Sawyer shifts, and I see her, a woman I don’t recognize.
She wears a patchwork jacket, and bangs peek just below a purple cloche hat. Thick cat-eye glasses accentuate her dramatic eye makeup. Her red lips are perfectly lined.
I’m struck stupid by how insanely cool she looks. Then by the fact that they look like a couple. On a date.
What’s Dev doing with someone else whenwe’regoing on a date?
I feel Sawyer’s eyes on me. I don’t look. His smugness would only add to my rapidly growing mortification as my confusion takes a backseat.
Dev gets closer. The moment he registers Sawyer, his expression turns bewildered, almost concerned.
They shake hands.
“Hey, man.” Dev’s usual affability is layered with caution as he keeps his attention on me.
That is, until he introduces us to Harvest, who lives over the mountain in Seneca Falls.
Harvest.
Her name isHarvest.
Oh hell. The name triggers a fuzzy memory from Jolly Jalapeño of Dev mentioning dinner at Angelica’s . . . and now I remember Dev mentioning something about a harvest in the same sentence.
My tipsy ass skipped over it and shouted, “I’d love to go with you!”
My eyes dart around as panic climbs up my chest. My skin itches.
I invited myself on Dev’s date tonight. It was never supposed to be him and me.
I visibly cringe.
Is there a manhole I can crawl into? I would happily live the rest of my days with giant sewer rats if I could escape this moment right now.
“You’re having dinner with us?” Dev asks Sawyer judiciously.
The wordsabsolutely fucking notare in my throat when Sawyer says, “Yeah, I am.” He lifts up the box of screws. “Let me just take this to my truck.”
Oh, hell no.
I follow him to the red truck, barely registering that I misidentified it before.
He opens the door, and I step close to him.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “No way you’re?—”
His hand comes up, cupping my chin, effectively shutting me up.
Sawyer’s voice is a deep rasp with no hint of teasing. “I’m going to eat dinner with my old buddy, Dev.” His eyes drop to my lips for a second before rising. “I’m starving.”
When I regain my voice, I blurt out, “You had plans, though.” I point dumbly at his box of screws. “Or what about friends, you could go out with friends tonight. You have lots of those.” I swallow. “Or your dad. Be a good son, go to dinner with him.”
Any idiot could piece together that what I thought was a date between me and Dev is actually very much a date between Dev and Harvest, with a side of Brie. And Sawyer’s no idiot.
I’m already busy coming up with excuses to leave Dev to his date. I don’t have the energy to worry about whatever Sawyer has up his sleeve, too.
His eyes dim, and he drops his hand. “These are for tomorrow.” He tosses the screws onto the passenger seat. “Idon’t have plans with any friends. And dinner with my dad is the last thing I want.”
A fist squeezes in my stomach. I don’t want him to come. My embarrassment is already heavy, but with Sawyer there, it’ll only get worse. He’ll do something to make me wish I could find a cannon that’ll shoot me into space.
