sucked in a sharp breath swallowed by a low groan. Both sounds drove straight to my cock.
