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)
“You tell Hunter you kicked me off the vineyard yesterday?”
Sawyer’s eyes spark with the challenge. When I look over, Hunter shakes his head, crossing his arms over his wide chest. His eyes are half-lidded, evidence of his fourth beer. “Sure didn’t tell me. I hope it’s not true.”
I turn back to Sawyer, quirking a brow, waiting for him to fess up. Sawyer’s gaze lingers on my face, taking me in with so much interest I almost blush. I swear there’s yearning there; it’s like he wants to keep ahold of me but doesn’t know how.
“He said I’m never allowed to step foot on the property again,” I continue with a slow-spreading smile. “Am I the first person in Oak Hill history to be banned from Starlight Vineyards?”
Sawyer actually chuckles. “No. That privilege belongs to my grandfather’s old friend. Crawford caught him cheating during a game of cards. You’re the second person.”
“An honor,” I quip with a mocking bow. “Come on, Hunter, you’re up.”
“You think I can play darts right now? I’m ’bout to fall asleep at this table. Dammit, give ’em here.”
He shoves off his barstool and takes his turn, and though the darts manage to make it onto the board, they’re nowhere near the center. “Oh hell. I think that’s my sign to move on. I’m walking home.”
Ah, the perks of living in a small town. Hunter’s house is only a few streets over from Doc’s. He’ll be lying in bed sleeping off his buzz in fifteen minutes flat.
“That’s probably my cue too.”
I pat my backside as if I’m looking for my wallet and keys only to remember I ran here. No room for a wallet in my thin tank top and running shorts.
“Quitting on me?” Sawyer taunts.
I laugh as I fling my hand toward the dartboard. “You think I could possibly make a comeback? You’re so far ahead it’s embarrassing!”
“All right, so we’ll play something else.”
Hunter comes around to give me a side hug. “Bye, you two. Sawyer, you got Madison?”
“Madison has Madison,” I reply with gumption. “I’ll get home just fine. Bye, Hunter!”
I do have plans to go home; it’s late and I’m not sure what I’d hope to gain by staying here alone with Sawyer. But he convinces me to at least clean up the darts, and once we do that, there’s another good song playing over the stereo, “Heads Carolina, Tails California” by Jo Dee Messina. I tell myself I can’t leave until it’s over, and then Sawyer convinces me to partner up with him in Spades against Lee and Waylon. The two of us stare at each other across the table, acting like we’ve got some secret code.
“No table talk, you two,” Waylon grumbles.
“They’re not saying shit, they’re flirting with each other,” Lee remarks, throwing down an ace of hearts and winning the trick before sweeping the cards into a clean pile in front of him.
I roll my eyes. “We’re not flirting. I hate him.”
“Can’t stand her,” Sawyer tacks on in agreement.
“Oh yeah? I’ve seen this kind of hate before…” Lee laughs with a shake of his head.
I frown, trying to discern what he could possibly mean, and I’m no closer to figuring it out when the game is over (Lee and Waylon beat us handily), not even when Sawyer and I are walking out of Doc’s, bumping shoulders and trying to bite down our smiles.
“How’d you get here?” I ask him.
He nods toward his truck. “You ran?”
I tug on my tank top. “Why else would I be dressed like this?”
“I don’t know, but it’s been distracting as hell all night. Those little shorts…”
“What about them?”
He doesn’t say a word.
I haven’t even registered that he’s leading me over to his truck until he’s opening the passenger door for me. I laugh at the gesture. “I don’t want a ride from you! You’re my enemy. For all I know, you’ll drive me halfway to Mexico then kick me out on the side of the highway.”
“Well now that you’ve guessed my plan, I’ll have to come up with something else,” he drawls teasingly. “Hop in, Madison.”
I shimmy onto the seat and let him close the door behind me. He curves around the back of his truck, thumps the tailgate twice, and then opens his door. He climbs in, but he doesn’t start the engine. Why would he? He doesn’t want to take me anywhere. If he could, he’d toss the keys out the window and lose them in the grass.
His truck is parked way off in a cluster of oak trees, far enough from Doc’s front door that it feels plenty secluded. The dark windows are tinted and the moon’s not so bright tonight; we’ve lucked out.
Sawyer looks over the center console at me, and I don’t shy away from his intent gaze. Maybe he hasn’t forgiven me, but it’s clear he wants me. I stare at his lips and declare, “I don’t want to talk any more tonight.”