Sage
I groaned, not wanting to get up. I pulled the covers up to my chin now realizing the absence of warmth at my back.
“What is it?” I mumbled, half-asleep and still not ready to open my eyes.
“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”
I whined and attempted to pull the blanket over my head now but his hand was there to stop me. “I regret it all,” I grumbled. “Why are you a morning person?” I blinked an eye open.
In my blurry vision, Christian knelt beside the bed in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, his dimples on full display while he held a box that looked suspiciously like it held a ring. I rubbed my eyes before taking another look. His brows rose expectantly with his increasing smile.
“What’s this?”
“Sage Pardy—” he began.
“Christian,” I interrupted, quickly sitting up.
He looked longingly at me. “You should see how beautiful you are in the morning.”
I shook my head, my stomach doing a little flip as his emerald gaze caressed me from my messy bun all the way down to my fuzzy socks now dangling off the side of the mattress. My hands went to my face in my attempt to cover my lack of makeup.
“Don’t,” he said, pulling my hand away and not releasing it. “You’re a bull rider’s wet dream.”
I bit back a laugh so as not to encourage him. “You’re annoying.”
“I may be irritatingly infatuated with you, makeup or not, but that’s nothing new.
What’s new would be you tolerating me enough to let me help you.
But in all seriousness, if we’re going to do this I need to know you’re on board.
I made the plan without you and now I’m asking you to saddle up with me and let me help you. ”
I eyed the box in his right hand. It was cream colored with an antique brass clasp closing it. “Where did you get that?”
“It was my grandmother’s.”
“Your grandmother’s?” I whisper-yelled. “I can’t take your grandmother’s ring,” I argued, lowering my voice, afraid I’d wake his mom and dad.
He flipped open the clasp and popped it open with his thumb. Inside was a beautiful gold ring with a marquise cut diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller stones that gave it a starburst look.
The early morning light glinted off the ring, casting a rainbow of color across the bed quilt.
My breath caught. “Christian.”
He still had my hand in his and it was the first time I felt how tenderly he held it. His large, rough hand that held on for dear life on a bucking bull was holding mine gently, yet firm as if he was still embracing me in my sleep, a security blanket around me.
“Sage Pardy,” he began again. “I think this ring was made for you, star fire.”
“Star fire?” I asked, a lump forming in my throat. I swallowed the sting. He’d called me that the night before when I asked him about the stars on his ceiling.
“Uh-hmm.” He hummed, a shyness to his smile.
“You try to hide it, but I see that fire inside you, Sage. Right there,” he said, still holding my hand, but lifting it so he could point at my eyes.
“In that starburst around your pupil. I can tell you’re hesitant about all of this, this fake engagement, this ring, me — but I think you need to let that fire out and take the leap with me. ”
He set my hand gently on the bed to take the ring out of the box. Setting it down, he started to slide the ring on my finger.
“I’ll tell you what—” he said, his focus on making sure the ring went on just right.
”Holy shit, it fits!” It was his turn to whisper-yell before taking a beat to calm his surprise.
“—if at any time you want to end this fake engagement, all you need to do is slip this ring off and hand it back to me.”
“Are you making rules now?”
His eyes danced with mischief as he looked at me, his mouth curving up. “You’re the rule maker, I’m just here to break them.”
I huffed a laugh, shaking my head at him. “Speaking of rules …”
He scoffed. “Can you let a man enjoy this for two seconds and finish his proposal before you make any more rules?” He clutched his chest feigning hurt.
I couldn’t help smiling at him then. “Okay. Finish your proposal.”
“Sage Pardy, will you fake marry me?”
“Yes, Christian Riggs, I’ll fake marry you.”
The smile that reached his eyes made that lump in my throat grow even more. I swallowed, but it wouldn’t dislodge.
“It’s customary to kiss after accepting a proposal.” The left side of his mouth hitched in a smirk, deepening the dimple there.
That did it. The lump went down easily now. I narrowed my eyes at him and pulled my hand away. “Don’t push your luck, rodeo star.”
“Oh right, your rule. You don’t kiss on the mouth.”
“And that stays in our text thread.”
He didn’t hesitate, lifting my hand again.
Bowing over it like he was about to ask for my favor, he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.
His soft, full lips were so reminiscent of how they felt in his truck last summer.
I had to suppress a shudder when I felt the trace of moisture left on my skin.
And when he finally pulled away, cool air was there to fill the space, sending a tingle up my arm. A quiet yearning tightened my gut.
He peeked up from my hand, his eyes were like the sparkling morning dew glinting in the sunrise as he said, “Rules are meant to be broken, star fire.”
I made Christian promise not to tell anyone else before we spoke to my brother, handing him back the ring until tonight.
Fortunately, with Thanksgiving tomorrow, everyone was going to be gathered at the Riggses’ house for dinner.
I’d much rather share the news once instead of multiple times over.
And if I could get through telling Kale, the rest of my friends would be easy.
I knew there were going to be questions, especially since I’d done everything possible to reject Christian’s advances over the years.
How I was going to convince them was beyond me.
I was going to have to rely on Christian to take the lead.
He didn’t need to convince anyone as much as I would.
“Did he ask you what this was about?” Christian asked as we walked side by side up to the only restaurant in town, Houghton’s, owned by recently promoted chief of police, Chase Houghton.
“He did,” I told him, pulling my jacket closed when a gust of arctic air blew down the street. Snow clouds were already coming in, promising a Thanksgiving snow. “I told him I’d let him know at dinner and he called me bossy.”
“I guess that’s a big sister trait,” Christian commented, his hand going to the small of my back as we ascended the steps up to the old general-store-turned-restaurant building. It still had the same storefront it had back in the early 1900s.
“More like our prerogative,” I corrected.
Inside the restaurant, the walls were decorated with old black and white photos of downtown Willows, rusty horseshoes, and vintage farming equipment.
Kale was already at a square four-top table where he waved us over.
His eyes narrowed on where Christian’s hand still rested, but he stood anyway to greet us and pulled out my chair before we sat, Christian taking a seat across from me.
He steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the table, as his eyes bounced back and forth, assessing us.
“Is this why you were acting fucking weird yesterday?” Kale asked, his brow raised at his friend.
Christian settled his chair, pushing himself in. “How about I order a bottle for the table?”
“You’re ignoring my question, dipshit,” Kale said while Christian waved over a server.
“Could we get a bottle of your best pinot?” Christian asked the young woman.
“We have one from the Willamette Valley,” she offered.
“Perfect.”
“Are you ready to order or do you need a few minutes?” she asked.
I picked up my menu, avoiding Kale’s suspicious gaze. “I think we may need a few minutes,” I told her.
“Of course. Take your time. I’ll be right back with the wine.”
“So …” Christian began, straightening out his silverware. I could see his neck turning red beneath his collar. I don’t think I’d ever seen Christian blush before.
I was starting to sweat, too, shedding my purse and jacket, and resting them on the back of the chair.
Christian cleared his throat.
“You’re still acting fucking weird,” Kale said, his full attention on Christian now.
“So,” he began again. “Sage and I … well …”
This was fucking painful watching him squirm in front of his best friend. I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
“Don’t tell me you two are dating,” Kale said, shooting me a look. “You can’t stand him.”
I set down my menu. “We aren’t dating, Kale, but he’s persistent enough that he may have worn me down.”
“I did?” Christian’s brows shot up and I gave him a pointed look. He was terrible at this. “I mean, yes, I did. And she’s right, we’re not dating.”
Kale’s brows pinched. “Then what’s this about?” His eyes finally landed on my hand, his eyes growing wide. “What the fuck is that?” He pointed to the engagement ring on my left hand.
I held up my hand so he could see the diamond on my ring finger. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping to get your blessing.”
“Let me see that,” he said, holding out his hand. I placed mine in my little brother’s as he examined the ring. “That looks expensive. Who’s the lucky guy?”
A slow smile creeped across my mouth. He still hadn’t caught on and I looked up at Christian who was wearing a sheepish grin. “Christian.”
“What?” He dropped my hand, his head whipping to his friend, eyes wide.
Christian shrugged and gritted his teeth. “I asked her and she said yes.”
Kale’s head whipped back to me, his brows raised. “You said yes to this dork?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Like I said, he wore me down.”
“But you can’t stand him.” He gestured to Christian.
“Hey!” Christian exclaimed just as our server interrupted with the wine and three glasses.
“Would you like me to pour it?” she asked.
“We can do it. Thank you.” I smiled at her. I needed to keep my hands busy, anyway.
“Are you ready to order?”
“Give us another few minutes,” Kale requested, picking up his menu even though he didn’t look at it.
She nodded and walked away.
I took up the bottle of 2019 pinot noir, pouring a glass for Kale and Christian, before filling mine, nearly to the brim.
“It’s true I couldn’t stand him,” I confirmed, taking a sip from my glass.
“Did you catch the past tense there?” Christian butted in.
I rolled my eyes at him. “He still annoys me sometimes, but he’s like a tick. He burrows under your skin and refuses to leave.”
“That’s not very nice,” Christian complained.
I took another fortifying sip of wine before leaning across the table to take his hand. “I mean it in the nicest way possible.”
“At least I didn’t give you Lyme disease,” he joked.
Kale scoffed. “I hope you haven’t given her any other kind of disease.
” He turned his full attention on me, his face growing serious.
A look that reminded me of our grandmother, that made me want to stop and listen, to acquiesce to anything that was about to be said.
“Is this what you want, sis? Would this make you happy?”
His words stopped me short. Was this what I wanted?
Did this make me happy? There have been very few times in my life when I’ve asked myself those questions, answering with an affirmative yes.
I asked myself that when I took the job at The Rooster.
When I moved into my apartment. When I adopted Arlo.
And when I decided I wanted to open a gallery.
A squeeze of my fingers drew me away from my thoughts, making me look back at Christian.
He may get under my skin most of the time, but he was doing this for me — to protect me.
Even if it meant sacrificing his feelings to do it.
Anyone would have to be blind not to see the desire in his eyes, yet he was willing to put it all aside to help me.
He was willing to risk wounding his heart, even though he didn’t know the danger he was stepping in front of.
Could I do this? If he was willing to put it all on the line for me, then I needed to lean all in.
I turned to my brother and nodded. “Yes, this’ll make me happy.”
He picked up the glass of wine. “Then you have my blessing. Bro,” he turned to Christian, “you may be my best friend but if you hurt my sister, I’m choosing the next bull you ride.”
Christian raised his own glass. “Cheers to that!”
I managed a smile, tipping my glass to clink with theirs. It appeared the worst was over. I just needed to tell the rest of the crew. I may actually be able to handle this and not have to do it alone.