Was the only reason Dad asked what I was doing because it conflicted with somethinghewanted me to do?
Would anyone else have cared as long as Grandma got her pills on time?
Sure feels like it.
I kick a rock through the dust on the way to the barn. It’s so damn hot and dry out here, I see why I have to oil up the saddles.
It’d be such a perfect job for Grandpa since he likes to sit most of the day anyhow.
But nope, good ol’ dependable Sawyer will get it done.
Chapter 8
Val
Five ‘til. I wonderif he’s going to be late? He’s usually here by now.
With one minute to go, he rushes through the door breathlessly, glancing at the large clock face above the bar.
“Shit, Grandma’s slower than molasses on ice,” he grumbles, heading to the sink.
“What does your grandmother have to do with almost being late?” I know he wasn’t, technically.
But still worth giving him a little shit over considering he’s almost always been fifteen minutes early.
“I had to take her to the pharmacy to get her meds.No oneelse was available. Not even herdoctorson.” His blue eyes roll towards the ceiling as he scrubs.
Fighting the smirk at his melodrama is an Olympic event.
“So you’re like the errand boy? Cute.” I have the right employee then. Better than my sullen-ass brother who fought me every step.
Sawyer’s shoulders rise and fall with a big sigh. “I guess. I mean, I don’t mind. It just kinda sucks that they just expect it.”
I’ve noticed that when he starts getting down on himself, his lower lip sticks out in a subtle pout.
He glances at the order rack. “Oh, no food yet?”
“Nope. Slow so far. I’m going to catch up on cutting fruit. I’d like you to restock before it gets busy.” I dig out the tub of limes from the cooler and prop them on my hip.
His easy grin raises his cheek. “Sure, no problem. Liquor then beer?”
“Never fear,” I quip out of habit.
But his nose wrinkles. “Huh?”
When I laugh and push through the swinging doors, he follows me like a puppy.
“The saying is ‘liquor then beer, never fear. Beer then liquor, never sicker’.” Dropping the plastic container on the bartop, I wipe down the cutting board before pulling out a paring knife.
“What does that mean?” His fingers scratch the back of his neck while his forehead furrows.
I can’t resist pointing at the knot between his eyebrows. “Sheesh, kid. Didn’t anyone teach you about drinking?”
Red flushes up his cheeks, but he shakes his head.
“Don’t mix drinks. That’s the best advice to avoid a hangover. And stay away from the sweet shit.” I wave the tiny blade in his direction, then point at the stairs. “Hell, that’s the answer tolife,too. Remember that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His words drift behind him as he disappears through the door.
