9. Sage
sage
“Morning,” Christian greeted, his eyes immediately going to mine as he walked into the kitchen. He smirked and I could feel my face heat thinking about what we did last night. Was that a mistake? I was already starting to regret it … maybe.
I stood sipping coffee with Agatha while she flipped pancakes, completely unaware of how we were looking at each other — our secret heavy between us. My whole body was flushed and my pussy clenched, remembering how it felt as I thrust and ground against my dildo while he talked me through it.
When I’d gotten up, Christian and Arlo were gone, having headed out with Bill to ride the farm and check the storm damage. Agatha was making enough pancakes and bacon to feed a small army even though it was just us, claiming she never did learn to cook less after her kids moved out.
Arlo came in, completely ignoring me and going right to his food and water bowls.
“There’s a fresh pot,” Agatha said, gesturing to the coffee maker on the counter where I was leaning.
I stepped away to give him room to pour a cup.
Christian didn’t touch me, but I could feel the heat coming off him like a caress.
My skin prickled just being this close to him.
I watched him intently, my eyes drifting to his hands, veined and thick from gripping for dear life on bucking bulls, as he poured and stirred in the milk.
I couldn’t help my gaze drifting to his ass, the Wranglers hugging him just right.
“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he teased, making me startle and my skin flush.
He was grinning above the rim of his coffee mug, his eyebrows wagging.
I glared at him. “You better not make this a thing,” I whispered, hoping his mom didn’t overhear us.
He leaned in, his lips nearly brushing the shell of my ear. “In my perspective, rules are meant to be broken.”
Goose bumps skittered up my spine and I pushed him away, my hand wrapping around his thick bicep and scalding my palm. Yep, this was a big mistake.
“Pancakes are ready,” Agatha announced. “Grab yourself a plate. Butter and syrup are already on the table. Is your dad coming?”
“He was just finishing up feeding the dogs and horses. Said he’d be right in.” Christian started loading a plate with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. “Here.” He handed the plate to me.
“Oh, I can fix my own.”
“Just take it, Sage,” he said with a slight edge of exasperation in his tone.
I sighed, relenting, and took the plate to sit at the dining room table. Christian fixed his own plate and plopped down in the seat across from me.
I did my best to ignore him, buttering my pancakes and picking up the warmed syrup — because only moms warm it up — drizzling it over the top.
I don’t know why I suddenly felt self-conscious eating in front of him, but it was probably the way his attention kept going to my mouth with each bite.
The fluffy, buttery pancake, drenched with maple syrup coated my tongue and Christian’s eyes were intent on me as I chewed.
Suffocating heat made me regret the sweater I was currently wearing as Christian set down the syrup, a drop running down the spout and onto his forefinger.
Now my attention was being drawn to his mouth as he brought his hand to it, sucking the syrup off his finger.
A slow grin spread across his lips, immediately making my eyes dart up to his where they were beaming with mischief.
I glared at him, giving him a swift kick to the shin under the table. He winced slightly, but it didn’t dissolve his smile.
“You’re making this into a thing,” I gritted out between my teeth.
His brows waggled while he brought his fork to his mouth and smiled around his bite of pancake.
Arlo tagged along as I headed toward the stables.
It had been a while since I visited my favorite bay gelding.
Zenith was a retired Thoroughbred who now spent most of his days grazing in the pasture, but he still enjoyed a good run through the fields and along the trails.
He was smart, even-tempered, and sweet, and didn’t mind Arlo following at his side.
Just as I was about to cross the gravel strip of road before reaching the stables, the crunch of wheels and the rumble of a truck engine sounded from the direction of the cabin where the Larsens were staying.
Shit. I wasn’t quite ready to explain why I was here.
I jogged across, Arlo picking up speed when he saw I was running.
I hustled toward the stable, pushing open the heavy rolling door. A hand snaked out and I let out a shriek, my head spinning as I was brought into the dim tack room, my back colliding with the wooden wall.
“Christian.” I gasped, my eyes connecting with his bright green ones, his hands bracing my arms.
“Sorry to startle you. I just didn’t think you’d want Jude and Romy to know you were here yet.”
He was so close I could feel the warm brush of his breath across my face, a hint of mint tickling my nose.
“I don’t,” I confirmed. “I moved my Jeep to the back of the house.”
The truck roared past the stables and I released the breath I’d been holding, my body shuddering with the exhale.
“I’m guessing you don’t want your brother to know either?” His brows arched.
Queasy heat washed over me. The last person I wanted to talk to about this was my brother. “Please tell me you haven’t said anything to him.”
He shook his head. “Not unless you want me to. But I have a feeling whatever it is, you need to be the one to tell him.”
I gave a slight nod, agreeing even though it made me want to vomit. I’d avoided telling my brother the truth for years now because I was so afraid of his potential disappointment and anger, not to mention I worried he’d seek revenge and I’d lose my family for good.
“Why?” His voice lowered to a whisper, dropping a whole octave that I could feel the rumble through my chest. His brow pinched, the corner of his lips turned down. “Why are you here, Sage? How do you know my parents so well?”
I averted my gaze, heat flushing my face.
Arlo nosed my hand where it hung at my side, as if to say, “Go ahead, tell him.” Arlo tipped his head up to look at me, panting with a goofy smile on his face while his tail wagged.
Either he was urging me to trust Christian the way he did, or he was impatient to go on our ride.
I blew out a breath, hoping it would steady me.
I wasn’t quite ready to open up and put it all out there, but I suppose this was the type of trust building my therapist was talking about.
I needed to practice trusting again, trusting someone with my secrets, my past, and my heartaches.
Even though Christian got on my nerves, he felt safe to me.
Maybe it was because I knew he was obsessed with me and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his chances.
Maybe it was because I found some comfort in him that I wasn’t willing to analyze quite yet.
“Your parents …” I inhaled deeply, before releasing it.
Letting the smell of the hay and horses center me.
Christian stepped closer as if straining to listen, his boots bumping mine.
I shifted, pressing my back harder against the wall, feeling the firmness and strength of the boards.
Christian must have sensed my anxiety, taking my movement as a need to put distance between us, because he dropped his hands from my arms. My skin beneath my jacket and sweater felt cool and loose where he’d just held me, as if the loss of his grip meant the loss of him keeping me together.
I never felt like I needed anyone to hold me together until someone was suddenly there to do it.
I crossed my arms, needing to ground myself in the feeling of my own flesh and bone.
Christian waited patiently, his face open and listening, sensing my struggle, but he didn’t touch me again, only gave me his full attention.
“Your parents,” I began again, “helped me in a time of need when I was a complete stranger to them.”
He let my words hang between us, seeing if I elaborated before he asked, “When?”
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “When I first came to Willows, four years ago.”
His eyes grew wide at that. “Four years ago?”
“I know you must be confused—”
“It couldn’t have been four years ago. I would’ve remembered that. It was three years ago when your brother rented the spare room in my apartment … when you showed up at the rodeo …”
I looked down at Arlo who’d decided to sit on my left boot as if to comfort me or protect me. I leaned down to give his head a scratch letting him know I was okay.
“Four years ago. I stayed on the farm until I was ready to see my brother,” I finally said.
“You didn’t want him to know you were here?”
My gaze caught his again, letting my eyes penetrate his so he knew how serious I was in the next words I spoke. “I didn’t want anyone to know I was here.”
I hoped the weight of those words communicated the unspoken truth…at least for now.
He gave a slow nod, taking another step back. “What do you need from me?”
“I—” Honestly, I didn't know what I needed. No one had ever asked me what I needed. I just knew what I needed right this moment. “I need you to keep your word and I need to go for a ride.”
Christian gave another nod, this time firmer, his lips pressed together as if to keep himself from saying more.
I knew he was keeping himself from asking further questions and it must be killing him not to.
He was a goofball most of the time and he knew how to press my buttons, but I was thankful he also knew when to take things seriously.
Without another word, he grabbed Zenith’s saddle and bridle.
My brows rose. “How did you know I ride Zenith?”
His lips tipped then, the usual light returning to his gaze as it flicked to me. “I may have played a hundred questions with Dad while we were out this morning.”
Whatever he saw on my face he amended as he walked by, “Don’t worry. The man was surprisingly tight lipped, but I did manage to get the name of your favorite horse. Makes sense, Arlo likes him.”
I stood there frozen, my mouth hanging open while my eyes scanned his face for some ulterior motive, but the way his biceps flexed under the weight of the tack as he took control of the situation only made me want to follow him.
“Come on.” My brain came back online at his command. “I already have my horse saddled. We’ll have to take the south field, the others are a muddy mess today.”