How is he that relaxed? The man spent all day fighting bulls, managed to run my ex out of town, and then kicks back like he’s got nothing but time. The audacity.
I drop into a chair across from him, crossing one leg over the other like it’ll steady me. It doesn’t.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper. “Today.”
He doesn’t look at me right away. Just grabs his drink, takes a slow sip, then lets the glass hang from his fingertips. “Don’t take kindly to any man puttin’ hands on a woman. Especially you.”
He meant that. I feel it. And something in mystomach flips.
He sits up, then reaches into his back pocket and adds. “Oh—before I forget.”
Something glints in the low light as he tosses it over to me. I catch it—barely—and nearly drop the thing when I see what it is.
Harrison’s Rolex.
The one he’d rather polish than listen to me talk about literally anything.
My mouth falls open. “You didn’t.”
He shrugs, all lazy like he didn’t just do the impossible. “He wasn’t usin’ it to keep track of what matters, anyway.”
A smile spreads across my face. I stand, place the watch on the ground, and bring my heel down with a satisfyingcrunch. The glass shatters and Isqueal—like actually let out a little laugh-scream—and Trouble just watches, lips slowly curving into a smile.
“Damn, that felt good,” I breathe, looking down at the broken pieces. “You have no idea how long I’ve pictured doing that.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he says, then nods to my heel.
“Oh, you’re safe for now.” I lean forward, eyes gleaming. “In fact, after what you did today? I’d say you earned yourself a thank you.”
He raises a brow, lazy-like. “Is that so?”
“Mmhmm.”
“And how you plannin’ to thank me, Sawyer?”
“I could think of a real good way to thank you. Give you one you won’t forget. And since my time here’s running short… I might have to thank you a few times.”
His gaze flickers to my mouth, but he doesn’t move.
I smile, pretending my pulse isn’t going haywire.
“Still going back to Chicago then?”
“Of course, I am. I still have a life there. And I really thought we’d be kissing by now.”
He grins, sharp and cocky. “You mean a kiss that don’t mean nothin’?”
“Exactly,” I tease, biting my lip. “One of those no-strings, could-happen-with-anyone kinda kisses.”
“And you’re sure you’re not catchin’ feelings?”
Me? Feelings?Like I don’t spend half my day wondering what he’s doing, or how he somehow makes a pair of Wrangler jeans look like a Calvin Klein ad.
“Not a chance,” I say, tilting my head. “Why? You worried I’m gonna start using that word you hate so much?”
“No,” he says, softly. “Because I am.”
Who does he think he is, trying to make me melt into a smile pile of mush? He can’t just go and say things like that.
