Page 38 of Good Directions

“Sawyer, I’m sorry, I⁠—”

“What the fuck is your problem, Anton?”

Good question…

“Am I allowed to turn back around to answer that?” I ask.

“Depends. Are you going to look me in the eye?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Sawyer sighs. “Then yes. I’m clothed.”

I open my eyes, turning to face her. Her powdered sugar-covered tee is gone, replaced by the faded Roll Tide one she wore the day we met. There’s still a little evidence of the accident on her collarbone, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and dusting it off her.

“I’m sorry. I should have knocked. It’s not a good excuse, but I’m not used to having to do that walking into this room.”

“You’re right; that’s not a good reason.”

Damn, okay…she’s not going to give me any room here. Got it.

Stepping inside farther, I try to reduce the distance between us, both in physical space and emotionally. It’s the only hope I have to get her to help me out.

“About what you just heard…”

“That I’m your date to your sister’s wedding?”

“Yes.” I pause, trying to find the words. “I need you to please go along with it.”

“Why should I?”

Also a good question…

Sawyer crosses her arms, shifting those boobs I’m trying not to think about higher, short-circuiting my brain once more. It’s crystal clear that her tolerance for me is at an all-time low, and that whatever ground I thought I’d gained the other night at the Giddy Up is long gone. Which means there is only one thing left to do. Come clean.

Time to lay it all out there. Here goes nothing.

“I made a bet with my brothers that I could find a date to Willa’s wedding, but because of the shit-tastic peach season we’re having, that’s taken up all my attention, so I have let it slip.” There, that’s close enough to the truth. “And now it’s six weeks away and they’re all giving me shit about it, and well…I really need to not lose this bet. So please.”

Sawyer relaxes, her arms dropping, hands sliding into her pockets. Her exhale is soft as she looks me up and down, the weight of her attention still more than my dick can bear at the moment. If I didn’t think she’d slap me so hard it’d leave a handprint, I’d consider pulling her into me and seeing if she’s feeling this too.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Pardon?”

That wasn’t what I was expecting.

“If I do this, what’s in it for me?” she repeats.

“Ummmm…”

Other than a raging hard-on, right now I don’t know that I have anything to offer her. And based on our history so far, I am pretty sure she has zero interest in that—or anything else witty I might pull out of thin air.

“Well, you’re already one up in the secret department, so…what else do you want?”

Narrowing her eyes at me, she takes a large step toward me. My pulse does the long jump within my veins, threatening to stop altogether as she gets closer.

“I want a letter of recommendation.”