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Cole
Four days.
Four days to make a decision that would take any other girl on the planet less than four seconds to agree to.
I tried to be patient with her.
I tried not to lose my shit when she dodged me at school and ignored my text messages.
But when I saw Cortland walk up to her at lunch today and ask if she was seeing anyone, and she told him no…her time was up.
Sawyer Church is my girlfriend…whether she likes it or not.
The ball is no longer in her court.
It’s in my motherfucking hands.
Which is exactly why I’m pulling up to her house.
Where she can’t snub me.
Grunting, I grab the bouquet of pink peonies from my passenger seat.
According to Bianca, every woman loves flowers, and these are a solid choice.
All I know is they better work.
I’m nervous as I amble up the walkway, which is unlike me.
The red brick house is almost pitifully small and in desperate need of a power wash and professional landscaping, but if you overlook all that, it’s not so bad.
I look for a bell when I reach the front door, but there isn’t one.
“Who the fuck doesn’t have a doorbe—”
The front door swings open and I’m greeted by a tall, stout man with salt and pepper hair and a beard.
He looks less than thrilled to see me.
“Can I help you?”
His twang is thicker than Sawyer’s. And nowhere near as sexy.
I clear my throat, unsure of how to answer.
Something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate me informing him that I have every intention of fucking his daughter so good she’s going to start calling me daddy soon.
Instead, I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you. Is your daughter home?”
It’s a dumb question. Sawyer’s van is in the driveway.
He shakes my hand so hard I’m thankful practice is over for the day.
“Which one?”
He says it like it’s some kind of test.
Truth be told, I had no idea Sawyer had a sister. Interesting.
“Sawye—”
“Dan, who’s at the doo—oh.”
The woman’s eyebrows shoot up when she spots me.
She, too, has a twang. “Well, hello there. How do you do?”
Her mom is a slender, attractive brunette who looks a little younger than she probably is, but not nearly as young as she thinks she looks.
The only physical features Sawyer shares with her mother are her perfectly straight white teeth and long dark hair.
“He’s here to see Sawyer,” he enlightens her.
Confusion etches her features. “Sawyer?” She spots the flowers in my hand. “Oh. Are you selling flow—”
“Who’s here to see me—shit.”
The girl of the hour looks like she’s seen a ghost.
“Sawyer Grace, you mind your tongue in front of company,” her mother scolds.
I grin. “Sawyer Grace, huh? That’s a nice name.”
The glare she gives me could resurrect the dead and kill them all over again. “What are you doing here, Covington?”
“You told me I had to meet your parents.”
She blinks. “Like hell I did—”
“Sawyer,” her mother scolds for a second time.
“Sorry, Mama.” I can tell she wants to punch me, but she can’t because her parents would frown on it.
Well, her mom would. Her dad looks like he’d most definitely approve.
“Goodness me, don’t keep us all in suspense,” her mother proclaims. “Who is this young man?”
Her throat bobs on a swallow. “He’s—”
“I’m her boyfriend.”