The Negotiator (Harbor City 1)

A flutter of anticipation made her catch her breath. It wasn’t fair. He only called her that when they were either naked or damn close to getting there. Snapping her legs shut, she let her fingers do a whole other kind of talking.

Clover: Don’t call me that.

Sawyer: ???

Clover: You know exactly what name I’m talking about.

Sawyer: You’ve always liked it when I called you that before…and what we were doing when I called you that.

Bastard. He may not be a great flirt, but he was definitely getting better. Or maybe it was just that he knew her well enough to know exactly how to get her off track. Well, it wasn’t going to work.

Clover: Not my amused face —>

Sawyer: I can fix that.

Her nipples peaked at the suggestion. Down girls, we’re mad at him.

Clover: How? By sneaking out in the middle of the night and going back to Harbor City?

Sawyer: And break your mom’s heart? No way.

Clover: Your ego is out of control. I’m serious. This is my family.

Sawyer: I know. Look, can we do this in person?

She could barely do this by text. Meeting him in person was not a good idea. He’d screwed her over when he’d changed his mind and decided to stay for family brunch tomorrow. Still, she wanted to see him. Anda el diablo. There was no winning. She chickened out and stayed in her room and would be miserable. She snuck out of the house and took him down the dock so they could talk without fear of being overheard and she would be miserable.

But with one option you actually get to see him. You won’t be able to do that after tomorrow.

She swallowed past the rock that had formed in her throat and typed with trembling fingers, unsure of anything except the fact that this was more than likely a mistake—one she had to make.

Clover: Meet me at the back gate. You’ll have to go out the window—>garage roof—>shed roof—>ground.

Sawyer: What am I, 16? And how often did you sneak out?

Clover: None of your business. And my mom’s a super light sleeper, if she hears you walking around she’ll want to be a good hostess and see what you need then she’ll never get any sleep and she needs it tonight.

Sawyer: So out the window I go.

Clover slipped on her jeans and grabbed a sweatshirt to pull over her tank top if it got cold. Shoving her cell in her back pocket, she tiptoed up the staircase from her basement room—sticking to the right side to avoid the squeaky sections—and hustled out the kitchen door that led out to her mom’s garden on the side of the house. The strawberries were out in full force along with spinach, tomatoes, and bell peppers among other things—along with an entire army of bizarre garden gnomes. From lumberjacks to bakers to evil witches to half gnome/half animal hybrids, her mom’s collection had doubled from when Clover still lived at home. It was weird but at least it made finding a birthday gift easy.

She walked around the corner of the house and over to the back gate where Sawyer stood in the light of the full moon staring at the gnome-shaped gate handle.

“Your mom has a weird thing for gnomes,” he said.

“You have no idea.” She opened the gate, intertwined her fingers with his, and walked through. “Come on.”

The line of trees between the backyard and Lake Earhart had been her first playground for adventure filled with hollowed out trees that served as fairy kingdoms, pirates that lived in the branches overhead, and—of course—an entire village of gnomes plotting worldwide domination. When she got older, it was where she’d gone to escape and plan. Now, holding Sawyer’s hand, she looked up at the thick green leaves overhead and the bright wildflowers at her feet and realized that she couldn’t remember a day when she wasn’t running away from the white picket existence she’d been born into. However, instead of running to the trees or the lake beyond them, she went around the globe.

It only took a minute of traipsing through the trees before they got to the small clearing around the lake and her family’s dock that led out into it. Her dad’s boat was moored at the marina at the other end of the lake, but the summer storage box sat at the end of the dock. She hurried over to it and pulled out a blanket so they wouldn’t get splinters in their ass while they sat and figured out how to get through tomorrow without giving her dad a heart attack for real. Then after a few days, she’d break the news to her family from the safety of Harbor City. Chicken? Her? Absolutely.

She sat down facing the lake, it’s waters smooth and inky blue. “We need to come up with the details that will make tomorrow work—and it can’t be the truth because I really don’t want to welcome dad home by giving him a heart attack for real.”

“We already did, remember?” He sat down next to her, close enough that their hips and thighs touched, sending a jolt of electricity dancing along her skin. “The napkin?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not gonna fly with my family. My mom is like a laser-guided missile when it comes to the truth. Nothing gets past her.”

He shrugged and lay back on the blanket, his arms folded so his hands were behind his head. In a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark indigo jeans that clung to his hips, he looked like he belonged here in the world she’d grown up in. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been as at ease in his office at the top of Carlyle Tower as he’d been at the flea market haggling over the metal medical cart they’d renovated. Unlike her inability to fit into his world, he’d done just fine finding a place for himself in hers.