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And my heart leaped around in my chest, fluttering around like a goddamned hummingbird.
Crushes.
What the hell was the deal with crushes?
11
HARLAN
“Thank fuck, it’s you,” Sawyer said the moment he turned to see me. He let out a relieved sigh.
He was wearing work pants and a fitted white long-sleeve with the Fixer Brothers logo. As he stood in the low light outside, he looked every bit like one of the Fixer Brothers crew. He looked damned good in construction clothes.
“I’m surprised to hear that relief in your voice,” I told him in a low tone as I paced over toward him. “Didn’t know if you wanted to be alone. Seemed like you didn’t really feel comfortable earlier.”
He winced a little. “I knew you noticed how awkward I was being.”
“No biggie. You’re cute when you’re stumbling over words, you know.”
He looked at me, his face only illuminated by the faint glow from a window at the side of the brewery. “I feel comfortable around you. Obviously. In fact, you’re the only person that I was actually glad to see coming out here right now.”
“How’d you like the wheat beer?”
“I didn’t,” he said, a small smile on his lips. “But you know what? I didn’t want to spit it out, and I finished the whole thing, so maybe I really do like trying new things. Even if I’m not always good at them.”
I could sense the tension in his voice. He was doubting himself, and the fact that his mother had showed up tonight sure as shit probably wasn’t helping.
“Listen. I know it’s tough being on camera all day,” I told him. “If you’ve never done it, it seems like it would be the easiest thing in the world. Just do what you always do, while someone is filming it. But in reality, it’s nothing like that.”
“Nothing like that,” Sawyer agreed emphatically. “It’s like, every moment, I have to be thinking about the thousands and thousands of fans who might see what I’m doing. I worry about how I look, the work I do, even dumb things like hoping my clothes aren’t too loose.”
“It makes it hard to relax. Hard to turn your brain off. I get it.”
“I’m so glad you do.”
“So,” I said, cocking my head to one side, “you want to tell me why you’ve been so awkward all day?”
Sawyer momentarily looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I… well, I haven’t been acting that weird, really.”
I shook my head. “Yes you have. I don’t do bullshit, and I know you don’t, either. So don’t stand there and tell me you haven’t been acting weird.”
He nodded. “You’re so right. I can barely even say it without feeling the colossal weight of how untrue it is. I’ve been acting incredibly weird all day around you.”
The last two words stood out to me like a glittering jewel.
Around you.
So Sawyer hadn’t just been acting weird in general, today. He’d specifically been feeling that way around me?
The sound of the back doors opening again cut through the air so quickly it made me jump.
“There you are,” a sharp voice said and I turned to see Sawyer’s mother, walking outside with a very angry look on her face.
Instantly, my hackles went up like I was a defensive grizzly. I didn’t know what the fuck her problem was now, but I knew I couldn’t stand when she treated Sawyer.
“Hi, Mom,” he said.
“Can you explain to me why my junior marketing executive is in there hitting it off with some slick-haired, tattooed camera man at the table with the Fix-it Brothers?”
“Fixer Brothers,” Sawyer corrected her. “And she has a name, and it’s Natasha.”
“Of course I know her name is Natasha,” she bit back. “I’m the one who employs her.”
“And it sounds like she’s hitting it off with Darrell,” Sawyer said. “He’s one of the production assistants for the show. Really, really nice guy, beautiful tattoos, really friendly—”
“How many times are you going to fumble chances to finally make a life for yourself, Sawyer?” she said in a clipped tone. “Begin a true career. Make something of yourself. Find a nice wife, maybe, even, because it isn’t as if I don’t introduce you to enough very eligible women—”
“Stop,” Sawyer said in a calm, even tone.
And I was fucking glad Sawyer had said it, because I was one step away from butting in where I didn’t belong and saying it myself.
“It’s a lost cause,” his mother said, shaking her head.
“Stop,” he repeated, just as firmly as before. “I didn’t invite you to come to my job site, belittle me, and disrespect me today. And I’m not going to tolerate it. Natasha is wonderful, and I think she may even become a great friend, but no, we will not be dating.”
“Great friend,” she said bitterly. “Woman after woman, all of them ending up as your friends. I don’t understand it, Sawyer.”
