Page 60 of Karma's Kiss

“Was this dream PG-13?” Hunter inquires with an innocent smile.

Sawyer grins down at his beer, but he doesn’t reply.

Oh my god. I hate him.

“That’ssucha weird coincidence, Sawyer, becauseyouwere inmydream last night too.” I deliver this revelation with an abundance of sarcastic bewilderment. I’m not even trying to be a good actress.

Sawyer’s eyebrows furrow with annoyance, but Hunter’s smiling gleefully. “Really?! What are the odds?”

He knows the odds, but he doesn’t care. He likes where this is going.

“Yes! It was the craziest thing… The details are a little fuzzy.” The details aren’t fuzzy; they’re nonexistent, so I improvise. “Sawyer was wearing a Speedo.” No, not good enough. I snap my fingers. “No wait, aTarzan-style loincloth. It only covered the front bits and bobs. Your butt was just hanging out.”

Sawyer snorts, but Hunter waves for me to go on.

“Anyway, I had just gotten married to that one actor fromThe Last of Us.” I look imploringly at Hunter. “What’s his name?”

“Pedro Pascal,” Sawyer provides, sounding bored.

“Yes! We were married and he wastotallyobsessed with me—we were about to leave for our honeymoon whenyoushowed up, Sawyer, in that loincloth.” I’m so invested now it’s like I’m trying for an Oscar. “It’s hard to remember all of it. You know how it is with dreams, but you were bawling your eyes out andgroveling down on your hands and knees, which was awkward, of course, because of the loincloth situation…”

“Of course,” Sawyer notes, expression trained into neutral indifference.

Hunter is choking on his laughter.

“And you were begging and begging for me to accept your apology.”

My one-and-a-half beers have started to take their effect. My cheeks are heated and I’m biting back my smile.

Sawyer’s brow arches sardonically. “Now see?That’show I know it was a dream. The loincloth is believable enough. I like to roleplay as much as the next guy, but apologizing to you?” He stares straight at me. “Never gonna happen.”

Hunter puffs out a breath like he’s trying to diffuse the situation.

“Now, now, Sawyer. Let’s not get carried away. Sounds like a perfectly good dream to me. Care to share yours now?”

“It’s not appropriate… I don’t want to make anybodyblush.”

Again his eyes fall on me and a flush overtakes me, rising up my neck and cheeks, and though I try to convince myself it’s from the beer, Sawyer and I both know it’s not.

“I guess now might be as good a time as any to let y’all know there has been some major gossip swirling,” Hunter cuts in. “I don’t like to listen to the rumor mill most of the time, but you two are all anyone around here seems to want to talk about.”

“I don’t care,” Sawyer snaps sternly.

Ignoring him, Hunter continues, “My mama was down at the grocery store yesterday and she overheard Lolly talking to Stacey Wolfe about how you two were making out in Queenie’s creek last week.”

He’s wearing a mischievously sly smile. Meanwhile, I tip my beer up and finish the last of it. As if by magic, Doc comes by with a third round.

“Perfect timing, Doc.” I smile and swap my empty beer for a full one.

“Sure thing. Y’all want anything to eat?”

“We’ll take some of your world-famous nachos,” Hunter says with a wink, then once Doc’s out of earshot, he jumps right back to the topic at hand. “So did it happen? Were y’all smoochin’ in the creek? I can’t picture it myself, but who knows?”

“It happened,” Sawyer states plainly. “Now change the subject.”

“What?!” Hunter explodes. “You expect me to—”

“Change the subject,” Sawyer insists roughly.

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