Page 42 of Givin' Me Fitz!
“Thanks. Be safe.” I opened the door for him, and after he got in, I closed it and walked over to my bike.
Was that my way of turning him down? Maybe, just maybe, he’d call me and we could actually kick something off?
Chapter Fifteen
Fitz
I drove home, the sensation of Sawyer’s beard still tickling my lips from kissing his cheek. I pulled into the driveway and opened the garage. Thankfully, the trick-or-treaters had finished up for the night.
Once I had the truck parked inside, I walked out and stepped behind the cactus. There, in the rocks, was the pumpkin Sawyer had mentioned. I picked it up and went in through the garage, closing the door and heading into the kitchen.
I poured out the candy and studied the stuffed skeleton with the heart behind its rib cage. It was adorable. What did it mean? I saw a little card attached to the handle of the pumpkin.
It was truly sweet, and I found myself longing to share the licorice with Sawyer after he fucked my brains out—or I fucked his out. Then, I’d snuggle up next to the sexy biker and sleep like a log.
Sadly, I was sure he was long gone to Pahrump. I couldn’t push him aside any longer. He was under my skin, and I’d never been more excited by anyone.
My phone had buzzed on the bathroom vanity as I was getting out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around me, feeling a chill in the air as I picked up the device to see a message from my favorite obsession.
Fitz—call me when you’re up, please. I had a thought. Sawyer
I dropped the towel and almost lost the phone while trying to catch it. I hurried out of the bathroom and over to the nightstand to see the pumpkin with the small card attached that had his number. I’d deleted it from my phone like an idiot after our only date had gone so poorly.
It rang twice. “Abbott.”
“Hey, Sawyer. Is this a bad time?” Loud noise filled the background.
“Hang on a sec, please.” The background sounds quickly diminished. “You still there?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Everything okay?” I went to the dresser and got myself a pair of boxer briefs. I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder while I pulled them on. I went to the closet to find a dress shirt and a pair of khaki pants for the day.
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for calling me back. Would you have time after work to go to the East Adkisson house with me to talk to TJ. You’re probably much better at getting answers than me, and I’m afraid I’ll lose my temper with him if he clams up.”
Duh, he couldn’t see me nodding. “Yeah, sure. What time? I’ll take off and drive out to the clubhouse, or I can meet you somewhere else if that’s easier for you.”
I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about me showing up at the Cowboys’ clubhouse—or how I’d feel about showing up there when I didn’t know anyone else in the club. I had no idea what Sawyer had told—ifSawyer had told—anyone about me. What the hell would he even have to tell—that we’d jacked each other in the bed of his truck one night and he couldn’t wait to get away from me after?
Would I be accepted at their club even though I’d been in law enforcement. Or was I more worried I wouldn’t be accepted because I was gay?
I hadn’t actually seen Sawyer in all his biker glory with his club cut or jacket, though I’d seen the sexy man on that beast of a machine a couple of times. Was the Sawyer I’d come to know from that one night the same Sawyer his fellow Cowboys knew?
“Would you mind meeting me at the club’s restaurant at four? It’s called The Roundup. It’s on Hafen Ranch Road, about four miles from NV-160. Or I can come get you if that’s easier.” Sawyer’s voice was soft and unsure, which made my heart pound.
Sawyer was sexy, sort of reserved at times, and he had an air about him that told me he was a born leader who would easily entice others to follow him. It was no wonder he was the president of an outlaw motorcycle club. I had the feeling he wasn’t completely good or completely bad, and I wasn’t sure where I stood with that.
“Sure. I’ll see you at the restaurant at four.” We ended the call, and I tossed my phone on the bed and took a seat on the side to stew for a few minutes.
I’d been in the military for years, and then I joined the US Marshals Service where I worked for a good long stint. For most of my life I’d been on what most people deemed was therightside of the law. On the side of justice.
As I pondered the many things that had happened over the years while I was a deputy US Marshal, I had to wonder what justice even looked like anymore. Every day, the type of justice I believed in seemed further and further from what I’d seen around me on television, social media, or in person.
I finished dressing and headed to the office. Sparky was already there and huffing as he stood in the kitchen. “Good morning,” I said as I stepped into the room and waited for my turn at the coffee pot.
“Is it? Is it agoodmorning?”
I was surprised at Sparky’s mood. He wasn’t Sally Sunshine by any stretch, but usually, he was decent in the morning when we started the workday.
“Everything okay?” He finished filling his mug and stepped away, just as Denise came into the kitchen with a box of donuts.
