Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“How’s everything in here?” I singsong with an upbeat smile.
“Just fine—” Queenie reassures me at the same time that Lindsey replies, “Horrible!”
Queenie tosses up her hands and leaves us in the kitchen, mumbling about going out for a cigarette. (Queenie’s never smoked a day in her life.)
I slink in and take my spot near Lindsey, delivering sympathetic nods and a perfectly timed “You’re kidding me” while she drones on about the bags for the next ten minutes. To be perfectly honest, I work in the wedding industry—where specific shades and color families matter a lot—and even I can’t tell the difference between the color red she was hoping for and the color red she got.
The first breath she takes, I strike.
“Lindsey, I can tell how much effort you’ve put into this party.” This isn’t even a lie. My hands still ache from tying off balloons last night. Lindsey barely let us take bathroom breaks. “You want everything to be perfect for Cruz’s birthday, don’t you?”
Her eyes widen with worry. “I know I’m being crazy. It’s just all my mom friends go all out and you should have seen the party Mary Beth threw for Evelyn last month. There was a petting zoo and a snow cone truck! The kids left with custom Evelyn swag.”
“Yeah well, Mary Beth is a materialistic buffoon if you ask me. She was always like that, even back in school—” I realize I’ve deviated from my plan and quickly reroute. “But wow that party does sound special. Bet Cruz loved it. Now, your party is well on its way to being just as great, something the kids and parents will be talking about for years to come.” I wince as I continue, “There’s just one itty-bitty problem.”
Her hands reach out to grip my biceps and she shakes me a little in panic. “WHAT? Did David not get enough beer? I told him to get a few dozen cases!”
I grab her arms, holding her steady. “No. The beer is taken care of. I just think we might need to take another look at the guest list.”
Her face betrays her confusion. I’m sure she’s invited all of Cruz’s little baby friends and their moms, her side of the family, and ours.
“Sawyer,” I mouth, trying to keep this conversation on the quiet side. If David hears, he’ll try to intervene.
Her brows furrow. “What about Sawyer? He’s getting the barbecue.”
“I can get the barbecue. That’s no problem. I just think…is Sawyer really someone we can trust? What with his dangerous past?”
She rears back in shock, and I realize I’ve accidentally laid it on too strong. I’ve made it seem like Sawyer’s a criminal.
“I mean can he really get the barbecue on time? He’s always running late.”
I’ve completely made this up. For all I know, Sawyer’s the timeliest person we know, but my seed of doubt has its intended effect. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, moments from calling Sawyer and kicking him off the guest list, but then Cruz comes barreling into the kitchen wailing.
Petey, Lindsey’s younger brother, rushes in after him. “Right, okay, I know it looks like a lot of blood, but it’s really not that bad!”
Cruz’s skinned knee takes precedence over my warnings about Sawyer as Lindsey scoops up her son and carries him into the bathroom so she can clean him up.
“Petey, you had one job!” Lindsey groans.
“We were playing outside just like you wanted!” Petey argues. “How was I supposed to know a one-year-old can’t ride a bicycle?”
I’m alone in the kitchen now, trying to come up with a new, better plan of attack when the back door opens and the smell of smoked meat foretells the imminent arrival of my new nemesis. I take a deep breath and prepare myself as best as possible, but it’s futile. Sawyer walks in from the mudroom with his arms full of foil to-go platters. They’re stacked so high he doesn’t see me until he slides them onto the kitchen island and steps back.
We’re only a few feet apart when his brown eyes lock with mine and his gaze narrows. “You could have helped me.”
My gaze narrows right back at him. “Looked like you were doing just fine by yourself.”
“There’s potato salad and beans in the car. Iced tea too,” he says with a bad attitude. He expects me to hop to it when he left me out in that field last night? If so, he’s delusional.
“Well then you’d better go get them,” I say, adding a little snark of my own.
He grunts in disgust and leaves to go retrieve it all without my help.
I’m not trying to be overly petty; I just need a second. I turn back and grip the counter, squeeze my eyes closed, and try to slow my racing heart. It’s no use; I see Sawyer behind my closed lids. He had a haircut this morning, but his short chestnut brown strands still have a slight wave to them. His square jaw is clean-shaven and sexy. His warm brown eyes have never felt more lethal. Thank god he didn’t smile. A girl can only take so much.