13
Sawyer stood out on the road between his ranch and Remy’s farm, just at the fork between the two winding driveways. He glanced at his watch, starting to feel a little nervous. He smoothed out the front of his navy dress shirt; he’d deliberately worn his cowboy boots and Stetson just for Remy, because she seemed to like him dressed like that.
He was also flat-out avoiding Merissa and Stacey’s texts and calls. There was only one blonde who had his attention just at this moment, and she was only a stone’s throw away at River Farm. D.C. seemed like a lifetime away.
The fresh bouquet of flowers he was holding felt like a strange weight in his hand. When was the last time he’d apologized to a woman like this? Not even apologizing for being his usual cocky jerk of a self, but instead for in
