Page 104 of Waiting For Fate

“Evenin, Dove.”

Oh, fuck me. He looks delicious.

He’s wearing a pair of cropped navy-blue slacks and a white button down shirt—that both fit him like a second skin—with a pair of white sneakers. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, showing off the tattoos on his chest, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows.

When I finally meet his eye after my lustful inspection of him, I see that he’s doing the same with me. That hungry look in his eye that makes me weak in the knees is on full display as his eyes rake over my body.

“You are breathtaking, baby.” He takes my hand in his, turning me under his arm before pulling me into him.

“You’re one to talk.” My hands fall to his chest as he bends to kiss me and, as always, I melt into him.

“You ready to go?” I nod my response, grab my purse from the hook inside the door and lock up before he escorts me to his truck.

“Sawyer, I love you, but why are we at the grocery store?” I turn to face him, a little paranoid that I’ve severely over dressed for the occasion.

He simply smirks back at me. “I’m cooking you dinner tonight, but I wanted you to help me pick what to make.”

“You can cook?!”

“I can. Let’s go.” He winks at me then comes around to open my door. We walk through the store looking like we’re headed to a black-tie event while getting everything we need for Sawyer to make parmesan chicken.

“People are staring at us,” I whisper in his ear, as we stand staring at the wall of cheeses.

“Can you blame them?” he whispers back, wrapping his arms around me. “You look absolutely heart-stopping in that dress.” He kisses my neck. “But I can’t wait to see you out of it.” He kisses the same spot again as goosebumps spread across my arms and down my legs.

“Found it!” I say, pulling the parmesan cheese off the shelf before turning back to him. “Let’s go.”

He raises a brow and teases me. “You in a rush, Dove?”

I take a step closer to him, running my fingers lightly over the exposed part of his chest as I look up at him with the most seductive look I can conjure up. “Yes.”

Two can play this game.

“Yeah, okay let’s go.” He throws the bag into the basket and grabs my hand, rushing us to the checkout line.

“When did you learn to cook?” Sawyer finishes plating our food, taking it over to the table as I follow behind with the wine we picked up. The small laugh he breathes out makes my curiosity grow even more.

“So, it was my first year playing with the Bears. We were on a winning streak and decided we should all go out and celebrate. I think I got more wasted that night than I had ever gotten in high school or college put together. The next morning, I was so hungover I knew I needed to eat something to absorb all the alcohol and either make it come back up or settle it.” I grimace at the statement as we begin eating.

“Anyway, I made it to the kitchen of my apartment and was rifling through the cabinets like a starved raccoon and tried to make something with the stuff I had on hand—which was some hot dogs, beer and ramen.”

“Oh, god.”

“I decided after that day that, one, I would never get that drunk again, and two, it was time to call Mama and ask her to teach me how to cook for myself.”

“Why didn’t you just order food in or something?”

“I had thrown my phone off a two-story building the night before, apparently.” My mouth hangs open as he raises his brows. “Yeahhh,” he whispers.

“Moose! What the hell?” I ask through my laughter. His cheeks turn red and he shakes his head, as if he’s trying to rid the memory. “Sounds like you had some good times back then.”

“Eh, it was alright, I guess. I made many story worthy memories, that’s for sure.” He never meets my eye as he continues eating the delicious dinner he’s made us.

“What about you, Dove? What was the craziest thing you ever did?” He finally looks up and my face falls. “Oh, come on, I just told you I tossed my phone off a building because I was so drunk. Yours surely can’t be worse than that.”

“You’re right. Because I’ve never had a crazy drunken night. At least none that you weren’t a part of.” My cheeks heat when a memory of us getting a little too tipsy in high school resurfaces. I was sure he had caught me practically undressing him with my eyes while we were having game night in one of our friends' basement one night. I stopped drinking Smirnoff after that.

“Doesn’t have to be a drunken night. Not everyone makes as horrible of decisions as me,” he teases. “Any crazy parties or pranks you pulled in college?” I roll my lips and shake my head. He folds his arms over his chest and sits back in his seat, narrowing his gaze on me.

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