Page 49 of Karma's Kiss

Petey, Lindsey’s younger brother, rushes in after him. “Right, okay, I know it looks like a lot of blood, but it’s really not that bad!”

Cruz’s skinned knee takes precedence over my warnings about Sawyer as Lindsey scoops up her son and carries him into the bathroom so she can clean him up.

“Petey, you had one job!” Lindsey groans.

“We were playing outside just like you wanted!” Petey argues. “How was I supposed to know a one-year-old can’t ride a bicycle?”

I’m alone in the kitchen now, trying to come up with a new, better plan of attack when the back door opens and the smell of smoked meat foretells the imminent arrival of my new nemesis. I take a deep breath and prepare myself as best as possible, but it’s futile. Sawyer walks in from the mudroom with his arms full of foil to-go platters. They’re stacked so high he doesn’t see me until he slides them onto the kitchen island and steps back.

We’re only a few feet apart when his brown eyes lock with mine and his gaze narrows. “You could have helped me.”

My gaze narrows right back at him. “Looked like you were doing just fine by yourself.”

“There’s potato salad and beans in the car. Iced tea too,” he says with a bad attitude. He expects me to hop to it when he left me out in that field last night? If so, he’s delusional.

“Well then you’d better go get them,” I say, adding a little snark of my own.

He grunts in disgust and leaves to go retrieve it all without my help.

I’m not trying to be overly petty; I just need a second. I turn back and grip the counter, squeeze my eyes closed, and try to slow my racing heart. It’s no use; I see Sawyer behind my closed lids. He had a haircut this morning, but his short chestnut brown strands still have a slight wave to them. His square jaw is clean-shaven and sexy. His warm brown eyes have never felt more lethal. Thank god he didn’t smile. A girl can only take so much.

The back door opens again and I shake myself out of my little freakout, turning back around just in time so that Sawyer’s none the wiser. In fact, it looks like I’ve stood here stoic as a statue while he’s schlepped back and forth from his truck.

“Don’t want to lift a pretty little finger?”

If only he knew how much work I’ve already done for this party… I don’t take the bait though. I shrug it off and examine mypretty little fingerslike I’m bored by his presence.

There’s a small part of me that wants to explain everything to Sawyer right here and now, about Kendra’s mission, about the rumors he’s clearly heard. But I’m not ready to make peace. I’m still bitter about last night. I scrubbed my dress with OxiClean for thirty minutes, and even then, the mud stains didn’t budge. I ended up just throwing it away.

“So how are we going to play this today?” Sawyer asks once he’s finished setting down the sides and drinks. He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms.

I feign confusion. “Play what?”

“I obviously don’t want us to ruin Cruz’s birthday,” Sawyer replies drolly.

“I won’t be ruining anybody’s birthday.”

“Did Sawyer just get here?! I smell barbecue!” Lindsey shouts from down the hall. “Can y’all get the food ready?! People are going to start arriving soon!”

We have no choice but to work together on the task. I might not want to be in Sawyer’s vicinity, but I’m not going to be the one to call mercy. I curve around the kitchen island and stand beside him. Even with the delicious smell of barbecue, I catch a hint of his cologne. I take a microstep to the left, but I wasn’t inconspicuous enough. Sawyer notices and smiles triumphantly at me.

I start arranging the to-go containers on the counter, creating a buffet line for guests. Sawyer’s tearing into the plastic serving utensils, pairing them with the appropriate dish. We’re in each other’s way the entire time, but no one cedes any territory.

“For your information,” I hiss quietly, “you have it all wrong. The things you accused me of last night are totally off base.”

“I don’t really care to hear your explanation of things. I have a reliable source.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

I want to know who the gossip is.

He doesn’t reply, and I’m forced to turn and wedge myself between him and the counter. This way, he can’t stick that spoon in the potato salad until he answers me.

“Who?” I prod with a finger to his chest.

He leans in, presumably so he can continue his job, but in the process, he crushes me against the counter. It’s not painful, but it’s a predatory claim all the same. He eclipses me, his body so much bigger than mine. Our eyes meet and hold. A fissure of desire overrides my annoyance, making it so my lips part and my sharp intake of breath is heard by the both of us. His eyes darken, but then he drops the spoon in the potato salad and pushes in, using me like a springboard before he turns and leaves without ever answering my question.

I hear him on the porch outside talking to David. They laugh, and I glower. This is going to be the longest birthday party of my life.

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