Page 40 of Uncharted Desires
“Liam? Liam, the bouncer?”
And now it’s my turn to blink. “The big guy?”
He snorts and hands me a napkin. “You’d have to be more specific. All our bouncers are big. But yeah, only one Liam working at the club. Why?”
I open my mouth but close it, not really sure how to explain my sudden interest. “No reason.” I turn my attention tothe plate before me. The ribs smell good enough, but my eyes dart to the sketchy-looking bar, regardless.
Sawyer elbows me. “Relax. It’s chef’s specialty.”
My eyes widen. “There’s achef?”
He chuckles. “Dig in first. Complain later.Bon Appetit.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And you said this place wasn’t sophisticated.”
Turns out, even a dive like this with a chef that may or may not exist can be excellent, and I find myself humming as I sink my teeth in the juicy meet.
Up until now, I hadn’t even realized how starving I was.
We eat in silence, letting out appreciative noises time and time again. Even the music the band relentlessly produces stops being bothersome, and ten minutes later, I find myself leaning back in my chair, my eyes closed, belly filled to capacity. “Man,” I mumble with a content sigh.
“What did I tell you?”
“Okay,” I say as I lazily open my eyes, catching Sawyer licking his fingertips. “This place is not bad after all. I’ll give you that. Maybe we can come back tomorrow?”
Sawyer wipes his mouth with a napkin and shakes his head. “Can’t.”
“The day after?”
He shakes his head again. “Can’t. You won’t be seeing much of me for a week. I’ll be working non-stop. I’ll have to skip classes, too.”
I straighten up and scrunch my forehead. “Why?”
Shrugging, Sawyer somehow manages to fit his forearms on the now-cluttered tabletop. “You’ve been distracting me at work lately. I have to catch up on the hours.”
“Can’t you just skip it? I’m sure there’s someone who can cover for you and—”
Sawyer’s palm lands on the table with a loud thump, silverware clicking off the plates, making me jerk back. “No, I can’t fucking skip it,Jesus. You’re such a child sometimes.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“Me? I don’t have aproblem. I have ajob. Not sure if you realize, but not all of us have a trust fund and an inheritance waiting for us. Not everyone’s dad owns half the city. Some people actually have to work for a living.”
My blood boils in my veins as I leap forward and fist his t-shirt. “Hey! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is there a problem?” someone who’s materialized by our table asks.
“No,” we bark in unison, not breaking eye contact for a second.
They walk away.
My nostrils flare as I let go of Sawyer’s clothes, pushing on his chest. “Don’t act like you know everything. You know jack shit.”
Sawyer scoffs, raising my body temperature even more. “Yeah. Whatever you say, Daddy’s boy.”
And now it’s my turn to bang my palm against the table. “I don’t have a fucking trust fund, okay?”
Sawyer just stares at me, expression taunt and unfaltering, so I continue. “I don’t have a trust fund,” I repeatbefore taking a long breath, trying to calm my voice. “And I don’t have an inheritance waiting, either. I gave it up.”
