From the writer of Sweet Spot, comes the sequel of two familiar characters you already saw coming.
Harper Davis has many titles: marketing connoisseur, almost-lawyer, disappointment to parents, and most importantly: liar. Big. Fat. Liar. But what el...
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I grab Mao's cage and lift it out of the seat, shutting the car door with my hip. He's anxious, clawing at the grate and demanding to be let out.
"Give me a sec, Mao," I tell him tiredly. I don't blame the guy. He hasn't been in a cage since I rescued him a year ago so he's probably anxious and remembering some tough times. "Almost there."
"He'll be fine in a different place?" Sawyer asks me as he lifts our bags out of the trunk, closing it.
We walk up my parents driveway and I ring the doorbell before answering.
"Probably not but I couldn't find anyone to watch him. Ser is visiting her parents this week too, and Dani and Iris have a few appointments this weekend for the baby."
"Poor Mao." Sawyer bends and peeks into the cage. "I'll sneak treats to you when your mommy isn't looking."
"Mommy will beat your ass."
"You should try saying that to me when we're in bed."
I turn on him with a murderous glare at the same time the front door opens. I'm just as quick to plaster on what I hope is a believable smile at the sight of my father and hope like hell he didn't hear that. Sawyer needs all the brownie points he can get right now.
"Hey, Dad," I greet.
"Harper," he smiles and opens the door further. "Come in. Nice to see you again, Sawyer."
Sawyer walks in behind me and puts our bags down. He shakes Dad's hand with a wide smile. "Dave Davis. It's been a while."
Dad is not amused. I can tell he's way over hearing his full name like that and Sawyer shows no signs of stopping. The smile he offers back is entirely forced and fake.
"Sawyer," he replies formally. He gestures to Mao's cage. "I set up the litter already. Should I take him?"
"He's antsy," I explain as I hand the cage to him. "You can let him roam the backyard first. See if he's interested. If not he'll wander back inside on his own."
Dad nods and takes him. Sawyer takes my coat off for me and hangs it up before moving on to his own. I wander to the kitchen to check for mom and find her heating up something on the stove. There's empty takeout boxes on the kitchen island.
"I didn't have time to make anything," she says briskly, as if I don't know that she rarely cooks if she can help it. Hell, my nanny was basically an in-house chef too.
"No problem," I shrug and leave it at that.
If I was the kind of kid that fought back against her parents or didn't feel like she was disrespecting them by speaking her mind, I might say something snarky because she did insult my food when I cooked for her last. Food that she probably wouldn't even know how to begin to cook. But this is about keeping the peace, if what she said earlier is what she meant by that. Plus, talking back to my mother isn't even considered an option. My Asian side is far too stronger than my white in that regard.
