Page 37 of Good Directions

The screen door slides open, stealing my attention. It’s impossible not to look with the sun reflecting off Sawyer’s hair, making it shimmer like the lake on a hot summer’s day. She blows at that rogue strand out of the corner of her mouth, her hands full of a plate of beignets, hot out of the frying pan and smothered in powdered sugar.

That’s when it hits me.

“Sawyer.”

That lie flows out even easier than the first. Shit, you’d think I practiced this.

“What?” She looks up, more than a little caught off guard that we’re talking about her.

“Sawyer’s my date for the wedding.”

Sawyer freezes, looking like a deer in the headlights of a Mack truck, the plate of fried goodness balancing precariously in her hands.

Shit…

“Sawyer,” Jace repeats, pointing at Mama’s houseguest. “Sawyer here is accompanying you to our sister’s wedding?”

“Yup.”

If I can convince her…

Sawyer tries to move, taking a step forward. The full plate shakes as she moves, each step as slow and purposeful as if she were walking a tightrope. I stand, reaching out in an offer to help, startling her.

Letting out a squeak, Sawyer jumps, the plate shifting. We both move, trying to save the dessert, with Sawyer’s arms catching it before I do, pulling it against her. Shit.

Slowly, she moves her arms down, the plate and the powdered creations shifting back into place, leaving behind a mess on her shirt.

Gus stands up, taking the plate from her. Turning to her, I smile as nicely as I can, but I know that it comes out forced. And probably more than a little scary. Because shit, I am scared. Scared that I lied so easily to my family. That I drug her into this. That I embarrassed her in front of all my brothers.

That she’s going to lose her shit on me like a honey badger and claw my eyes out.

“I should change,” she murmurs, backing away.

“Sawyer.” I try to stop her, but she’s too quick, slipping through the screen door before I can even take a step.

Fuck.

“It’s generally helpful if your date is in on it,” Hux comments.

“Shut it!” I head to the door, stopping short, second-guessing if I should follow her or not. I need to. Because I need to make this right. Need to get her on my side.

I leave my brothers behind, the whole lot of them laughing at something. Probably me. But I have bigger things to worry about right now.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I’m on the top landing in a flash, making my way to my room as if on autopilot. I’m twisting the handle and through the door before it occurs to me that it’s not my room anymore—and not just because I haven’t lived here in over a decade.

It’s her room.

And she’s not wearing a shirt.

Shit.

“Have you not heard of knocking?”

Sawyer whips around, hands covering her bra-clad chest. My whole body reacts— brain short-circuiting as every bit of blood coursing through me rushes straight to my dick. I blink, spinning back to face the hallway, trying to right myself. Not an easy feat. I might have only gotten point six seconds of a look, but now her boobs in that little black bra is all I’m going to be able to think about.

Not good when you have to work with someone.

And she already hates you.