Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Then he walks off with Hunter, and Sawyer and I are left in tense silence. Though I’m tempted to stand and finish the second half of my run, I don’t want to concede this victory to him. If he feels awkward then he should be the one to leave. I’m perfectly able to sit at Doc’s and enjoy a Corona with Hunter. I like Hunter; he’s never banished me from his family’s vineyard.
I chance a quick peek in Sawyer’s direction and find he’s looking devastatingly handsome. What’s new? He’s wearing a black Starlight Vineyards t-shirt and jeans, and his brown hair is a little sweaty; he must have just come from work. He’s crossed his arms and his gaze is intently focused on the creek. It’s like I’m not even here.
Hunter comes slinking back with the beers, limes already squeezed into them. He sees Sawyer standing behind his chair and laughs. “Just going to hover there like an idiot?”
Sawyer shoots him a lethal glare then wrenches one of the bottles out of his hands and takes a seat in the chair farthest from mine. If he could sit on the other side of the deck and still talk to Hunter—and only Hunter—he would.
I look toward the creek and, almost instantaneously, I feel Sawyer’s gaze on me.
Ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. We’re playing some game here and I don’t like it. I don’t know the rules or the objective, but he’s twisting my stomach into a knot and I know this second beer is going to go down even faster than the first.
“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Hunter notes.
Neither of us replies.
“That Astros game was pretty crazy last night. Stayed up way too late watching it.”
We do nothing but lift our beers to our mouths.
“I had a dream last night that I was on a pirate ship and Denzel Washington was the captain.”
I’m helpless but to laugh.
“Denzel Washington?” I remark.
He leans forward, glad he got a reaction out of me. “Yes. Remember the Titans Denzel, but also he had the beard and hair of the guy in Pirates of the Caribbean.” He shudders like the image doesn’t sit right with him. “Weird dream, man. What about y’all? You guys have any good dreams?”
He’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel here for conversation topics, so I’m surprised when Sawyer actually replies, “Madison was in my dream last night.”
Excuse me? I sit up straight, beer practically sputtering out of my mouth.
“Oh, really? Was she a pirate captain too?” Hunter jokes.
Sawyer’s brown eyes pierce mine.
“No.”
This one word is all he has to say about the matter. Infuriating.
“You’re not going to elaborate?” I ask, breaking the invisible wall and talking to him directly for the first time since he arrived.
He shrugs, unbothered and arrogant.
“Was this dream PG-13?” Hunter inquires with an innocent smile.
Sawyer grins down at his beer, but he doesn’t reply.
Oh my god. I hate him.
“That’s such a weird coincidence, Sawyer, because you were in my dream last night too.” I deliver this revelation with an abundance of sarcastic bewilderment. I’m not even trying to be a good actress.
Sawyer’s eyebrows furrow with annoyance, but Hunter’s smiling gleefully. “Really?! What are the odds?”
He knows the odds, but he doesn’t care. He likes where this is going.
“Yes! It was the craziest thing… The details are a little fuzzy.” The details aren’t fuzzy; they’re nonexistent, so I improvise. “Sawyer was wearing a Speedo.” No, not good enough. I snap my fingers. “No wait, a Tarzan-style loincloth. It only covered the front bits and bobs. Your butt was just hanging out.”
Sawyer snorts, but Hunter waves for me to go on.
“Anyway, I had just gotten married to that one actor from The Last of Us.” I look imploringly at Hunter. “What’s his name?”
“Pedro Pascal,” Sawyer provides, sounding bored.
“Yes! We were married and he was totally obsessed with me—we were about to leave for our honeymoon when you showed up, Sawyer, in that loincloth.” I’m so invested now it’s like I’m trying for an Oscar. “It’s hard to remember all of it. You know how it is with dreams, but you were bawling your eyes out and groveling down on your hands and knees, which was awkward, of course, because of the loincloth situation…”
“Of course,” Sawyer notes, expression trained into neutral indifference.
Hunter is choking on his laughter.
“And you were begging and begging for me to accept your apology.”
My one-and-a-half beers have started to take their effect. My cheeks are heated and I’m biting back my smile.
Sawyer’s brow arches sardonically. “Now see? That’s how I know it was a dream. The loincloth is believable enough. I like to roleplay as much as the next guy, but apologizing to you?” He stares straight at me. “Never gonna happen.”
Hunter puffs out a breath like he’s trying to diffuse the situation.