Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

“Wow,” Echo said with a little sigh as we walked into the kitchen. Gray granite over white cabinets and those same windows pouring sunshine into the room made it feel almost weightless in the way that a good home did. Not a house, but a place where you came home to the woman you loved. Where your bad day stopped at the door, and everything waiting for you inside made the rest of the shit outside bearable.

I opened the pantry door and eyed the rows of shelves and small counter. It was a full butler’s pantry that I knew would come in handy on late nights that neither of us wanted to shop or order out. We’d be able to stock everything we could want and then some.

My heart turned over in my chest. Shit. I liked this house because I saw her here. Echo. I saw a life with her in the kitchen, in the sun-drenched living room, and in my bed—wherever that would be.

“That’s an incredible pantry,” Echo said, peeking her head around me.

I gripped her hand and tugged her into the small room, then shut the door behind us before backing her against the sturdy oak. Then my mouth was on hers, kissing her ravenously. She tasted just like sunshine. Light. Endless. Home.

Her fingers tunneled through my hair as she kissed me back. I loved that about her—the way she never held back from me. She was always in one-hundred percent, and it made it so damn easy to be open with her. Honest. Real. I loved the way she kissed, the way she laughed, the way her mind worked.

I savored the way her tongue twined against mine, and as I felt my cock ready for something we didn’t have time for, I pulled back from her and gently kissed her nose.

“I really like this pantry,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah, me too.” I liked who was in the pantry more than anything else about it.

We walked out of the pantry holding hands, and Faith cleared her throat from the living room. “So, what do you think about this one?”

I took one look at the woman at my side and grinned.

“I’ll take it.”

14

Echo

“Y’all crushed it tonight!” I high-fived the lead singer of Starfall, the rest of the band settling at the bar for an after-hours drink. The up and coming local band had drawn in a large crowd tonight and Scythe’s walls and pulsed with energy from their unique mashup of southern and blues.

“The place has some killer acoustics,” Morgan said, her bright red hair brushing her chin as she surveyed the bar. “I hope we’re invited back,” she said, turning to face me as I slid her a vodka tonic.

“Always,” I said, pouring the band the rest of their drinks. “I love your sound.” I grinned. “And the crowd you draw isn’t too bad either.”

Morgan gave me a fistbump before taking a sip of her drink. She exhaled, her eyes closing for a moment. “That’s nice,” she said, then eyed me. “Have a drink with us?”

I shrugged. “Why not?” I poured myself a finger of top-shelf bourbon and took a sip. The bar was already officially shut down, the last customers filing out a half-hour ago. I hadn’t yet locked the doors—I was expecting Sawyer any minute—but I had turned off the open sign.

“Where are you headed next?” I asked, leaning against the back of the bar with my drink in hand.

Morgan furrowed her brow before glancing to her guitarist. “Where do we play next, Cash?”

The guitarist brushed back some of his feathered black hair. “Nashville, Mor.” He gave her a lazy grin. “I swear without us you’d never know where to start singing.”

Morgan just shrugged. “That is why I keep y’all around.”

The bassist—a tall, lithe man with eyes of crushing blue and silky midnight hair—gaped at her. “Oh sure,” he said. “It couldn’t be for our talents.” He wiggled his long fingers at her, his nails painted black, and she giggled.

My gaze darted between the two, my lips pressed together to hide my smile. Something electric sparked between the pair, yet they were trying to hide it.

“Maybe,” she finally said, shaking her head. “Maybe I like your talents.”

“Get a room,” Cash grumbled, but there was a smile on his face too.

I watched the banter play back and forth between the bandmates through two more drinks, and joined in on occasion. I found it highly interesting how close-knit the band was, like they were family more than coworkers, and couldn’t help but compare it to the relationship dynamic of the Reapers. I hadn’t exactly been folded into that family yet, but with the girls’ friendship and Sawyer, I was dangerously close to having my own family to claim.

A tight knot settled in my throat. Claiming family, claiming anyone only tripled the pain when they left in the end. Not that the Reapers would technically leave—not with their arena a few blocks away—but they could choose to leave me. Leave my bar and dominate another as their home base outside of the arena.