Kennedy hadn’t bothered to tell her father that she wasn’t as good as he wanted to believe she was. It wasn’t a conversation that she could ever imagine herself having with him, no matter the reason, so she’d allowed him to give him his warning and then she’d moved the conversation along.
But she had to admit that he’d piqued her curiosity, as had the rumors that began spreading around town about the resort. No one that she knew had actually been there. At least no one other than the Walkers, who of course weren’t sharing any details of their superexclusive “resort for the naughty,” as it had been dubbed.
Why she was thinking about it now, Kennedy didn’t know. Why she was thinking about Sawyer, she didn’t know, either. She needed to move on, forget that he even existed as she’d done for so long, and maybe her life would get back on track. She’d been better off before he had started pursuing her in the first place. Sure, she was somewhat flattered by the attention he’d given her over the last few years, but just as he had this time, Sawyer would pop up in her life and then disappear for weeks at a time without a word.
And she would hear the stories about him standing on the street corners, soliciting sex by holding up signs—a joke she had learned he performed just to get attention from the ladies. Or she would hear of his next conquest, or ten.
She didn’t want to hear about him or the things he did anymore. She was better off moving on and trying to find a nice guy, as her father said she needed.
Problem was, Kennedy didn’t want a nice guy. Well, she wanted nice, but she wanted someone naughty in the bedroom. She’d learned that her desires burned hot and the few men she’d been with saw her as the sweet girl who needed to be cuddled and sweet-talked. No, what Kennedy wanted—which was what she knew Sawyer Walker was capable of giving her—was something significantly hotter than that. Maybe a little hair pulling, some dirty talk, or even a quick fuck against the wall.
Shit.
Tossing back the rest of her wine, Kennedy decided to give up for the night. The only company she would have for now would be her vibrator and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to burn through more batteries. To the point she’d have to start picking them up at the store that sold them in bulk.
Yep, certainly time for bed.
chapter NINE
On Thursday night, Sawyer had gone to dinner with his brothers. They had met up with Luke, Sierra, and Cole at the diner, opting for somewhere close since Travis had finally given in to Kylie’s request to bring Kate. Throughout dinner, everyone had cooed over the sweet little girl, including Sawyer on occasion, and by the time they’d finished the meal, Sawyer wasn’t ready to go home.
So, instead he headed for Moonshiners after his brothers informed him they were all heading home, including Brendon, which had surprised Sawyer somewhat. He would’ve expected Brendon to hang out with him, if for no other reason than not to go home to an empty house. His brother was still acting strange, but he had ventured out with them tonight—had even contributed to the conversation—so that was a start. However, Sawyer had noticed that when the topic had drifted to Cheyenne, Brendon had tried not to pay attention, or at least look like he wasn’t. Sawyer saw through that. If anyone had been hanging on every word about the country music superstar who would soon call Coyote Ridge her home, it was Brendon.
“Hey, Mack,” Sawyer called to the bartender when he walked inside.
For the first time in . . . God, Sawyer didn’t even know how many years it’d been since he’d started sidling up to the bar at Moonshiners, but it had been a long damn time. But for the first time, Mack didn’t greet him back, which put Sawyer on high alert instantly.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Sawyer asked as he stepped close to the bar.
“You want somethin’ to drink, or what?” Mack asked, his eyes narrowed on Sawyer’s face.
What the fuck was that about?
“I’ll take a whiskey and water,” Sawyer told him, keeping his eyes locked with Mack’s.
Mack turned away first, leaving Sawyer staring after him. That was when he heard a conversation from behind him.
“Yep, you heard me,” the gruff voice said, “we’ve got another one.”
“I heard. Knew it would happen. Once you let people think it’s okay, they’ll come out of the woodwork.”
They were old men, Sawyer could sense that much without turning around. They sounded like they were talking about the weather, as nonchalantly as they were speaking, but Sawyer knew differently. The hairs on the back of Sawyer’s neck stood on end. It wasn’t so much the words as it was the way the men were talking that had Sawyer’s ears cocked to hear more.