Stirred: A Love Story (30 page)

Sage shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m finding my way.”

“Work good? Do you still enjoy making drinks for people?” Hollis asked in that way she had that made every job other than hers seem trivial. Sage thought her sister might even be able to reduce the president of the United States to, “Do you still enjoy making little speeches?” She didn’t mean harm, it was the way she was, always had been. Hollis worked harder than everyone, and that brought with it a sense of entitlement and probably a splash of bitterness.

Sage was beginning to wonder if all the competition, all the pushing to be the best, had had the opposite effect and screwed them all up.

“I do. I love where I’m at and what I’m doing.”

“Good for you. How’s the naughty going? Are you still with Farmer Garrett?”

“No.”

“Oh boy, that was chilly. Let’s talk about it. I could use some time in someone else’s problems.”

“There’s nothing to say. He’s emotionally unavailable.”

“Yeah, I thought all men had that ailment.”

Sage sighed. “I guess they do, but he makes me feel stupid and I don’t do that anymore.”

“Feel stupid?”

“Yes.”

“You know what Mom would say if, God forbid, she were here?”

Sage nodded, prepared for what was coming.

“No one can make you feel foolish without your permission,” Hollis said, imitating their mother perfectly and touching Sage on the nose.

“Yeah, well, I’m no longer giving him permission. I’m fine. It didn’t work out. I’m over it. It’s so nice to be here. Are you hungry yet? Should we eat, or stand here and get drunk?” Sage pulled her sweater closed as the night air turned chilly.

“I bet the sex was amazing, huh? I mean I was clearly in a state of despair, but when that man walked in, all my mind said was, ‘look at that body,’ you know?”

Sage finished off her glass of wine and enjoyed the warmth it brought to her cheeks.

“So, was it?”

“Was what? I need to eat something.” She turned to walk back.

Hollis pushed off and caught up with her. “It was. I didn’t even need to ask. You can tell everything you need to know by the way a man walks.”

“Is that so?” Sage kept moving.

“Oh, yeah. You know how you’ll see those hot guys and their bodies look perfect?”

Sage didn’t answer, knowing it was hypothetical and her sister would keep right on talking.

“Well, watch them walk. Some of them look like they have a spring shoved up their ass. I don’t know if it’s that their muscles are so tight they can’t move, but hot bod is not necessarily a guaranteed orgasm, you know?”

Sage wondered if Hollis had started drinking earlier than she had as they rounded the corner to the cabin. Sage breezed by a man walking in the opposite direction along the small path, but Hollis swung too wide around the corner and smacked right into him.

“Whoa, sorry,” he said, steadying Hollis, who was looking at his feet and then whipped her head up in preparation for her usual, “take two steps back asshole” look, but when her eyes met his,
she
was the one stepping back in shock and then after a beat, she laughed.

“Oh now, isn’t this perfect?” She looked at Sage with her arms spread wide, empty glass in one, empty bottle in the other.

The guy, who was tall with brown hair and big eyes, grinned, and Sage wondered if Hollis was sober enough to see the heat or that dimple.

“So weird running into you, Hollis,” he said in a low, smooth voice that hinted at his own brand of sarcasm.

“Literally,” Hollis said, moving past him.

“I see you finally made it back.”

Hollis shook her head and turned toward the cabin.

“Better late than never, isn’t that what they say?” he asked.

Hollis held up her empty glass and kept walking toward Sage. Mr. Big Blue Eyes stood there, arms crossed, looking completely unfazed.

“Like, twelve years late, right?” he kept poking.

Hollis swung around, looking like she’d almost tip right over, but recovering. “Why are you here, Matt? Did the devil call and tell you I was circling the seventh circle of hell and you wanted to gloat?”

He laughed, and Sage saw her sister’s entire face go soft in a way she’d never witnessed in all their years together. She couldn’t blame her—it was the rolling laugh of a man with the upper hand.

“No, my world stopped revolving around you a long time ago, Holls.”

Ignoring him, she walked away.

“I live here,” he said. “Well, sort of.”

Shy of the cabin door, Hollis spun around again. “What?”

Their eyes held and Sage could feel the air swell between them. Blue Eyes took a few steps closer but appeared to lose his confidence, dropping his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to leave.

Sage finally closed her mouth, which had fallen open during the scene, and turned to her sister. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

“No,” she said and pushed through the gate in front of their cabin.

“Who was that?” Sage closed the distance between them.

“Matt Locke. Junior year. We’ve known him since the first summer we came here. How the hell do you not remember him?”

“Oh God. That was him? Huh, he’s. . . grown up. And correction, you’ve known him.”

Hollis snickered. Taking Sage’s wineglass too, she put everything in the small kitchen sink.

“You ready to eat?” Hollis asked, pulling on a sweatshirt.

“We’re not going to talk about this?” Sage put on socks and shoes in lieu of her flip-flops as her sister stood by the door.

“Do you want to tell me what happened with definitely hot-in-bed farmer?”

“No.”

“Then no, I have nothing to say about Matt.”

“He has great eyes,” Sage said.

Hollis was looking at her nails as if they needed a manicure.

“Fine. Can we talk about why you left San Francisco?”

“No.” She looked up.

Sage shrugged. “Well, at any rate, there’ll be bread and more wine.”

“Yes there will, my dear sister, yes there will.”

Hollis shut off the cabin lights and they walked through the crisp coastal air holding hands, two women united in a lifetime of memories and pain they were so sick of trying to figure out.

Chapter Thirty-Two

G
arrett managed to stay on task and on schedule through Friday, but by Saturday night, he was shit-faced. Sitting at her bar because he needed to be near her, he thought about how many times he’d walked past her and never knew that she loved him. What he wouldn’t give to go back to each and every one of those times he’d barely noticed her so he could pull her into him and hold her beautiful face. This was going to kill him, he thought, throwing back another shot of whiskey. His family was one thing; the general fucking disorder of his life was enough to warrant drinking, but the pain of living without her never went away. He’d tried everything to get back to where he was before she touched him, loved him. Nothing worked, so he thought he’d try drinking. The fact that he rarely had more than a couple of beers would explain why he was now glaring at Sebastian, the so-not-Sage bartender for the night.

“I need you to make a drink for me,” Garrett said, barely realizing his lips were moving.

“I’ll do my best, but don’t you think you’ve had enough, man?”

Garrett shook his head. “One more. This one should finish me off. Make me a drink called The Rye.”

Sebastian looked confused. “You mean a shot of rye, straight up?”

“No, it’s a drink. Named after our family. I want that drink.”

“I’m. . . not familiar. Do you know what’s in it?”

Garrett pressed his hands to his head, remembering why he didn’t drink like this. “I have no idea what goes into it. It’s rye whiskey and some other stuff, but it’s the best damn drink I’ve ever had. Can you make that?”

Garrett didn’t wait for him to answer because he knew, even in his drunken haze, the answer would be no. He walked into the bathroom and rested his hands on the cool concrete of the counter. No one knew how to make it; no one knew what went into something so perfect except her. She held the key to everything, including that damn drink, and he’d lost her. He had a key box in his office. It hung on the wall, and everything was labeled. He knew every damn key in the place and what it unlocked. It figured she’d be outside that box. Make him want for something he didn’t already have. Shit, his head was spinning.

Sage had only been home long enough to shower and make some soup when her phone rang with a call from The Yard. It was Sebastian.

“Yeah, Logan’s brother is down here and he’s asking me to make some drink called The Rye. He said you would know and he’s pretty gone, so I thought I’d call you and make the guy happy.”

After Sage found her breath, she told him how to make her drink, clarifying he needed to serve it chilled, but not over ice. She hung up and a few minutes later her phone vibrated with a text.

If yoor home why arent you here?

She stared at her phone, at the letters of his name. It had been a while since they had popped up on her screen. She had not heard from Garrett since he walked out of the wine cellar. It had been a little over a week, not that she was counting. Prepared to leave the text unanswered, Sage plugged her phone in right as another text came through.

This is garrett in case you forgot. Thanks for tellin this guy my dink.

Sage found herself smiling. She’d never seen Garrett drunk, and it was as if everything had come full circle. Hopefully, he wasn’t in the ladies’ room, but he was drunk and texting her. She texted back.

You’re welcome.

Less than a minute later, he replied.

I know youre home. But I’ve had too much to drnk. Could you come get me.

She felt her heart leap. It was stupid, but her heart had never been all that smart. Apparently, she wasn’t either because she texted back.

Sure. Be there in 15.

Telling herself not to think, she grabbed her wallet and keys.

By the time she made it to The Yard, things had started to wind down. She waved to Summer and went to the pizza counter first. Travis was working.

“Thank God you’re here. Put the bastard out of his misery, will you?” he asked, flipping mushrooms in a small frying pan.

She learned that Garrett had been at the bar since a little after five. Sebastian was trying to be helpful, but if Garrett told him one more time he was nothing like Sage, he might lose his mind. Sage laughed at Travis’s animated story, took in a cleansing breath, and rounded the hostess station into the bar.

Her pulse still jumped. That was probably never going away. He was the only one at the bar, his head resting on his hands. She caught Sebastian’s eye and mouthed that she was sorry as she put her hand on Garrett’s shoulder. The charge of touching him was another thing that wasn’t going away anytime soon. He closed his eyes and leaned his head over to her hand.

“Let’s go.”

Garrett put his hand on hers and when he looked at her, she almost lost her breath. His eyes were bloodshot and he had at a minimum two days of stubble. If she had been Kenna, she would have told him he looked like crap.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you called someone.”

“I didn’t call someone. I called you, and that’s not what I’m sorry about.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m not sorry or you know I called you?”

“Both.”

“Why are you answering in one or two words?”

“I’m not. Let’s get going.”

Garrett stood at her urging and put his arm across her shoulders. Sage felt the weight of his body and found herself drowning in the familiar warmth. Garrett took a deep breath after he waved to Summer, and they stepped out into the warm spring night. Sage clicked open her car and went around to the passenger door.

Garrett let out a laugh Sage had never heard. It vibrated from his chest, and she thanked the alcohol for allowing him such a carefree moment. “I can get into the car myself. Not sure I’ve ever had a woman open the door for me.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat. She watched Garrett struggle with and finally manage to fasten his seatbelt.

Resting his head back, he closed his eyes.

Sage found herself staring. She should start the car, drive him home, but her heart wanted a moment.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I messed everything up. That’s what I meant when I said I was sorry.” He turned to face her in the darkness of her car. “Tell me how to fix this.”

Sage was starting to forget what had actually been wrong. Her heart had a way of screwing with her mind when it came to Garrett. She started the car.