Can’t be. No way. No fuckingway?—
“Sawyer!” Wyatt calls.
Oh my God it’s him.
And that’s his daughter playing with the plastic hammer. Ella isn’t his mom. She’s Sawyer’s daughter.
I’d laugh if I didn’t feel like I was about to vomit.Of coursehe’s a dad.
The offer to get me wipes, how he was always thinking ahead, anticipating needs. How he made sure I never went hungry or thirsty.
I’ve encountered very few married men who operate that way. But a single dad? Totally makes sense.
The little girl looks our way and immediately lights up, making a mad dash across the barn to hug Wyatt and Sally. “Uncle Wy! It’s Uncle Wy and Auntie Sally!”
June tugs on my hand. “Mommy, can I play with her?” she whispers.
The man—Sawyer—turns to fully face his brother. The dimples in his cheeks pop when he smiles, and I feel a vaguely familiar tingle in my knees.
“Hey, Wyatt,” he says. “Sally, it’s always a pleasure seeing yo …”
The word dies in his mouth when our gazes lock. Even in the dim light of the barn, the blue in his eyes is so piercing that I feel it like a knife through the chest.
“Hey!” It’s the only word I can seem to formulate.
A pink flush works its way up Sawyer’s thick neck. I notice his scruff is scruffier. His mustache isn’t as neatly trimmed as it was back in Austin. There are purple rings around his eyes.
He looks as overwhelmed and bone-tired as I feel.
“It’s … good to see you,” he says with a laugh, raising an arm to tug a hand through his hair. “Been a minute.”
How the hell have you been?
Do you ever think about me?
I can’t breathe, but somehow I manage to laugh too. “Yeah. Wow. What are the chances?”
Sally’s brows snap together. “Wait, do y’all know each other?”
Sawyer’s hand moves to the back of his head. He gives his hair a hard ruffle. “Funny enough, we do.”
CHAPTER12
Sawyer
HOTTER THAN A TWO-DOLLAR PISTOL
Well,fuck.
Ava in a Stetson?—
Just.
Fuck.
I stand there, metaphorical dick in my hand, and stare at her like a deranged asshole. I’m vaguely aware of the sights and sounds around us—Ella’s hair flying when Wyatt picks her up and tosses her into the air, the hiss of a nail gun—but really, I only seeher.
The girl I took home that night in Austin.
