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One track mind, this kid. I knew how to make him stop asking questions. “We’re going dancing.”
Kurt wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”
Give it about three or four years, kid. “I’ll be there,” I assured Aubrey.
She gave one last look at Sawyer, and left.
I’d explain it all to her tonight. Not that there was much to say.
For the next few hours, I talked Sawyer and Kurt through removing old parts or installing new ones, and they would reply, but other banter and conversation was all-but nonexistent.
Sawyer fitted a tiny cable to the stick on one end and the landing gear on the other. “Seriously, this precision,” he muttered. “People pay a lot for this kind of work.”
Heat flooded my face at the praise. Damn my body for reacting. “I don’t do this professionally.”
“Would you? Could you?” He held my gaze.
I blinked first. “I suppose, but there’s not a demand for it.”
Sawyer grunted and went back to helping Kurt attach a wheel to a leg.
I hated to admit it, but Sawyer was good with Kurt. Patient. Kind. Encouraging the kid’s imagination instead of squashing it.
We wrapped up a few hours later, and sent Kurt on his way when Elaina stopped by for him.
Sawyer stuck around, diving into cleanup without pause.
Without a buffer here, I could tell him to leave. “Should I ask why you know so much about RC planes?” Not the way to shut down a conversation.
A shadow crossed over Sawyer’s face before his expression went blank. “You really shouldn’t.”
Or maybe it was exactly the way to put an end to the day. I wasn’t interested in getting personal with him. “How about cockpits?” Why did I go there?
Because my brain was a dirty filthy traitor.
“Do you really want me to answer that, or do you want to take it back?” Was that teasing in Sawyer’s retort?
“I said what I said. If you’re going to give me a take-back…”
“You’ll what?” He paused in putting tools back in their places. “Take back the day we met?”
I stalled. The answer was absolutely I would. But I wouldn’t. “I’m not the one who fucked up that day.”
“Hmm…”
Infuriating. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
“Why robots?” Sawyer asked. Was he serious?
“You’re not even trying to hide that you’re changing the subject.”
“I don’t need to hide it.”
“I like to build things.” Why was I still talking to him? Because I was enjoying the conversation, as much as it hurt to admit. “That’s what I’m inspired to build. I also had a mild to medium fascination with mechs growing up.”
“Gundam?” Sawyer looked amused. Not smug. Not like he was gloating. Just the faintest hint of a smile.
And fuck-it-all if that wasn’t sexy.
