Page 81 of His Reckoning

Which probably means I lost that round.

Chapter Fifteen

Kayla

Ishould probably stop hanging out in the kitchen when Sawyer is home. It seems to be where all of our problems start.

Tonight is no exception.

I’m leaning against the island, pretending to scroll through something on my laptop, when he walks in from the hallway—sleeves rolled up, like always, and tie loosened, like the day annoyed him.

He stops when he sees me. “You’re still awake.”

“I live here.”

“Temporary housing situation.”

I smile faintly. He moves to the refrigerator, grabs a bottle of water, and leans against the counter across from me.

The kitchen lights are low. Just the pendant lamps over the island. Everything feels quieter at night in this place.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says.

I blink. “That’s dramatic.”

“You left the kitchen yesterday.”

“You stepped toward me like you were about to interrogate me.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

“Sure.”

He watches me for a moment, completely still.

Sawyer has this way of looking at people like he already knows more than they do.

Except lately, that focus has started feeling a little too personal.

It’s been more focused and personal.

I already know exactly why getting comfortable with him is a terrible idea. Only assholes have money. Rich men are arrogant. Entitled. Completely convinced the world belongs to them.

And Sawyer Maccini is no better.

He’s successful, controlled, and infuriatingly confident. Which means the fact that I’ve been noticing things about him lately is a problem.

Like the way he goes quieter when he’s irritated. Or how his voice drops when he’s annoyed. Or how he keeps looking at me like he’s trying to solve something.

“You keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to win an argument I can’t hear.”

His eyebrows raise. “Have you learned nothing about me?”

“That excuse doesn’t make it any less weird.”