Page 21 of The Story of Us
Sawyer’s gut clenched as Jamie floated toward Eric, diaphanous black chiffon swirling around her legs. He told himself the only reason she seemed so excited about being Eric’s partner was because he was on the town council. He also told himself that was the only reason it bothered him—the idea that she might gain another ally against his project. But coming up with a justification for that sinking feeling in his stomach was little consolation. He wasn’t even sure he believed his excuses.
He turned toward Anita and offered her his elbow. “Well?”
“Okay. Thank you.” She slipped her arm through his.
“All right.” Sawyer nodded, and they made their way toward the cooking stations.
He absolutely didnotchoose the table next to Jamie and Eric’s on purpose. It was simply where they landed…
Just in time to hear Eric tell Jamie how great she looked.
Jamie smiled up at him. “Thank you. You do too.”
Sawyer had the sudden urge to stab a certain city councilman with the butter knife at his station. What. Was. Happening? There was a quiet storm brewing inside him, completely out of the blue. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was jealousy.
Fortunately—or not so fortunately for Rick—another disaster in the making tore Sawyer’s attention away from Jamie’s impromptu date and his own inconvenient sense of unease. Lucy appeared as if she was on the verge of pairing off with a stranger as her cooking partner, and that definitely wasn’t part of the plan. An unattached guy in a chunky cardigan was smiling and crossing the room toward her with determined footsteps.
Oh, boy.
Rick cast a panicked glance at Sawyer. What was he supposed to do—physically throw himself between them? That seemed extreme, even for a wingman.
“Hi.” Lucy returned Sweater Guy’s smile. “Do you want to…”
She pointed at the only unoccupied cooking station, and Sweater Guy nodded. “Sure.”
“I’m Lucy.” Lucy extended her hand.
Sweater Guy shook it gently, and then offered her one of the aprons from their station. “I’m Quinten.”
Lucy pulled the apron over her head. “I like your sweater.”
Ouch.
At the head of the class, Rick visibly wilted, his spirit sinking faster than a ruined soufflé. Sawyer needed to do something. Fast.
He cleared his throat as he tied his own apron in place. “All right, Chef. What is on the menu?”
It worked—temporarily, at least. The room grew quiet as the attendees waited to hear what they would be cooking.
“We’re going to start off with an arugula salad, marinated figs, cherry tomatoes and feta cheese.” Rick sighed, shoulders slumped.
“Mmmm,” Lucy said, loud enough for everyone—including Rick—to hear.
Rick brightened somewhat. “Followed by our entree of miso-glazed salmon, roasted potatoes and bok choy.”
Lucy gasped. “I love glazed salmon!”
Shocker.
Sawyer bit back a smile. Watching Rick attempt to woo a woman by way of seafood would’ve been painful if it weren’t so amusing. He’d never seen Rick so off his game before.
“What’s for dessert?” Sawyer prompted, because again, Rick couldn’t seem to do more than just stand there staring at Lucy with a panicked grin plastered on his face.
“Raspberry chocolate torte.”
Nice choice. The room erupted intooohsandahhs.
Rick managed to take a breath and laugh until Lucy gave Sweater Guy a playful punch as she shouted, “Yes!”
