“Oh—hey. Hi. I didn’t know you were, uh, right there.”
I arched a brow. “Bad time?”
“No, course not. Perfect timing, actually, minus incompetent drivers trying to take out my back end.” He stepped up on the sidewalk and took my garment bag from me, and as I wheeled my suitcase toward his trunk, I caught a glimpse of his very round, very enticingback end.
Would’ve been a shame to take that out.
Sawyer reached for my bag, but I already had it, sliding it into the trunk alongside his.
“Incompetent, huh?” I said. “I believe the term you used was ‘fuckwad.’”
“Yeah, well, it’s a word that really should be used more often, don’t you think? Bad drivers, rude people on the train. Ex-boyfriends.” He laid my garment bag on top of the suitcases, hit a button to shut the trunk, and looked up at me. There was a twinkle in his dark eyes today that hadn’t been there at our first meeting, though there was still that restless energy beneath his skin. He’d paired navy chinos with a polo and loafers, and in the sun his hair looked several different shades of brown, lighter strands catching the light like he’d spent time outside lately.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, giving me one last out.
I’d asked myself what the hell I thought I was doing all weekend, but the truth was, it felt like the right thing to do. I couldn’t explain it, other than I wanted to, I had the time off before the busy work season began, and I knew I could help Sawyer through whatever was thrown at him this week.
Jesus, that made it seem like I had some sort of savior complex.
“I’m in,” I said.
He nodded once. “Fantastic. Let’s get on the road before you change your mind.”
The interior of Sawyer’s car smelled just like him, and I took in a deep breath and let the delicious scent fill my lungs and settle in my chest. Clean and warm, like the man himself.
This week wasn’t going to be a hardship. Not at all.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Keeping things professional might get a little tricky, and there was still a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind for letting Sawyer believe I was the man he thought I was.
But I’d seenthatguy, and I had a hard time believing he could take care of Sawyer in the way he needed.
Traffic in the city was heavy but moving steadily, and I stayed quiet, giving him space to focus on steering clear of all the“fuckwad drivers” while watching the city pass by. It wasn’t until we got on 17 North that Sawyer flipped on the radio.
“So what do you like to listen to?” he asked.
But it wasn’t that question that caught my attention—it was the one he was asking on the radio.
“…if you’re still refreshing his Instagram at midnight hoping he’ll suddenly realize he made a mistake—don’t. Block him and go touch grass. And in case you missed it, you’re listening to Sawyer Montgomery on WZNY, where the advice is questionable, the music is petty, and only those holding a grudge are welcome?—”
He clicked the radio off fast, his body tensing as silence descended.
“Oh my God.” Sawyer dragged a hand over his face, heat creeping into his cheeks. “That did not just happen.”
I leaned over and gently pulled his hand away, and when he glanced over at me, I bit back a smile. “That you?”
“No. No, that was…someone else. A different Sawyer. A distant relative, maybe.”
“Sounded like you.”
He exhaled, and it came out like a groan. “Okay, fine. Yes, that’s me, but in my defense, it’s been a rough few weeks.”
“Understandable.” I paused, then added, “I knew you sounded familiar.”
His head snapped toward me. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”