Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
It seemed so impossible. For someone to seem like “everything I wanted,” they would have to have…
Well, this.
They would have to get along with me as well as I got along with my best friend.
I couldn’t imagine feeling more at home anywhere other than here, cozy on the couch with a person who knew me better than I knew myself.
So why did it suddenly feel like I shouldn’t have joked to Harlan about being my one-and-only?
3
HARLAN
I pulled off my green flannel shirt and tossed it onto a patio table.
“Hotter than hell,” I said, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm and squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “There’s still snow on the ground this early in April and I’m out here working up a sweat.”
“Moving furniture for an hour will do that,” Charlie said, setting down a stack of chairs next to me.
We’d been clearing off the back deck at Jade Brewery today, and everyone was chipping in where they could. It had been a week since the Fixer Brothers had offered Sawyer a spot on their team, and today was the first day that all of them arrived as a team here at the brewery to begin the renovation process.
And this place felt more like a TV set today than a brewery. The Fixer Brothers’ TV show camera crew were swarming all over the back yard and patio, with big rigs and equipment pointing in every direction. The back patio was usually a chill place, with the big, wooden deck, lights strung up along the slats above, and plenty of grass and pine trees along the surrounding area. The crew wanted to capture some “before” footage for their eventual before-and-after shots, and now we were moving all of the furniture to make way for demolition tomorrow.
“The flannel is off. Now you’re working hard,” Sawyer said from across the patio, winking at me.
He was in his element. I could tell Sawyer was happy to finally have something to do again after so much had changed for him over the past week.
I’d also never met someone who liked physical labor half as much as Sawyer did. It was just another thing that made him him. Unique, baffling, and incredible as always.
“Damn, you look good in a T-shirt,” one of the camera guys said, glancing over at me. He had white-blond hair with one streak of bright blue dyed into it. “I liked the lumberjack look, but the tight white shirt….” He let out a whistle, looking me up and down.
“Thank you,” I told him. “I knew you said the flannel looked good on the camera, but I was overheating. I’m not a fun person if I overheat.”
The camera guy laughed. “The flannel is great, but your muscles are great, too. We’ll have plenty of good shots for the show.”
Sawyer shot a glance at the guy, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I scanned the patio for more furniture to move. The camera guy had seemed chatty today, but when I was at work, I was usually focused on my work itself.
“I’m Chase, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to me. The blue streak in his hair caught the sunlight as he smiled at me.
“Harlan,” I said as I shook his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he told me, his eyes lingering on me a little before he went off to capture some “before” footage of the lawn.
Sawyer came to my side, stretching his arms. “Damn. That guy was laying it on thick, wasn’t he?” he said in a low voice.
“He probably just wants to get free beer after we finish filming.”
Sawyer snorted. “You never seem to notice when guys are obviously flirting with you,” he said.
I met his gaze, then glanced over toward Chase again. “He’s being equally friendly to Nathan and Shawn and Charlie. I think he's just a nice guy. Buttering me up so that I seem happier on camera, maybe.”
Sawyer shrugged, a mischievous look hitting his eyes. “I’m just saying. You could probably take him home tonight. Show him what those big, big muscles do—”
I gave him a little shove. “I’ll show you what these muscles do when I toss you off this deck.”
“Come on. I’m sure Mr. Chase Pretty-boy Blue-Hair could show you a good time, Harlan.”
“Not my type.”
“You don’t have a type.”
I gave him a hard glance.
Yes I do, and it’s you, Sawyer Hendricks.
After knowing him for as long as I had, though, I was used to ignoring just how true that was. Sawyer was my type, but it was useless to dwell on a straight guy.
“I’m ready for all of these cameras to be out of here, anyway,” I said. “The brewery feels like a circus today compared to usual.”
“We’re almost done. Come help me move the heaters from the edge of the deck.”