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every happy motherfucker you knew?”
    He nods, waiting patiently for me to go on.
    “She was there, at the race. Now she thinks I’m shit before we even really meet.”
    “Who is she?”
    “Skipper Stripper, the most beautiful girl on Earth. And her voice, ahhh,” I moan, letting my head fall back and my eyes drop closed. “Her fucking voice, those lips—my God. And she’s cool! I knew it!”
    “Why would she think badly of you?”
    I rub my both my hands furiously over my head. “She may have walked up on me gettin’ a blowjob.”
    “At the race?”
    “At the race.”
    “Only you.” He shakes his head back and forth. “So we’re talking about the girl from Parker’s party, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Sawyer, that was months ago. That’s some serious pining time you’ve put in, bud. What if she’s not everything you’ve built her up to be?”
    I turn to him, thinking about it for a minute. “What if she is?”
    He stands, giving me a knowing smile. “What if she is? Come on,” he pats my shoulder, “let’s go home.”

Chapter 4
    Interview with a Vixen
    —Sawyer—

    I ’m stacking glasses, “Hurt” by Johnny Cash cranked up, when Dane comes strolling into The K. He reaches for the panel and turns down my soundtrack.
    “How’s life? Any better?”
    “Well, I fired Brock, the douchebag,” I grumble. He’s lucky I didn’t kick his ass while I was at it. “So I moved Kasey to security with a raise and myself behind the bar. Oh,” I snap, “and I finally figured out what the fucking fox says, so yeah, I’m golden.”
    Chuckling, he hands me some papers. “Good to hear. I forgot I had this interview and Laney’s waiting for me. Could you do it?”
    I skim over the resume he’s handed me. “What are we hiring for?”
    “Waitress for nights and behind the bar for lunch if she wants it.”
    “Yeah, I got it,” I assure him, not feeling like looking at his happy-in-love face. “Get outta here.”
    “See ya, brother.” He slaps the bar and winks at me.
    Why the fuck is he winking at me? God, I hope he gets some…from his WOMAN.
    I start to make my way up the stairs to Dane’s office, not at all in the mood to play nice through an interview, when Dane calls out and stops me. “Sawyer?”
    “Yeah?” I say as I turn. What the fuck does he want now?
    “Do you trust yourself?”
    “What?” I back down the two steps I’d taken and close the gap between us. “Dude, you’re winking at me, asking weird shit…did someone leave glue open around you or what?”
    “Do. You. Trust. Yourself?” he repeats, quirking one brow like he does when he’s challenging someone.
    “Of course I do. Why? Do you trust yourself?”
    “Absolutely.” He nods. “Which is why when naysayers give me shit or try to plant doubt, I have no problem ignoring them.”
    I just stare at him, trying to discretely discern the size of his pupils; I honestly think he sniffed glue.
    He puts one hand on my shoulder and grins. “You and I, we’re go with our gut kinda guys. Don’t change.”
    It takes me a minute to file all that gibberish away and head up to the office. If I thought he’d just thrown me for a loop with that weird talk, then what happens next is a full-out circle around the fucking globe. When I open the door, I’m dumbstruck.
    Her name is Emmett L. Young, and I finally know this because that’s the name on the resume I’m holding and she is sitting in Dane’s office.
    I told you—that guy has scary ways of making things happen. And he can wink at me and sniff glue any fucking time he wants, ‘cause I kinda love him right now.
    “Hi,” I manage as I walk further into the office and offer her my hand. “Sawyer Beckett.”
    She stands with a subdued smirk, her wide, shocked eyes quickly grazing over me. “Emmett Young,” she says as she shakes my hand. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Beckett.” Her voice pours out like warm honey as she retakes her seat.
    “What’s the L stand