“He’s been paying me from that wiggle room for years now,” Sawyer said. “There’s none left. It’s really over. Jeff says the farm probably won’t even last through the year.”
Something twisted deep in my chest.
No. The thought of Red Pinecone Farm shutting down was… heartbreaking.
It was one of the most important places in the world. Maybe not to anyone but me and Sawyer and Jeff, the owner, but still. I’d been through enough loss in my life to know that there were some things out of my control. But when Sawyer was involved, I couldn’t help it. I planned. I took action. I would do anything to help him.
“I’ll figure something else out, then,” I told him, resolute. “You and Jeff both. A lot of farmers pass through the bar here, I’m sure I can find something for both of you.”
He waved a hand through the air. “I’ll be fine. Maybe it’s about time for a change, right?”
I watched him from behind the bar, frozen in place. I knew how much hurt there was behind Sawyer’s polite smile. He was just trying to make me feel better, acting like everything was okay.
But his world had just turned upside down. My eyes landed on the inch-long scar on his forearm, from when he’d repaired the bumper on his old farm four-wheeler years and years ago. He was made for it, damn it, and he may as well have been the poster boy for a farmer. The dictionary definition. Six feet of hard-earned muscle, all gained from years and years of labor.
He’d told me many times that the job at Red Pinecone Farm had saved him—saved him from how lost he’d felt in the world, how rejected he was as the only person in his family who didn’t go to college and become a doctor or lawyer.
He’d felt like a failure at everything in life until he’d found the job at the farm. The one place he’d finally felt like he belonged. Like he wasn’t an impostor.
“Get over here,” I said, pushing out from the swinging wooden gate at the end of the bar.
I looped around to the other side of the bar and wrapped my arms around him in the tightest hug I could manage.
I held him close, breathing in his familiar clean scent. Fuck, it felt good to be this close to him, to have the warm bulk of his body against mine. The sound of his voice from earlier rang in my mind: I would suck you dry before you could even scream my—
No. He hadn’t actually thought that about me, no matter how hot it had been to hear him read those words.
I snuffed out my crush for him for the millionth time, like I was putting out a little fire.
“Hey, Harlan. Hi, Sawyer,” a voice said from beside us a moment later, as I was holding Sawyer close. “Did you two finally admit how much you love each other? Hug it out, guys. Maybe fuck it out, later.”
I looked up and pulled away to see Charlie, one of my favorite regulars, grinning at me with his coworkers Shawn and Nathan behind him. The guys were the brains and brawn of Fixer Brothers Construction Co., whose office was just across the street from here.
The Fixer Brothers guys had recently started teasing me and Sawyer about being “in love” with each other, and most of the time I just rolled my eyes at them.
Right now, I welcomed the distraction from Sawyer’s bad news. I wasn’t even going to yell at Charlie for signing me up on the dating app.
“We don’t have to admit we love each other,” I said, “because we already know. What else are friends for?”
“So you are going to fuck, right?” Charlie kept teasing. “The lumberjack beer brewer and the picture-perfect hottie farmer boy. It sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”
“No,” I said, clearing my throat. “Well, Sawyer is absolutely a hottie. I just—”
“Not sure you guys can call me a farmer anymore at all,” Sawyer said. “And thanks, Harlan.” His eyes flashed over to mine again for a second, and I noticed a hint of surprise in his expression.
I knew he was surprised I’d called him a hottie. And not just because that wasn’t the kind of word that ever came out of my mouth.
Sawyer had always had the unique ability to be the most attractive guy in the room and still never realize that he was the most attractive guy in the room. He’d told me long ago that as a kid he was an ugly duckling, and coming from a family full of high-powered achievers, he’d always thought of himself as plain and unremarkable.
I watched as the expressions on Nathan, Shawn, and Charlie’s faces changed, as they all had the same realization that I’d had a couple of minutes ago—that for once, Sawyer actually had bad news.