Page 81 of Good Directions

“Nope. Just thinking about how my peaches may have sucked this year, but my nuts are gonna be superb.”

My oldest brother groans, rolling his eyes as he sits back in his chair. He should have seen that one coming.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Ewan counters. “Your nuts?”

“I’m certainly not thinking about your nuts. And considering that you⁠—”

A sharp smack to the side of my shoulder steals my attention, cutting me off, the sting radiating down my arm. I look up to see Sawyer’s disapproving face staring down at me.

“Knock it off. What’d he do to you?”

“Baby brother…” I remind her.

“Pssh.” She waves me off, as if my siblings get zero passes. “Be nice.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I argue, itching to play fight with her. To get her all riled up, just to see what she’ll do in front of my family.

She doesn’t bite though, rolling her eyes as she turns to go. I grab her hand, trying to stop her, and she looks back at me, holding my gaze. The world stops, all the noise and people fading into the background, leaving only us and the sound of my rushing pulse. This woman absolutely has me hypnotized.

“Sawyer, are you a cheese on your burger kind of gal?” Auggie asks, breaking our spell.

“I am,” she answers, letting go of my hand and walking over to the grill.

My eyes follow, watching as she and my father chat in hushed voices, as he moves things around the grill. Her laugh floats along the air, and I can’t help but zone out, loving how she’s seamlessly woven herself into my family.

“I’m telling you that the little factoid that all the clocks are set to 4:20 in Pulp Fiction is a myth, because there is a scene where the clock next to Butch’s head is set to 11:58,” Ewan exclaims, so emphatically you’d think he was defending his point in court. “Look it up on the Internet if you don’t believe me.”

I turn back to the table, confused how we got on to this topic. Ewan is staring at the group, wide-eyed and incredulous, as if he can’t fathom that no one believes him. Really, he should know better. Dolly, having appeared out of nowhere, is perched in Hux’s lap, furiously tapping away at her phone.

“Sure enough, right here, famous movie bloopers. It was supposed to be set to 4:20, but they goofed it.”

“Told you. Every now and again I’m allowed to know something,” Ewan grumbles.

“Only when it comes to fishing and hunting,” I tease.

He flips me a single finger salute so quickly and so automatically, you’d almost think it was on autopilot.

“Then from here on out, you’re only allowed to talk about peaches, peanuts, and pecans,” he retorts, resorting to mispronouncing the last of the glorious three Ps, just as one last barb.

“Please, it’s puh-kahn,” I mockingly correct, knowing that he knows better. “A pee-can is a chamber pot. Please do not insult our glorious nut.”

“Technically, they’re drupes.”

I freeze, Sawyer’s sweet but know-it-all tone hitting me square in the chest like a bullet. Slowly, I twist in my seat, turning to face her, raising a single eyebrow. Hips cocked to the side, hand planted there like she’s ready to take me on, she smiles, making my skin prickle.

“They’re nuts.”

“They’re drupes. A fruit with a single seed surrounded by a husk.”

“You’re really going to argue with me about pecans?” I question, my heart rate picking up. For as much as I wanted to play fight earlier, it looks like she wants to actually fight.

“If you’re going to be wrong about them, yes,” she throws back, crossing her arms, lifting her perfect breasts.

Oh, she’s fighting dirty now.

It is on.

“This is the best thing I think I’ve ever seen,” Gus mutters behind us.