Chapter 7

• Saturday came in hot — all sticky sunshine and the drone of cicadas so loud you’d swear the earth was humming. Sparrow’s Bakery was closed for the day, Sadie’s big new OPEN sign flipped backwards on the dusty glass. Beau Walker should’ve felt relieved — a whole day without watching that little crop top slide up her ribs, without that vanilla sugar smell twisting up his head.
• Instead, he sat on the tailgate of Cade’s truck with a cold beer dripping sweat down his knuckles while Cade, West, Beck, and Colt stood around like a pack of restless hounds. They were chewing the same bone — Sadie’s big Saturday night.
• “You hear who it is?” West asked, flicking his lighter open and shut. “Damn townie. That kid works at the hardware store — what’s his name? Randy?”
• Beck barked a laugh. “Randy? Christ, our sister’s gonna date a man named Randy?”
• Cade shot him a look. “She can date whoever the hell she wants — long as he keeps his hands where they belong.”
• Beau didn’t say shit. He just dragged the lip of his beer across his bottom lip and kept his eyes on the Lawson porch, waiting for that door to swing open.
• Colt cracked his knuckles, grinning mean. “We oughta go check in. You know, make sure he don’t forget who she belongs to.”
• Beck elbowed him. “Ain’t nobody brave enough to touch her with all of us breathin’ down his neck.”
• West smirked. “Beau, you comin’? Five boys showin’ up at the diner — ain’t scary at all, huh?”
• Beau didn’t answer. He watched the screen door flick open. Then his lungs stopped.
• Sadie stepped out barefoot first, one toe dipping to test the warm wood like she was shy about something. She shouldn’t be. Not in that dress. Little cotton scrap, white with tiny sunflowers, hugging her hips like it was painted on. The neckline dipped low enough to show a soft swell of cleavage she’d never let him see growing up — and the hem stopped so damn high on her thighs it made his throat close up.
• She’d curled her hair soft around her shoulders, pinned back with a clip that glittered gold when the porch light caught it. Her skin glowed warm, tan from long days driving fence posts barefoot behind the barn. She smelled like vanilla, cookies, and trouble — he swore he could taste it from thirty feet away.
• “Holy shit,” Beck muttered, soft whistle escaping. “Daddy’s girl grew up.”
• Sadie didn’t bother hiding the smirk. She propped one hand on her hip, the other fiddling with the tiny purse swinging from her wrist. “Don’t you boys got better things to do than gawk at me?”
• Colt barked a laugh. “Nope.”
• Cade crossed his arms. “Who’s pickin’ you up?”
• “Randy,” she said sweet as poison. “From the hardware store.”
• Beck hooted. “Randy! I swear to God. Randy!” He wiped a fake tear from his eye. “That boy’s got a death wish.”
• Sadie rolled her eyes so hard her whole head tilted back. “Y’all are pathetic. He’s sweet.”
• Beau hadn’t moved. He just stared — at the hem of that dress teasing the tops of her thighs, at the sway of her hips when she stepped down that porch step barefoot. The porch light glowed gold in her hair. He could see the tiny chain of her belly ring peeking out where the fabric pulled when she moved.
• Colt elbowed Cade, stage-whispered, “We oughta check on ‘em later. Make sure she’s doin’ fine. Real fine.”
• Sadie’s mouth twitched — that grin she used when she was about to say somethin’ filthy enough to make Cade threaten to wash her mouth out.
• She turned her eyes — slow — to Beau. Held his gaze while she tugged the hem of her dress down half an inch. Didn’t help. Didn’t cover a damn thing.
• “That bother you, cowboy?” she asked, all sugar and smoke. “Me wearin’ this?”
• Beau’s jaw ticked. His thumb dragged across the neck of the beer bottle, knuckles gone white.
• “Ain’t my business,” he said. Lie. Biggest lie of his life.
• Sadie’s grin grew mean and sweet all at once. “Didn’t think so.”
• A horn honked — the old hardware boy’s truck pulling up dusty at the curb. Randy. Skinny shoulders. Nervous grin. He stepped out, scratching the back of his neck like he knew he was walkin’ into a den of teeth.
• Sadie sashayed past her brothers — one hand trailing over Colt’s arm, Beck’s shoulder, West’s chest — playful, harmless, making them laugh. But when she got to Beau, she stopped. Close enough he smelled vanilla and warm skin and that faint soap that never left her.
• She tilted her face up, all lashes and wicked smile. “Y’all behave.”
• Beau didn’t move. Didn’t trust himself to. He just watched her climb into Randy’s truck like he hadn’t taught her how to shift that old Ford of hers barefoot, hadn’t taught her what kind of boys to run from and what kind to run to.
• Colt clapped Beau’s shoulder so hard it stung. “So. We ruinin’ it?”
• Cade sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose like a man on his last nerve. “Just keep it quiet. Ain’t gonna scare her off the first week she’s home.”
• Beck was already climbing into the cab. “Aw, come on. Ain’t nothin’ scarier than five dumb country boys sittin’ two booths over. C’mon, Beau — ain’t you curious what our girl’s got planned?”
• Beau didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. He grabbed his hat off the tailgate, slammed it low over his brow, and climbed in after them.
• Ain’t no way in hell Randy was keepin’ his hands on his Bug tonight.
• No matter how much he lied to himself about her not bein’ his anymore.