4. Christian
christian
“So was that your appointment on Wednesday?” I asked Sage, pointing the neck of my bottle at her wrist. The sleeves of her cranberry-colored thermal were pushed up while she poured J?ger shots for a group of loggers who’d just stomped in on muddy boots, giving me a peek of the newest ink on the underside of her forearm.
Not much got past me when it came to Sage Pardy.
It was a black and gray tattoo of a winding road through pine trees, leading up to a mountain peak.
There was a pale, thin scar beneath it that I knew by heart.
I’d memorized everything about her, right down to the paint trapped beneath her nails and along her cuticles.
I always knew when she’d spent a day painting, because it would take a whole day and a half of hand scrubbing before the stains washed off.
She’d asked me to take Arlo on Wednesday while she went to an appointment.
He’d been cooped up with the snow and he needed a visit to the farm.
Her — our — heeler, possibly shepherd mix, was a busy guy.
She felt bad keeping him up in her apartment for long periods of time when she was at work or busy working on the art gallery.
She rescued him when, I think, they both needed each other most. He was a working dog that if left alone for too long, his boredom would turn destructive.
There were many nights I volunteered to stay with him while she closed at the bar to keep him from chewing up the furniture or scratching a hole in the front door.
I was happy to do it. I loved that dog as if he were my own.
Sage’s eyes flicked up to mine with the final pour, momentarily reflecting the light of the neon beer signs. Beautiful. I inwardly sighed.
“Yeah, it was a quick hour session,” she said as she turned her back to me, her beaded earrings swaying, as she returned the bottle to the shelf.
“You’ve been getting a lot lately,” I commented.
Her dark lashes shadowed her eyes as she looked away. Her ruby lips were set firm, just as they always were when she was irritated.
She’d worn a high-necked sweater vest a couple of weeks ago, showing off a beautiful black and gray great horned owl, framed with wildflowers on her upper arm.
I knew she had more. She’d been adding to her collection over the past few months, many of them I had yet to see, other than a peek of a line here and there through the tears in her jeans.
“Yep.” Her reply was short and dismissive. She popped the P and ended it with an exasperated exhale. I tried to peek beneath the fringe of lashes to see her bright starburst around her pupils as she continued to fill drink orders, hoping she’d let me read her under that thick wall of hers.
Tessa, one of the other bartenders and a former classmate of mine, was running drinks and payments back and forth. “Kale just told me you guys are heading to Vegas,” she commented, checking the next order and placing drinks on her tray.
Sage finally looked up at me with that bit of news. Those big amber eyes flared to life and her cheeks sucked in like she was holding her breath.
It felt like a bolt of lightning going straight through me, lighting me up. I couldn’t help beaming, letting the excitement glow from my smile knowing I was about to ride in the national finals.
“Luck’s going to be my lady this time,” I told Tessa, the song immediately playing in my head before coming to a screeching halt like a broken record. Sage was frowning, her red stained lips turned down in a perfect pout. My brows pinched and I leaned over the bar. “Baby, you’re not happy for us?”
“Can you quit it with this ‘baby’ shit?” she snapped, her eyes narrowing on me.
“Aw, she just doesn’t want me to leave her.” I grinned, covering up the obvious sting of her rejection.
“Ha!” Tessa guffawed before rushing off with her full tray.
“No.” Sage glared. “I feel like I can finally have some peace and quiet when you’re out of town. Just didn’t know you and Kale were invited.”
“Why wouldn’t we be invited? Have you seen my scores?” I asked her, bracing my forearms on the bartop and threading my fingers together.
We both stood there for a moment staring at each other.
I smiled at her like an idiot, letting the tip of my tongue flick out at the corner of my mouth.
Her golden eyes narrowed on the movement.
Her throat bobbed on a swallow and a blush deepened her skin tone.
It only made me grin bigger, knowing exactly where her mind was going, because mine always went there.
I couldn’t look at her and not remember how she felt beneath my hands, how she ground against me, how her lips molded to mine.
I was hot for the dog mom and I was not ashamed to admit it.
Her eyes finally snapped to mine. “I’ve seen you nearly get a horn in the ass.”
“Then are you going to come with us, Sagey Pagey? Look after me so I don’t get hurt?”
“Ugh!” She picked up the towel from the counter to throw it in my face.
I snatched it in mid-air, chuckling. “I love it when I get you riled up. It does something to me.”
“And that right there” — she pointed a finger at me — “is one hundred percent why I will not be going to Vegas with you.”
“But I need my good luck charm,” I whined, folding the towel and putting it back nicely in its place on the counter for her.
“I need to get back to work, Christian. I need you to go back to your table. I’m losing tips with you hovering.”
“Fine.” I shoved off the bar, picking up my beer. “Just know this conversation isn’t over. I made sure to get a room at the casino that’s dog friendly.”
“Christian!” She slammed the glass she was about to use a little too hard against the bar. “I’m not going with you to Vegas and neither is my dog.”
I shrugged, tipping the bottle to my lips. “We’ll see.”
Her eyes flicked to mine and her teeth ran over her bottom lip briefly as if she hesitated. Just for a moment, as if she liked the idea of me making her change her mind.