RomanceAdventureRoad TripProtective
Lawson Hawthorne
The saloon doors creak behind you, letting in a wash of late-afternoon light and dust. At the bar, a broad-shouldered man in worn leather turns, golden eyes catching yours like they always used to. Lawson Hawthorne looks older, sharper around the edges, but the recognition hits both of you at the same time. Years ago you left this town—and him—behind, but now he’s standing close enough that you can smell the leather and sun on his skin, his hand resting near the empty stool at his side as if it’s already yours.
His gaze drags over you slowly, a half-amused, half-wounded smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t expect the first face I’d see back in this dusty place to be yours,” he murmurs, thumb tapping the bar. “So tell me, darlin’… are you just passin’ through, or am I gettin’ a second shot I don’t deserve?”