13. Sage
sage
Iwas working on autopilot tonight, my mind drifting back to Clayton’s letter. Each cocktail I mixed and beer I poured was done while replaying my conversation with Chuck from yesterday.
Jude told me Chuck was out with the herd when I showed up at the farm looking for him, so I saddled up Zenith and rode out to find him on the nearby rented grazing land.
When I finally found him, he and Reed were holding down a young heifer while they gave her antibiotics and squirted some sort of powder into her eyes.
I dismounted, tying my horse to the fencepost, and walked out to them. When Chuck looked up, I’d never seen him look so surprised. But something must have dawned on him, because he quickly corrected his expression, brushed off his jeans, and told Reed to give him a minute.
“What’s going on, Sage?” he asked, his left brow raised inquisitively.
I swallowed, anxious to give him the letter and not sure how I was going to explain this without sharing more than I was ready to. “I have something for you. Well actually, Hazel told me to give it to you.”
His brows furrowed beneath his Stetson as I handed him the letter. I waited patiently in silence while he read it and glanced at the photo, until he pocketed it and looked up.
“Thank you for bringing this to me,” he said, simply. Although he didn’t seem surprised by the contents, I could see the deep concern etched in his face.
I nodded. “I need you to know that he’s not a good guy.”
“Oh? You know this individual?”
I nodded again, inhaling through my nose, trying to steady my racing heart. “He’s my ex. I recognized the name and the return address and knew I needed to talk to Hazel. That’s why you saw me yesterday.”
Chuck heaved a deep sigh. “It’s some bullshit Junior’s spouting.
Years ago, the Matheus family had an agreement with my father to continue living on and working the land when we bought it.
Jesse, and now Junior, think they have a claim to it and can negotiate such things, but they’re mistaken. They have no right to the land.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
Chuck studied me for a moment. I could tell he had questions, just like I did, but we both respected privacy enough not to ask. Finally he said, “Thank you for giving this to me.”
I headed back to Zenith knowing I needed to get ready for work. Chuck was a capable man and I knew he’d be able to handle whatever this was with Junior, but I also knew Clayton and that scared the hell out of me. He was capable of anything if it meant getting what he wanted.
That same bolt of fear I felt whenever I wondered what Clayton’s next move would be had me jerking my eyes to the door of the bar whenever someone walked in.
I didn't think it was totally irrational.
That letter was postmarked weeks ago. He would have grown impatient by now and decided to come handle business on his own.
My shift was almost over and I was ready to call it a night.
I was basically sleepwalking, giving everyone a practiced smile when I handed them their drinks.
Fortunately, with it being a weeknight, it was slow.
There were only a few stragglers at one thirty in the morning when we announced last call.
Stacking glasses on the dishwashing rack, I headed to the back.
I contemplated texting Christian to check on Arlo, when really I just wanted to talk to him.
Texting back and forth with Christian was comfortable and fun.
It had been a long time since I flirted with someone and I was proud of myself that I was still in the game.
I was leaving the kitchen when I heard Tessa say, “Sage? Yeah, she’s working tonight.”
I stepped out from the back.
“Oh, here she is,” Tessa said, returning to her work.
I glanced up to see who she was talking to and froze.
I wanted to call Tessa back, but she was already walking across the bar to clear tables.
His dark eyes found mine before shamelessly tracing every curve of my body, clammy heat following in its wake.
His gaze returned to mine and I gulped. His lips tipped into a soft smile on his smooth-shaven face beneath his black Stetson.
It was a smile that drew people to him — just like it had me — and got people to do his bidding.
That familiar mouth could be so charismatic, deliver pleasure, and then lacerate you with abuse that could crush your soul.
But I knew better now. It was a Venus flytrap that lured in its prey.
“Hey, doll,” he crooned. It was the same deep and seductive voice I remembered.
I wanted to curse him out, to run, to do something, but old habits die hard.
I was paralyzed by fear. I couldn’t will myself to move.
I couldn’t will myself to speak. I felt trapped, snared in his web, a phantom grasp around my throat.
That old need to fawn at his feet — to protect myself, to get him to stop wailing his verbal punches and threats of harm — returned.
“Surprised to see me?” His smile only seemed to grow at my reaction.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt physically ill as I forced my body to move. To turn away from him and resume my closing tasks as if he wasn’t actually here.
“Not going to say hi to me?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
I didn’t look up or respond, continuing to pack up the lime slices to put in the fridge.
I didn’t so much as see him as felt his presence move, following me down the bar.
His expensive cologne was like a cloud and turned my stomach.
It made me wish the bar was packed, instead of just the few that remained.
But no one seemed to notice him or care who he was, a wolf in a bespoke sheep suit and one-thousand-dollar caiman boots.
The classic country music still played over the speakers and the crack of billiard balls from the two gentlemen who were finishing their game did not smother the sound of his palm hitting the top of the bar in front of me.
I flinched as if he’d hit me.
“Not going to look at me either?” He’d lowered his voice so only I could hear his rising anger.
When I still refused to look at him, thoughtlessly continuing to put things away, a low growl emanated from his throat. “Still the coldhearted bitch I remember.”
Tessa returned with her bin full of empty glasses and Clayton turned to her. “Bulleit bourbon on the rocks,” he ordered.
“We already had last call,” she said and I could have kissed her.
Out of my periphery I saw Clayton pass a hundred-dollar bill across the bar. “Bulleit bourbon on the rocks,” he repeated.
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat.
“Yes, sir,” Tessa agreed, setting down her full bin to pour him his top shelf liquor.
He didn’t say another word to me, only watched me and the bar with his dark brown gaze over the rim of his highball glass. I knew what he was doing. Taking account of his potential threats. Throwing me off kilter. Weighing up his options before he decided to strike like the viper he was.
My chest tightened, my muscles rigid, while I attempted to ignore him as I worked. It was only once he laid down another hundred, his expensive cowboy boots clicking across the floor, the cool outdoor air filtering in as he left, that I finally released a breath.
“Who was that?” Tessa asked as I finished up, the last of our patrons leaving.
I didn’t meet her eyes. “No one.”