For Seven Nights Only - Sarah Ballance Page 0,12

seen you around.”

“We normally walk near the water,” she said. “Marmaduke and I, I mean. Not my brother. We like to watch for fish.”

The water? Oh, hell no.

He. Hated. Water.

He also hated fish.

And he was really starting to hate this guy. While his dog ran apeshit, the jerk was running his hand down her arm, way too touchy-feely for a stranger, especially when Kelsie wasn’t encouraging him. Only…she was. In response, she turned that gorgeous smile of hers on him. And all because he’d almost nailed her with a Frisbee?

Nope.

“Hey, Kelsie,” he called across the short distance, not entirely sure why he was so pissed. He’d probably pulled the same moves a dozen times. “Your boyfriend just texted me. Said you’re not responding to his messages.”

She shot him the proverbial look that could kill, but he didn’t care. And now that he had her attention, he pulled the scarf out of her hand and took it upon himself to put it back around her neck, covering her exposed skin the way she’d had it back when she thought the only guy looking at her would be him.

Her stilted attempt to visually pulverize him—presumably without scaring off the other guy—left Sawyer grinning. Until she jerked the scarf completely loose so it barely clung to her shoulders, leaving her entire neck exposed. Her neck. Which really shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did.

He glared.

She glared.

The douche backed off and started looking around, probably for his dog. Or maybe for another woman.

Mission accomplished. Unconventional, but whatever it took.

“What did you do that for?” she asked tersely.

Just in case she was as mad as she looked, he angled away from her and her knee. “That guy was a tool. Promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because his dog tried to swallow Minidick whole, and that asshole was too busy trying to cop a feel to stop him. Not that you noticed.”

Her face fell to the point that he was pretty sure he was the tool. She probably didn’t see him frown—she was too busy looking for her mutt, who was parked behind Sawyer’s legs—but he saw hers. Jerk.

“But look at the bright side,” he said. “He was definitely interested.”

“His dog almost ate my dog.”

Yeah, and guilt ate at Sawyer. He sighed. “Take a walk. Make eye contact. I guarantee someone else will strike up a conversation.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I don’t see another woman here by herself without her face glued to her phone. You’ll be beating them off with a stick.” Which kind of pissed him off, but whatever. He definitely needed to find her a date before guilt over upsetting her gnawed him into a corner. A water-filled corner of nopes.

Her gaze tracked left, then right, before resting on him. “Okay, you have a point. This is incredibly awkward.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m standing entirely too close to a mini-mutt in a pink vest.”

“It’s a harness.”

“It’s still pink. We’re both emasculated.”

She blinked. “You’re speaking for the dog?”

He held out his arms for emphasis and kind of wished she’d fall into them. “We’ve finally bonded. The dog and I, that is.”

She rolled her eyes, but her face quickly softened into a smile. “Thanks for this, Sawyer.”

“Go.”

Not surprisingly, she didn’t make it far before a man stopped her. Within seconds, they were both grinning like idiots. The man was wearing a business suit before eight on a Saturday morning and carried a briefcase. In a dog park. After a conversation that lasted far too long for his comfort, they parted ways. Kelsie shot a glance back at Sawyer, at which point Minidick also saw him and started snarling.

Sawyer wasn’t the least bit intimidated, although he sort of got how the dog felt. He felt like snarling, too, and he wasn’t sure why. She could have been the hottest woman on the planet and not the least bit inclined to hide herself under baggy clothes, and even if she’d just crawled out of his bed, he still wouldn’t care who she talked to. He didn’t date, he didn’t stake claims, and he sure as hell didn’t do relationships. Just the word made him shudder. Nothing terrified him more. He’d grown up thinking he’d eventually find someone perfect for him, to have the kind of life his parents had. He’d just never met the right person. But his brother had and married his high school sweetheart. Then Ethan’s wife, Amy, died, and if that shocking loss and shattered perfection hadn’t ruined Sawyer’s opinion on happily ever afters, Ethan’s