Kennedy could practically hear all the foul words running through her father’s head, but rather than letting him start rapid firing them, she opted to get up from her seat, grabbing her drink as she did. “We’ll be over there,” she told him, nodding toward one of the booths.
“Can I get you a beer?” Mack asked Sawyer, his tone as brusque as she’d ever heard it. Clearly he still harbored some animosity toward Sawyer as well.
“Naw, I’m good for now. Thanks.”
Kennedy didn’t question why Sawyer wasn’t drinking, but she did follow him across the bar to an empty booth.
She blushed to the roots of her hair when Sawyer pressed his lips to hers before stepping out of the way and allowing her to take her seat. He surprised her again when he moved in beside her, forcing her to move over. Luckily, they were facing away from her father, as well as the rest of the patrons of the bar.
“How was your day?” she asked when he didn’t bother to speak.
“I’ve had better,” he said, his hands resting on the table. “But I’m doin’ my best not to think about that right now. How ’bout you? How was your day?”
Kennedy could sense that there was something on Sawyer’s mind and whatever it was, he wasn’t happy about it. “The same. Is something wrong?” she asked, wanting to get right to the point.
Sawyer didn’t respond right away, which concerned her. The silence lingered between them for so long, she was beginning to believe he wasn’t going to answer at all. But he finally did and she was a little rattled by his response.
“I’d prefer not to talk about it here,” he answered, not looking at her.
“You wanna go somewhere else to talk?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, looking at her for the first time since they sat down. “My house. I want you to stay with me tonight.”
Kennedy frowned at him, confused by the request. Sawyer had spent almost every night that week at her place, neither of them addressing the fact that he didn’t go home, to the point that Kennedy had finally gotten used to the idea, although she knew that rumors were beginning to run rampant, as they always did in their little town.
Realizing she hadn’t responded to his request, Kennedy followed with, “At your house?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sawyer’s smile faltered briefly and she could see the intensity in his gaze.
“I just . . . I just do.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Sawyer.”
She continued to watch him and she could see a number of emotions crossing his face, which concerned her. Had something happened?
“Talk to me,” she told him.
Sawyer glanced around the room briefly before returning his attention to her. “Can we pick this up at my place?”
Kennedy wasn’t sure how she felt about staying at Sawyer’s house. She’d never been there and the idea of being in his bed, where God knew how many women had been, didn’t make her feel good in the least. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” she told him honestly.
As though he had read her mind, Sawyer leaned in close, pressing his lips to her ear. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve never brought another woman back to my house. Ever. You’re the first and only woman I’ve ever wanted in my bed, Kennedy.”
A shiver raced down her spine at his words. “Ever?”
“Ever,” he confirmed.
“So why not my place?” she questioned, still confused and not completely comfortable with taking this another step further. If she ended up at his place, it only added an additional layer to this thing that was happening between them. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet.
“Because Buster’s gettin’ tired of me bein’ gone,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Buster?” she asked, not believing for one second that was his only reason, although it was a good answer, she’d give him that.
“Yes.”
“What else is goin’ on, Sawyer?” she implored.
He didn’t say anything more, but his eyes locked with hers as though he wanted her to read his mind.
“Just come to my place for the night.”
“One night?” she asked, still not able to give in. She knew she was wasting time with all the questions because she would eventually give in. Being with him just felt . . . right.
“We’ll start with one and work our way up,” he replied with a sinful smirk.
Kennedy didn’t answer him immediately, choosing to study him instead. When the silence between them became laced with that sexual tension that pulsed whenever they were close to one another, she finally relented. “Fine.”