Page 36 of Sawyer

I pulled my sleeve back down, trying to brush it off. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just an old scar.”

But the way Sawyer looked at me told me he wasn’t going to let it go that easily. His usual calm had shifted, and I could see a protective glint in his eyes.

I swallowed, feeling a knot in my throat. “It’s from my ex. He kind of lost it on me one day. It was stupid, really—just a fight over some dirty dishes.” I forced a chuckle, trying to play it off. “Guess I should’ve just done them, huh?”

Sawyer didn’t laugh. His grip tightened slightly on my hand, his calm exterior masking the anger I sensed simmering beneath.

“But it’s fine now,” I added quickly. “He’s got a mate, and I’ve moved on. I mean, I’m here with you, right?”

Sawyer blinked, his gaze softening as he looked at me. I wondered if I’d said too much.

I meant that I was in a better place now—better than when I first came to Pecan Pines.

But the words hung in the air, as if I were suggesting I’d moved on with him.

I thought about explaining, but before I could, Sawyer’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. Whatever he was thinking felt right, so I chose to let it go.

We hit two more bars before Sawyer brought me back to my apartment.

The night had flown by in a blur. It was hard to believe how comfortable I felt now.

The unease from earlier, when we’d left the first bar because of Garth, had faded, replaced by a warmth I couldn’t quite explain.

The alcohol buzzed in my veins, but it wasn’t just that—it was Sawyer.

His presence made everything feel a little lighter, a little brighter. I was pretty sure he was the buzz.

As we pulled up to my building, the night air had grown colder. I shivered slightly as I stepped out of the car.

We lingered by the door leading up to my apartment, and I was acutely aware of how close Sawyer was.

The chill bit at my skin, but his warmth made me want to lean in and soak it up.

“So, what did you think?” Sawyer asked.

I glanced at him, pretending to think for a moment. I squinted my eyes, tapping my chin playfully. “About what? You or the food?”

Sawyer chuckled, leaning against the doorframe of my building, his posture relaxed. “Good question.”

He smiled—that slow, lazy smile that always made my stomach flip—and pretended to consider his response.

“Well, you did say this wasn’t a date, right?” I added with a smug smirk, watching him closely.

He didn’t correct me—didn’t even acknowledge the tease. Instead, he answered as if I hadn’t said anything at all.

“The food.”

I grinned, playing along. “Well, the calamari was the best. Crispy, just the right amount of seasoning. The sliders at the third bar? Could’ve used a bit more kick, but the fries definitely made up for it.”

“And the last place?”

“Their wings were solid. Probably my favorite. The sauce had just the right balance of sweetness and heat.”

Sawyer nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes softened.

Before I could say anything else, he leaned in so close I could feel his breath—warm and intoxicating.

His earthy, familiar scent wrapped around me, and I felt myself drawn in, as if he was pulling me under some kind of spell.