“I know, I know,” he continues quickly, picking up speed. “It’s probably not the right time. I mean, you’ve got Charlie, and I know we haven’t spent much time together yet, and?—”
I cut him off, holding up a hand of my own.
“Wait. Wait, wait.” I take a step closer, feeling something shift in the space between us. “You… like me?”
Sawyer nods, looking at me with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “Yeah. I do. I’ve liked you for a while now. And I know this might be completely out of the blue, but I couldn’t just… keep pretending I don’t.”
I’m silent, watching him, his eyes earnest and a little unsure, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath without even noticing.
“Well,” I say, finally breaking the silence with a grin. “I guess this is a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”
Sawyer’s eyes brighten.
“Yeah?” His voice softens, and he takes a small step toward me, his hand almost brushing mine.
There’s a moment where everything slows down, where the distance between us feels impossibly small, the air charged.
I can see the uncertainty in his eyes, but also the excitement. He’s not sure if this moment is real, but he’s willing to find out.
I open my mouth to say something about how complicated this is, about Clint and Reid. Or maybe just to let him know that, yes, I feel the same, that I’ve been waiting for him to say it, when—bang, bang, bang—another set of knocks sounds at the door, sharp and insistent.
I freeze. We arenevergoing to kiss, are we?
Sawyer blinks, his eyes flicking to the door in confusion. My stomach sinks. Who else could possibly be here now?
“Are you kidding me?” I mutter under my breath, glancing back at Sawyer.
He gives a wry smile, trying to hide his disappointment. “I swear, I’ve never had worse timing in my life.”
I roll my eyes, about to turn toward the door when he reaches out, his hand brushing mine again, this time on purpose, fingers lingering just a moment too long. I look at him, heart hammering.
Before I can say anything, I force myself to turn away. What is happening? I rub my temple and mutter, “I swear I’m going to lose it.”
I yank open the door, my patience fraying.
And there, standing in the doorway, is Reid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Clint
“Marshall dida good job with Friendsgiving this year, don’t you think?” Red asks as he clinks his glass against mine, the sound sharp in the otherwise low murmur of the bar.
I glance around at the familiar faces and the flickering lights of the Silver Bit Tavern. It’s one of those places that feels homely.
“Yeah, he did,” I grunt, tapping my glass against his. “But there’s nothing better than a drink here at the end of the day. You’re right about that.”
Red laughs, that deep, gravelly chuckle that always shows me we’re on the same wavelength, even when we’re not saying much.
“Hell, you and me both. I’m telling you, Clint, there’s no better way to spend Thanksgiving than with a beer in your hand and the sound of the jukebox in the background. Just the way we like it, right?”
I nod, watching the low amber light from the hanging fixtures warm the dark wood of the bar. The place is cozy, familiar in all the best ways, but tonight feels… different.
Maybe it’s because I’ve got more on my mind than just the usual ranch business. My thoughts keep drifting to Dakota, and that unsettles me in a way I don’t know how to explain.
“I suppose,” I say, lifting my glass and taking another swig. The bitterness of the beer matches the knot tightening in my stomach. “Though I wouldn’t mind the quiet for once. No ranch, no cattle, no… just me.”
Red tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “You’re talking like you’re trying to avoid something. What’s eatin’ you, Clint? You seem off tonight. Not like you.”
