“Don’t kill me,” Bubba said. “This is for your own good.” He turned and walked away.
Before Mia could follow him, and demand to know what he’d done “for her own good,” six foot three inches of studly cowboy circled around her chair to lean his forearms on the bar next to her.
It was Sawyer Kane, looking good enough to sprinkle with salt, lick clean, and follow with a tequila chaser.
CHAPTERSEVEN
“This seat taken?”Sawyer’s voice vibrated across her skin like a physical caress, making it impossible not to think about the moment when he’d called her beautiful, seconds before he’d tugged her shirt down, baring her breast to the warm afternoon sun.
Mia cleared her throat, pushing the erotic memory from her mind. “You got to Bubba, I see.”
Sawyer nodded, a serious look in his eyes. “I had to know if it was me, or if you ran this fast from all the boys.”
“Boy isn’t the word I’d use to describe you,” Mia said, twirling her straw around in her half-empty drink, not sure whether she was flattered or unnerved by Sawyer’s attention.
“Me either,” he said. “I’m not a boy, and I’m not the kind of man you have to worry about. With me, what you see is what you get, and what you say is what I’ll do.”
“Really?” Mia arched one brow. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
“No, you said you needed space, and asked me to lock up. So I gave you your space, and I locked up behind me when I left,” Sawyer said in a reasonable tone that made it hard to argue with him. “But, if you tell me to leave you alone, I will. I was just hoping maybe that kiss on Monday was still on your mind, because I sure as hell can’t get it out of mine.”
Mia took a deep breath, chewing her bottom lip as she let her eyes do a slow sweep up and down. In dark jeans and a black tee shirt that clung to his drool-worthy chest, Sawyer was looking even more devastatingly handsome than usual. The hint of scruff on his cheeks and on the top of his usually bald head gave him a rough-around-the-edges look that made Mia’s pulse spike, and every other female head in the joint turn to gape.
A glance down the bar revealed that no fewer than five women between the ages of twenty-one and forty had turned away from the stage and leaned back on their stools to get a better look at the stranger who had wandered into The Ticklish Iguana. Their expressions ranged from envious to downright combative, and if Mia turned Sawyer loose, he’d be surrounded like chum in a shark tank in ten seconds flat. Sawyer was the stuff wet-panty dreams were made of, and she had a feeling she’d regret it if she sent him on his way. It wasn’t like legions of sex gods were throwing themselves at her feet.
Mia knew she was prettier than your average twenty-something, but she’d never been a man magnet. She was the kind of girl who ended up being one of the guys, a girl too outspoken, stubborn, and over-the-top for your average cowboy. Bubba said she scared the weak of spirit, but Mia had a feeling she came across as high maintenance, and not in the way most men could get behind. She wasn’t needy or co-dependent, couldn’t be mollified with flowers or sparkly things, and refused to play any boy-girl games. She wanted something real, and she wouldn’t settle for anything less. Most men sensed that in the first ten minutes, and went looking for a less challenging woman not long after.
But Sawyer seemed not only interested, but downright determined to win a place on the stool next to her. She should at least give him a chance, a real chance, one that involved her head as well as her libido.
“Three questions each,” Mia said, heart beating faster as she dipped a toe into the dating pool for the first time in twelve months. “If either of us don’t like one of the other person’s answers, I walk out of here, and you mosey on down the bar to get tackled by one of those women drooling into their cocktail napkins while they check out your ass.”
Sawyer’s lips curved, but he didn’t turn to look over his shoulder. His eyes stayed glued to hers, and Mia wasn’t surprised to find that simply making eye contact with this man felt vaguely sexual. He had an intense personal energy, and there was no doubt she was attracted to him physically, but she needed more than that to put an official end to her dry spell.
“You first,” she said. “Ask me anything. But something that matters.”
Sawyer nodded, his eyes narrowing as he thought. “Okay. True or false: As long as you’re in a relationship, it’s okay to listen to your partner’s phone messages, or scroll through his texts, even after you’ve been asked not to.”
Mia shook her head, knowing exactly where she stood on that question after last summer. “False. It’s never okay to invade someone’s privacy, especially after being asked not to. Trust is important, and so are boundaries. A person who doesn’t understand that isn’t ready to be in a relationship.”
Sawyer nodded, looking satisfied by her answer. “I agree.” He paused to ask the bartender for a draft lager before turning back to Mia. “Your turn.”
Mia shut one eye, pinning him with her best pirate glare, pleased when the ugly face made his smile wider. “Okay, so…say I stop wearing makeup today, and never put on so much as a speck of lip gloss ever again. Can you live with this decision long term?”
“Of course, you’re beautiful with or without makeup,” Sawyer said, sending a silly rush of pleasure through Mia’s chest. “That shouldn’t count as a real question. Try again.”
She pulled in a deep breath, struggling to think of something serious. She’d started this game, but it felt intimate to ask real questions.
But then, that was the point, wasn’t it?
“It’s our third date, and we end up at your place.” Mia’s tongue slipped out to dampen her lips as she fought to ignore the butterflies beginning to flutter in her belly. “We haven’t done anything serious yet, or spent the night at each other’s place, but I ask to sleep on your couch so I won’t have to drive forty-five minutes across town to my apartment. What do you do?”
Sawyer frowned. “This is your real question?”
“Yes, it is,” Mia said, sitting up straighter on her stool and downing the rest of her drink.
On their third date, Paul had insisted she go home if she didn’t sleep in his bed, saying he was too attracted to her to sleep in the same apartment if they weren’t going to do more than sleep. It was one of the first times she’d excused something that felt wrong, and she was curious to know how Sawyer would handle the same situation.
Sawyer lifted one shoulder. “Okay, well…I would make up my bed with fresh sheets, put you in it, and crash on the couch myself. And if I got up before you, I’d make you coffee.”