Free Last First Kiss by Lia Riley

turned away with a shrug. Guess being sheriff had its perks, as did adding another two inches of height and twenty pounds of muscle. A sweet warmth pooled in her lower abdomen as he smiled back at her. Gregor never stared like he saw her , the Annie that existed deeper than her mere face, or body, and other outward manifestations of self. Not like Sawyer and his gorgeous green eyes. The effect was disorienting, but a little addictive.
    “S-so,” she stammered, struggling to recalibrate to this new reality, the one where Sawyer was a friend, or . . . something. “That was so great of you helping out today, finding Atticus.”
    “Glad I could be of assistance. You looked like you . . .”
    She realized what he was going to say, and maybe she should be offended, at least a little. “Go on, get it out,” she said, belly tightening.
    “I didn’t mean anything rude,” he said.
    “You wanted to say I needed help.”
    “Yes, but not in the way you might—”
    “You know, I can’t argue the facts. Maybe I need a hand.”
    “It must be hard, being a single mom.” He nodded at the top of Atticus’s head.
    “He’s my little buddy. His father . . . ” Wasn’t around much. Didn’t care about children. Annie hadn’t said a stray word about her ex in front of her son, and she could only hope that she never would. Atticus needed his father and Gregor was off doing some sort of mid-life cuddle pile party. She’d spied a flier when she was there a few days ago, picking up Atticus so they could make the drive to California with as much daylight as possible before starting. It advertised an Orgasmic Meditation course, to become a Certified Master Stroker.
    Annie couldn’t begin to wrap her head around what that meant. Or maybe she could, and it was that easy. Divorce to her meant soul-searching, navel-gazing, late nights alone with Joni Mitchell and Norah Jones on iTunes wondering where she went wrong. Divorce to Gregor meant finger-banging strange women in a sanctioned yoga classroom.
    “His father’s a good guy, but he worked a lot at the university.” She cast a gaze to Atticus and back to Sawyer, silently willing him to see there was more there, a lot more, but her son didn’t need to hear it.
    Sawyer’s mouth lost its easy angle, flicked to a more rigid shape, stern and just this side of angry. Not hard to see a sheriff in that moment. He was the quintessential strong silent type. The in-charge, don’t-mess-with-me man of the law. But also the stargazing guy with an easy smile and kind word.
    Who was the real Sawyer? Her feelings for him had been balled up like a crumpled piece of paper for years. They might have started to smooth things out, but creases remained. She’d never return to that innocent, reckless abandon of first love. He’d stolen that from her, on purpose or not. Maybe it was irrational. It wasn’t Sawyer she hated; it was the fact she’d given him the power to hurt her, and his brand of kindness was its own dangerous form of seduction. Her whole body craved it like a sunflower long deprived of light.
    “Okay, well, I’m sure you’ve got other people to visit. Atticus and I will go set up a blanket for the fireworks, and tonight I’ll drive slow. Scout’s honor. No stop sign will go unnoticed.”
    Sawyer shrugged and looked out at the crowd, spreading out across the rodeo grounds. So many people, and right now, all she wanted was his company. “What if we watch the meteor shower back up on our hill, between our places? It’s owned by the National Forest, so neutral ground.”
    “Our own Switzerland.”
    “It will be quieter. We can talk better.” His look was typically inscrutable, but there, just there, the flicker. That was definitely a flicker. Was it her imagination or did his gaze hold some sort of promise?
    She tested out a laugh that sounded suitably breezy, even as her insides were melting faster than vanilla ice cream at noon. “Now, I’ve been gone a long time, but