Page 41 of For the Record

Coy swallowed, her belly tensing at those words. If he’d been such an ass, why was Sawyer having her rebuild the McLaren? And why did Bree’s statement hit so hard? It was as if she was giving Coy permission to date her mother without actually giving permission. Right? And why was her heart suddenly racing?

“McCoy, must you flirt with every woman you come in contact with?” Sawyer’s icy voice flitted across the entrance, and Coy jumped away from Bree like she’d been burned.

“I-I wasn’t, I—”

“I gave Coy a hug,Maman, that’s all.” Bree shot Coy an apologetic smile.

“Coy, huh?” Sawyer pushed herself off the wall she’d been leaning against. She looked casually pretty today, and Coy’s gaze dipped down to witness the way the sweatpants hugged Sawyer’s thighs. She didn’t think there was an outfit Sawyer wouldn’t slay.It was too bad she didn’t smile nearly as much as her daughter did. “Why am I calling you McCoy if you prefer Coy?”

“Um,” Coy stammered, blurting out, “H-Honestly, I just love how you say my name.”

Her eyes widened.Wherewas her filter? Her brain repeatedly failed her around Sawyer, but this was getting ridiculous. How many times could she embarrass herself before Sawyer laughed her off her property? And in front of her daughter, no less.

Coy groaned, covering her face with her hands and acutely aware of Bree’s giggle. “Can I just … Please just give me what I came for, and I’ll go. I’m sorry. Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Can you stay for lunch? I’m making soup and sandwiches,” Bree offered with a smile so wide it became abundantly clear she was playing matchmaker.

The knowledge unnerved Coy, and before she could think of a response, Sawyer cut in smoothly, “Bree,qu'est-ce que tu fais? I’m sure McCoy has plans already.”

Coy’s eyes flared with Sawyer’s rough voice rapidly speaking French. A nervous, breathless laugh escaped her, and she jerked her thumb in Sawyer’s direction, her gaze on Bree. “Whatever she said. Besides, Sloane’s outside waiting, and she is definitely the less patient twin.”

“You have a twin? Can we meet her?” If it was possible, Bree appeared even more excited. She glanced at her mom, “Je t'aide, qu'est-ce que tu penses?”

“Err …” Bree’s French didn’t hit the same way Sawyer’s did, and for that, Coy was grateful. It was just as effortless, but thankfully Coy’s heady reaction seemed to be for only one woman.

“You’re both welcome to stay if you like. I’ve made chicken and egg salad sandwiches and a homemade butternut squash soup.”

Coy acknowledged Bree with a soft thank you, caught between wanting to stay and having a strong desire to bolt. Having Bree and Sawyer together gave off a domestic vibe Coy wasn’t sure she was ready for. What if Sloane was right? Coy had never even been in a real relationship; how could she begin to qualify for a place in Sawyer’s life? Still, she found herself watching Sawyer, waiting for permission, and knowing she’d lap up any and all time she had with the gorgeous older woman.

Sawyer stared at her so intently that Coy averted her gaze to Sawyer’s slippers instead. After ten long Mississippis—and yes, Coy counted them—Sawyer finally relented. “If you and Sloane agree, I suppose it would make sense to stay for lunch. Bree made enough for a neighborhood.”

Coy let out the breath, a gush of relief flooding through her. She pulled her cell phone out and quickly sent Sloane a text, telling her to come in.

Sloane: I knew this would happen ffs. Nana is expecting us.

“She’ll be right in,” Coy told them, lifting her head from her phone to see Sawyer already making her way to the kitchen.

“Don’t mindMaman. She’s tired. She’ll probably lie down after lunch,” Bree whispered before opening the front door to admit a flushed-faced Sloane. Yep, she was not happy with Coy. “Wow, you’re like a prettier version of Coy.” Bree laughed and grasped the pink tips in Sloane’s hair, not at all concerned that she was virtually a stranger.

Coy let out an uneasy chuckle. “Sloane, this is Bree, Sawyer’s daughter.”

“Daughter?” Shock registered on Sloane’s face, and then her mouth slowly curved into an impish grin as her gaze raked over Bree. “Wow, I had no idea.”

Coy gave her a light swat on the arm and slipped off her Converse. “They invited us for lunch.”

“But Nana—”

“We’ll head over after and still be there for a visit and supper.”

“Coy—”

Coy sent her a pleading look, practically dragging her down the hall after Bree. Sloane scowled but didn’t complain further. She did, however, lean over and whisper, “You forgot to mention your lady had a stunningadultdaughter. How about some warning next time?”

“How about you listen more than talk next time?” Coy shot back, her whisper louder than Sloane’s had been, and both Sawyer and Bree were watching them as they entered the kitchen.

“It must have been difficult telling you two apart in school, huh? Or did you always dress so differently?” Bree asked, looking back and forth between them.

Coy glanced at Sloane, catching her eye, and then they both broke into identical grins. “Let’s just say it came in handy a few times during exams,” Sloane returned, then threw her head back to laugh.

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