Stirred: A Love Story (12 page)

Still standing on the sidelines, he scanned the barn—there were a few couples, a family of five, and a group of four women who were a little rowdy. Garrett thought he heard one of them say they were all part of the same book club. The whole thing was pretty cool. Once everyone had one of Sage’s concoctions or a glass of wine from the guy who had kissed Sage—yeah, he’d noticed that—they took their seats. Logan and Travis began doing what they did best—feeding people. The intimate setting of the barn, plus everyone sitting at the same table, passing and sharing, was fun to watch. He was filled with pride for his farm, his barn, and most of all, his family.

The way his brother took something simple and made it special was a true talent, and he was honored they chose his new barn as the place for these events. It was great business for The Yard. A reflection of a lifestyle that was trendy now, he supposed, although he always thought those glossy magazines made things look far too easy.

After a welcome, followed by a description of what was on the menu, everyone began eating. Sage leaned against her bar, looking beyond the barn toward the back field—kale and butter lettuce, Garrett’s mind couldn’t help but note. The lights strung throughout the rafters of the barn brought her face into focus as he took a few steps closer. She wore some wispy top that showed off her neck, or maybe he simply noticed it more now. She always seemed to be in something new, but not exactly new. Most of her clothes looked like they came from a different time. She was a discovery: color, beads, texture, and lace. His mind immediately went to the towel getting caught on the detail of her skirt. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen legs before, and there was barely anything showing, but standing there with her, he thought he might actually swallow his tongue.

He’d noticed Sage before her ride in his truck. She was kind of hard to ignore, but lately everything was heightened to distraction, as if his mind was trying to make sense of her, and his body hummed in wait. Garrett walked over to the bar.

“Are you and wine guy a thing?” He caught her off guard; she was still gazing out into the night.

“Huh?” she asked with a sigh.

“Wine guy, you two seem cozy.”

Her eyes danced around the barn as if she hadn’t even heard the question. “It’s incredible here. I’m sure you already know that, but I’ve been here a couple times now and the air, my God. It’s like I think I’m breathing at home, then when I get here, I realize I wasn’t even close.”

Garrett was stunned by her words—they managed to perfectly describe what it meant to live where he did, do what he did. How could she know that?

“I love everything about this place, the sounds and smells.”

He raised his brow. “The smells, huh? I could probably find some smells that would change your mind.”

Sage’s laugh lit up the space, and he knew he wanted her. Garrett had lived a life that made it clear that
want
and
have
were two very different things with an ocean of work between them, but he didn’t care. Standing there, almost desperate to reach out and touch her face, he was willing to work. Hell, he’d add it to the schedule.

“Do you still know how incredible it is, or does it get old being here all the time? I’ve always wondered that, you know.” She twirled a straw. “Like people who live in Paris, do they get sick of driving by the Eiffel Tower, or is it a marvel every time?”

“I’d imagine they get used to it,” he said, grateful he’d found some words. Was she comparing his squares of dirt to the Eiffel Tower?

Sage let out another breath. “I suppose so. Is it that way for you? When you look out there, what do you see?”

“Work.”

She laughed again.

“No, I get what you’re saying. It is special here and yeah, it’s pretty much always that way for me. I grew up here and the mornings are still incredible. I swear the night sky up here is larger. And I know what you’re saying about breathing—I feel that too.”

Their eyes met and then as if she’d seen something new, Sage looked toward the table.

“How do you think it’s going?” she asked.

“Well, it has that hum The Yard gets on a busy night. I’m taking that as a good sign. The food is fantastic.”

She nodded.

“I’m sure your drinks are great too. I noticed on the menu you made an old-fashioned and a rusty nail? I like the names.”

“Thanks. The names aren’t original to me. Those are both classic drinks, but I put my own spin on them.”

“As expected,” he said, finding himself looking into her eyes again. He’d never noticed her right eye had a spot of brown; it was a small dot, but another detail. She was something. “You didn’t answer me.”

“What was the question?”

“You and the wine guy?”

She looked confused but then remembered. “Oh, um, no. I mean we’ve gone out to dinner, but no.”

“So you have dated? I thought he looked friendly. Not exactly your type, is he?”

Sage laughed. “And you would know that, how?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems unlikely you’d have the hots for me
and
that guy too.”

Her face flushed and she looked around as if the whole barn had heard him. “I thought we agreed to drop the drunk truck thing?”

Garrett laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Sounds a little naughty.”

Sage looked at him, her eyes wide, but remained quiet.

“You’re right, we did agree.”

“You don’t seem to be dropping it. I’ve been to dinner with Jeremy. He’s a nice guy, but there was no click. There, happy? Now stop. And since when do you stand so close to me?”

Garrett said nothing and didn’t move.

“Click?”

“Yeah”—she waved her hand in a gesture he now recognized as frustration—“as in we didn’t click. Like a bike. You know when you ride a ten-speed, or any bike I guess, and at first, you’re pedaling and trying to figure out the gears? Then you hit the right one and. . . click, everything smooths out. Huh”—she smiled—“so weird that I remembered that. There you go, relationships are like riding a bike. I need that click.”

Garrett could not have spoken if someone had paid him.

Who the hell was she?

“Besides, why are you so interested? We’ve established that you were flattered by the. . . drunk truck thing.”

She whispered that last part and it was so cute, he almost gave in to everything coursing through him right there in front of everyone.

“But,” she continued, “I’m not your type, so if I decide to have dinner or anything else with him, it shouldn’t interest you.”

“True. When did I say you weren’t my type?”

“I. . . I’m not sure. It was probably in there somewhere while you were telling me you didn’t think of me that way.”

A guy in a red sweater approached the bar and asked Sage for another drink. She was gracious, did her smooth dance, twisted a lemon peel from one of the lemons off his trees, and handed the guy her creation.

“I thought you didn’t remember what happened that night?” Garrett asked.

She blushed but still managed to look all hot and bothered.

“I. . . recently remembered that part.” She knocked over the straws but caught them before they fell to the ground.

“Is that so?”

Sage nodded, looking everywhere but his face.

“Kenna told you.”

“She may have mentioned it during my morning of humiliation.”

“Shit,” he said under his breath and tried to rub the knot out of his neck. “You came out of nowhere, Sage.”

“I know. Why are we talking about this again? I. . . you were honest and that’s fine. I don’t even think about you, about it, anymore.”

Yeah, she did.
It was all over her face.

Somehow, feeling like an ass for that honesty, he decided the best thing would be to kiss her, but the right thing was to leave until he figured his shit out. As it often happened, Garrett chose right. “Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to work. I need to feed Jack. Have a good night, Sage.”

“You too.” She looked disappointed.

Garret stayed in his house the rest of the night reading over a proposal from the local high school that would allow their FFA students to work after school hours in the fields. It would be interesting to have teenagers around, and it might give him an excuse to be outside the office a little more. That alone was worth it. He sent off a quick e-mail with questions and stood up to get more coffee. His mind was back on work, the details—how, what, and where?

“Things we understand, right buddy?” He tossed Jack a treat. His dog didn’t look all that convinced they were back to normal as he settled beside him on the couch. Scratching Jack’s ear, Garrett’s mind drifted. How could both of those women be in the same body? How could she be high heels and naughty one minute and clumsy farm lover the next? He should leave it alone. He didn’t need more work, but damn if he could turn away lately. It reminded Garrett of the difference between seeing a car at a car show, appreciating it from a distance, and lifting the hood, finding out how it works. The more time he spent with Sage, the more he wanted under that hood. He could hear Kenna’s voice asking him if he was honestly comparing a woman to a car. His answer would be no. Cars were easy and Garrett knew, even from his safe distance on the showroom floor, there was nothing easy about Sage.

Chapter Ten

S
age arrived home a little after one in the morning. They’d all pitched in loading the truck and agreed the evening was a success. Of course, Logan had managed to write down a couple of things on his yellow pad, including that he wanted to add the new drink she’d created at the run-through on the next menu for The Yard. The excitement and pride in her work had kept Sage from falling asleep for another hour last night.

The evening went well, and next month they would do it all again. She loved being on the farm whether she was making drinks or not. Walking to her car last night, she’d looked up at the sky and had seen that Garrett was right: it was bigger. He had not returned for the rest of the night, which was probably a good thing. Sage was finding it more difficult to be around him with all the farm-to-table business. It was one thing for him to visit her in her world, at her bar, but being in his environment added an extra layer to Garrett her heart didn’t need. Standing in that barn, he was real, so real she could have reached out and touched him. Talking with him out there under the stars, there was a moment when he looked like he almost wanted to lean in and kiss her. That was crazy, she thought, pulling into work.

Who knew fresh air could be so dangerous?

“The last chapter was about being bold enough to share fantasies,” she told Kenna as she made more coffee behind the bar. “It seems that’s the final straw to becoming a naughty grape.”

Kenna laughed. “So are you going to start sharing your fantasies now?”

“Yeah, that’s probably not going to happen. There were some handy tips, but I need to accept defeat and archive the book.”

“I can’t even believe I’m hearing the word defeat come out of your mouth. Did you practice any of the chapters on Jeremy? You two were awfully. . . friendly last night.”

Sage shot her a look that said her friend knew damn well she wasn’t wasting naughty on the likes of Jeremy.

“Right, so that’s a no. Does this defeatist attitude have anything to do with Garrett or being up at the farm?”

Sage threw a stack of towels on the bar and began folding. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure my fantasies have nothing to do with being naughty. Spending time up there was. . . I want that, not some made-up crap I read in a book.”

“With him?”

Sage let out a sigh and ached with need. She knew it was pathetic, but her heart was oblivious.

“Did something happen last night? I did notice him over at the bar.”

“No. But I will say I forgot all about the book. I didn’t need it because it was so amazing. I was doing what I love and he was there. It felt for a moment like I had everything I needed.”

“Oh, Sage, then go with that. Be you.”

She shrugged. “Did you notice Garrett left early and didn’t come back out the whole night?”

“I didn’t notice, but are you thinking that’s because you were yourself?”

“I don’t know, but I have been more flirty, not with him, but in general. He’s been around more. It’s strange.”

“That he would respond to you being more flirty?”

“I guess. I don’t know. The reality is confusing enough with him. I’m not sure I’d survive the fantasy.”

As she turned to put the folded towels away, Sage caught a blur of him out of the corner of her eye. Damn it, the man was everywhere.

“What fantasy?” Garrett asked, standing next to his sister.

Makenna promptly stood, smiled at Sage, and walked to the back kitchen. Garrett’s eyes followed his sister and then landed back on Sage. She could feel them, all green fields beautiful, but she didn’t look up. She simply started drying glasses in the hope he would follow Makenna into the back and be gone. He walked around the bar, stood behind her, and said nothing.

Sage shifted, distancing herself from his natural warmth, and put the glasses away. He still remained quiet, standing there with the palpable weight of his eyes, pressing her to say something.

“What?” She finally couldn’t stand it anymore and turned to face him.

He shrugged.

Sage laughed because he was too close, and why not laugh? The whole situation was ridiculous.

“I have work to do, so if you’re going to stand there and stare, that’s going to make things hard for me. Do you want a drink?”

Garrett looked to the clock above the bar and furrowed his brow, the wrinkle so deep that it was still indented even after he’d relaxed his face.

“Right, probably not a good idea since it’s only nine in the morning. Coffee?”

He shook his head.

“Then what do you want?” she asked, impatient now.

“I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. What fantasy?” he repeated in a voice that was pure tension.

“I. . . pfft, it was nothing. We were talking about—”

“Him, you were talking about him. The wine guy from the other night?”