Sugar on the Edge

Sugar on the Edge by Sawyer Bennett Page B

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Authors: Sawyer Bennett
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earlier, is gone. He’s dressed same as he was, in a pair of faded jeans and an olive green T-shirt that fits his upper body well. His feet are bare and his hair dark hair is slightly disheveled. I’m not sure if it’s the five o’clock shadow he’s sporting, or his smoky gray eyes, but he looks dark, dangerous, and utterly freakin’ gorgeous. Add on that silky, smooth British accent, and he’s what you’d call a classic panty-melter. That is, if he kept his condescending, cranky mouth shut, which would then obviate the sexy accent. Still, his looks alone would make a woman twitchy and damp.
    I walk over to my purse on the kitchen counter and grab it, rustling around inside for my keys. Keeping my eyes averted from his, I say, “That’s a shrimp stir-fry in the wok and there’s some rice in the pot next to it. I um… left you a few other things in the fridge.”
    Heading for the front door, I hear him open the refrigerator. “What’s all this?”
    Turning around, I bring my gaze to his and he looks confused. So I elucidate. “I made you a few casseroles. Instructions are taped to the top on how to cook it. That will hold you over until Friday.”
    I reach for the doorknob, but he stops me. “Why don’t you stay… eat dinner with me?”
    My jaw sags a little, completely caught off guard. This was the guy that was manhandling and cursing at me a few hours ago, and now he’s inviting me to eat with him?
    “Um… I really should get home,” I hedge, because it just feels totally awkward to share a meal with this man.
    Gavin walks over to the stove and lifts the lid off the wok. He takes a sniff and his lips curve upward. Turning to me, he says, “Stay. This is way too much food for just me.”
    My eyes dart around the room, my brain frantically trying to come up with an excuse to decline his invitation. He doesn’t wait for me though, reaching into the cabinet and grabbing another plate. “Come on. I don’t bite,” he cajoles.
    “No, you just threaten and intimidate,” I mutter softly.
    “I heard that,” he says with a grin.
    I can’t help the smile I give in return and with a sigh, I drop my purse to the floor by the front door. Walking back into the kitchen, I take a seat at the kitchen island and watch as Gavin fills my plate up. He grabs a fork and knife from the drawer, handing it across the counter to me.
    “What’s with the nice act all of a sudden?” I can’t help but ask. I figured if I could call him an asshole earlier and retain my job, he wouldn’t be too perturbed over that question.
    Shrugging his shoulders, Gavin fills his plate up and walks around the counter to sit beside me. “I guess I had a great day writing, despite the caterwauling noises you were making earlier.”
    My cheeks heat, but he’s opened the door to my own curiosity. I had Googled Gavin a few days ago, and was surprised to find he was a New York Times best-selling author. His first book, Killing the Tides , was a huge, international success and sounded so intriguing, I one-clicked that bad boy for my Kindle.
    “I bought Killing the Tides a few days ago and started reading it in my spare time,” I say before popping a shrimp in my mouth.
    “Really?” he asks with amusement. “So what do you think of it?”
    “It’s really great,” I say after swallowing my food. I spear a sugar snap pea and open my mouth again.
    “No… what do you really think about it?” he asks, his gaze probing, his meal neglected.
    Setting my fork down, I turn slightly in my chair to face him. “I think it’s raw, disturbing, and overwhelming. It reminds me of you.”
    Picking up his own fork, he stabs a shrimp and gives me a dark smile that sends shivers up my spine. “Good answer.”

Savannah doesn’t know me well at all, but she understands that Killing the Tides was borne of a pervasive darkness that’s within me. While she’ll never know the hell I was mired in while I wrote that manuscript, she understands fully that

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