24. Sage
sage
“Oh, thank God you’re here!” Tessa greeted me as she rushed past with a tray full of drinks when I entered The Rooster.
It was my night off, but Marty had called asking if I could take another shift. With the holidays, there were more tourists than usual. I wasn’t looking forward to it, not when Clayton’s been sitting at the bar almost every night watching me.
“Happy to help,” I told her as I headed to the back to hang up my coat and purse.
Sure enough Clayton was sitting at the bar in his shearling sheepskin coat, his fancy black cowboy hat pulled low so he could watch me in the shadow of his brim while he sipped his bourbon.
But this time, I nearly tripped over my feet, because Chuck Larsen was sitting at the bar beside him, a beer in hand, talking in low tones.
“What the fuck?” I cursed under my breath.
I hurried to the back, saying hi to the cooks and Marty, while I entered the office to hang up my things and pull on my apron.
Grabbing my phone, I went to my text thread with Christian. I still hadn’t had the heart to change his contact in my phone since we’d been home.
Me
He’s here.
Hubby
I’ll be there in ten. Kale’s watching Arlo.
Me
You won’t believe who he’s with! Chuck Larsen!
Hubby
What the fuck is that about?
I had a feeling I knew exactly what this was about. The letter.
Me
This isn’t good, Christian.
Hubby
Getting in the truck now.
I pocketed my phone, heading out to the bar where Tessa was running herself ragged filling orders. I signed in for my shift while straining my ears to hear what they were talking about.
“… three-ninety a pound today, but who knows what it will become in spring, especially with plants shutting down and the nation’s herd at an all-time low. I heard you lost a few heads over the summer …” Clayton was saying to Chuck.
“I’m not sure your source can be considered reliable.” There was a warning tone to Chuck’s words I hadn’t heard before.
I pulled up the orders in the queue and started making the drinks. Each time my gaze flicked up to them, Clayton’s eyes were on me. My body subconsciously stiffened, my muscles tensed like they were preparing for the next blow.
Chuck swallowed the last of his beer, setting it down with a thump.
“Want another one, Chuck?” I asked, trying not to look at Clayton, though I could feel his stare burning into the side of my face.
“Not this time, darlin’,” he said, taking out his wallet to lay out a few bills.
“You’re not going to recover your losses,” Clayton argued, a threat behind his words. “Not with the state our ranches are in.”
“I’m well aware of the state we’re all in,” Chuck shot back.
“That fire might as well have been a death sentence for your ranch. We ranchers need to stick together and help each other out. I’m here to help.
How else are you going to recover, otherwise?
No one is going to be willing to pay for that land.
With the state things are in, you’ll end up being bought out by some developer or data center. I know you don't want that.”
“We take care of our own here and we’ll manage to get through it. We’ve gotten through tougher times.”
I continued shaking the cosmo I was making, pouring it into a martini glass.
“I know what it means to take care of your people and your land. What I’m offering is a way to get through it before some city folk from California come up claiming eminent domain and building a bunch of cookie cutter houses on your land.
With me, you’ll at least get more than a fair deal and I promise you, I’m not interested in developing the land.
” Clayton took a sip of the amber liquor in his glass.
“I’ve a feeling come spring when prices rise, you’ll be wanting to change your mind. ”
Chuck gritted his teeth, his jaw muscle popping, while the hand resting on the bartop curled into a fist.
I gulped. The last thing I wanted to see was Chuck lose his shit. The man was a force, but stoic and level-headed. I’d never seen him lose control of his emotions. But I had a feeling if it had to do with his ranch or his family, he’d burn the world down to save them.
“Sage,” Clayton said my name. I hated hearing it. When I left four years ago, I hoped I’d never hear his voice again. I reluctantly looked over at him. “Tell this man I keep my promises.”
My breath froze in my chest. Blood pulsed in my ears like a drum.
He promised I wouldn’t get away. That he’d find me, get me back. He promised. He promised next time would be the last.
“Sage?” He was saying my name again. His eyes bore into me, pinning me to the floor like they always did. The hardness and fire in their depths could so easily lash out to claim their pound of flesh when you least expected it.
Like the practiced, obedient girlfriend I’d been all those years ago, I found myself forming the words to agree with him. “He—”
Thankfully, it was then Christian walked in. He looked frantic, his eyes scanning the bar until he found mine. He blew out a breath of relief when we found each other.
And it was like those words I was about to say just floated away into the ether.
A soft smile lit up his face and for a moment I felt my whole body relax, a calm sweep in like the tide. I sighed and for some unexplainable reason my heart skipped a beat, before speeding up as he approached the bar.
I felt safe with him here. Protected.
Drawn to him even. Something had shifted since we’d been back from Vegas.
Turning my back on Clayton and Chuck, I went to him instead.
My safe haven. That’s what he was becoming whether I planned for it or not.
“Sage baby. My usual, please,” he ordered as he sidled up to the bar.
My mouth twitched with a smile, feeling the weight of fear dissipate with the normalcy of Christian’s request. “Thank you,” I mouthed.
He gave me a slight nod beneath his cowboy hat and leaned his forearms against the counter — close enough that if I leaned over it too our lips would line up …
“You look better than sin tonight, star fire,” he said quietly enough for only me to hear.
That skipped beat turned into a hurried thump. I almost forgot what I wore today. I had to look down at myself to remind myself that I was wearing ripped black jeans, boots, and a long-sleeve lace bodysuit. I did look good tonight.
I couldn’t help the smirk that spread over my lips. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t flirt with me,” I scolded despite the thrill that ran through me as I poured him a light beer on tap.
“I can flirt with my wife if I want to.”
Heat washed over me hearing him call me his wife.
“Shhh! Do you want people to hear you?”
He took a drink, his lips tipping over the rim. “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes. Yes, it would.”
I wiped down the bartop in front of him even though it didn’t need it, just to give us another minute together.
“I can’t resist when you blush so prettily.” He winked before turning in the bar stool to face where Chuck and Clayton still sat. “Hey, Chuck!”
Chuck looked up, giving Christian a nod. “Excuse me,” he said to Clayton.
“Think about it,” Clayton added before Chuck got off his stool and walked over to where Christian and I were.
“Everything good?” Christian asked Chuck.
Chuck grimaced. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Christian lifted his glass in solidarity. “Let me know if you need backup.”
Chuck patted him on the shoulder. “It may be a good idea for you to stick around until he leaves.” Chuck glanced at me for the briefest moment acknowledging my need for a buffer with Clayton around. He didn’t know my story, but I think he gathered there was some sordid history there.
“That’s the plan,” Christian confirmed.
He nodded, zipping up his Carhartt coat. “See you two later.”
“Bye, Chuck,” I told him as he headed out to the parking lot.
Christian spun back around on his stool. His brows pinched, his eyes scanning me for some clue.
“What?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious.
“Am I going to need to ask or are you going to fill me in later?”
An ache settled in my chest. I could tell him.
I knew I could trust Christian. He’d already proven he could keep a secret, even if it meant keeping it from my brother.
Maybe if I told him, he’d realize how broken I was and finally let me go.
My frosty facade had never been enough to scare him off, but maybe my wounds would …
That could make it easier for both of us. Save some hurt in the end.
He still hadn’t left. Every movement I made, his eyes trailed me. I could tell Christian was getting restless sitting at the bar, his eyes growing harder whenever they landed on Clayton, silently urging him to leave.
“Sage?” Clayton requested my attention from where I stood pouring cola from the soda spout into a glass of ice and rum.
I glanced up, my stomach already in my throat.
He tapped his glass. “Another one, doll?”
I nodded once before placing the rum and coke on the counter for Tessa to run and went to pour his bourbon on the rocks.
“Is it possible you grew to be even more beautiful?” Clayton asked as I brought him his drink.
As I set his new glass in front of him, his hand whipped out like a rattler’s mouth, wrapping his fingers around my arm and turning it.
My breath caught but I didn’t dare move.
I couldn’t. The effect he had on me hadn’t changed.
I still shrank into this timid version of myself even after years apart, years of therapy and healing.
His thumb rubbed against the lace of my top, pushing it slightly up to reveal the ink on the underside of my wrist. “Decorated, too.”
Even with the drum of my heart in my ears, the boisterous drinkers, and classic country playing through the stereo speakers, I heard the scrape of bar stool legs and a quick shuffle of cowboy boots. Christian was there, casting a shadow over my ex beneath the neon glow of beer signs.
“Get your fucking hand off my wife,” he growled.
My head snapped to Christian. My breath left me in a whoosh.
Clayton released me like I’d burned him, his attention snapping to Christian. “Your wife?”