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“I’d been meaning to stop by a laundromat.”
“She’s having them washed. We’ll get ’em to you.”
“This is my shirt, but I don’t know whose shorts these are.”
“Not mine,” Max says, and I can’t help but chuckle at that vision. “Knowing Stella, she grabbed some things from her closet.”
“That was nice of her.”
“She’s HR for Arrow. And she’s Trevor’s wife.”
“She gave me a lot of information about Santa Barbara. She was at the soccer game, too.”
“Did Rafael’s team win?” Max asks.
“It was a bunch of three-year-olds. If someone kept score, I didn’t see,” I tell him, walking him out to the garage. I leave Sage sorting through the groceries and close the door behind me.
“So, you and Sam’s little sis,” Max says as soon as the door clicks.
I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. Regardless of what happened last night, she’s hardly little. “What of it?”
“Nothing. I like it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, man. I do.” He opens his car door and, before climbing inside, adds, “She’s better than a dog.”
I shoot him the bird, and he chuckles. I stand there, arms crossed, dealing with a mix of pissed off and flummoxed emotions, on guard until he’s out on the street and the garage door has closed.
When I re-enter the house, Sage sits in a chair by the kitchen table, legs crossed. She looks up when I enter.
“Can I call Jimmy?”
“Sure.” Her feet hit the floor. I was right. Her ass cheeks hang out below the hem of those ridiculously short shorts. The curve blending from her thigh to her ass is delectable. Damp, dark waves cascade down her back.
She reaches the hallway and looks over her shoulder. “I didn’t think to thank Max for this.” She holds up the phone. “Can you thank him for me?”
“Are you interested in Max?” She wouldn’t be the first. I don’t believe she is, but after last night…why would she bring him up to me?
“No.”
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to end him.” She cracks up at my joke and spins to go into the room to call her buddy. As unsettling as it is, deep down, I’m not sure I’m joking.
CHAPTER 24
Sage
The phone rings. And rings.
Come on, Jimmy. Pick up.
“Hello?”
“Jimmy!”
“Sage? Holy shit. Hold on.” Silence descends. I strain to hear anything at all. Click. “Where are you? Oh. Never mind. I know you can’t tell me. Are you okay? Are you safe?”
“Yes. Things are crazy. But yes, I’m safe. Or at least physically.” I crawl up on the bed, back to the headboard, butt on the pillows so I can see if the door cracks open.
