I pulled out my phone, distracting myself by looking up my father’s recipe for Alfredo sauce. “It’s possible. Though, if you really wanted to be useful, you could grate some parmesan for me.”
“You could buy it already grated.”
“Or you could obey me for once,” I snapped, setting the pot on the big burner.
When I was greeted with silence, I turned to find Hen gaping up at me.
“What?”
“Did you just tell me toobeyyou?” he asked, his voice pitched up in disbelief.
Fuck, I had. I nearly groaned, visualizing Hen under me, obeying my every command… “Shut up,” I muttered, salting the water.
“Mm-hmm. I’ll cooperate, because I’m craving pasta after all the vegetables you’ve been shoving down my throat, but we will be returning to this subject.”
“Just grate the parmesan, you menace,” I said, hip-checking him.
This man was going to be the death of me.
CHAPTER 7
hendrix
I felt itchy watching Sawyer stand in front of the hall mirror, sliding into his beautifully crafted blazer as he prepared to visit Major. Ren had come by yesterday to check on us and I’d overheard Sawyer grousing that his boss had spent the last two weeks nagging him to get out more often.
I suspected that DB’s actual recommendation had been to take a break fromme. Fair, but… ouch. Either way, I was tickled that Sawyer was getting a dose of his own medicine, especially when Ren had agreed with DB.
“So, are you and Major a thing?” I asked, catching his eye through the reflection.
His laugh was almost bitter. “No. Major is one of my oldest and dearest friends.”
“But y’all used to fuck in high school, right?”
He sent me a sharp look in the mirror. “Not many people know that.”
“Caught y’all making out in his truck once, remember?”
“Right. I forgot.” Tensing his jaw, he said, “We were learning about our queerness together. But we quickly figured out that we were better off as friends.”
I gestured at his expensive outfit. “Then why are you dressed up like you’re going on a date with him?”
He tugged at his collar, like maybe he wanted a tie. Honestly, I was surprised he was willing to leave the house without one. “Saturday morning isn’t the time one goes on a date.”
“You’re a weird bird, Sawyer Finch.”
He glanced at me, smoothed down his lapels, and made his way outside.
I often had a hard time reading the man, but something about that line of questioning had bothered him. Actually, he’d been bothered ever since I’d picked something up in thatobeycomment the night he’d made tortellini Alfredo.
Whatever, Agnes. Keep your secrets and go visit your old fuck buddy. I don’t need you here to harangue me.
Ten minutes into solitude, though, and I was climbing the walls. Luckily, the day before, Ren and Holden had dropped off the junked-out truck Mr. Paige had used when caring for the cabins.
“It looks like shit, but it’s got a full tank and an engine that runs,” Ren had said before getting into Holden’s car.
Lending me the truck was a nice gesture, but I hadn’t thought much of it until I had to listen to the sound of my own breathing. Grabbing the keys from the entryway table, I locked the cabin door and climbed into the rusting, mid-80s Toyota 4x4.
As Ren had promised, the engine fired up right away, and I briefly considered the fact that I hadn’t had an American driver’s license in at least six or seven years. Ah, well. There were a few benefits to having your dad be the sheriff. Not exactly sure where I’d end up, I pointed the truck toward downtown Seguin. I circled Central Park, admiring the new businesses that had popped up around the tiny town square. Allie’s coffee shop caught my eye, and I found an open parking space half a block down.
