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Eighteen
Sage
“Letme show you my moves. You’re going to dig them,” Carl whispers in my ear. Instead of giving me chills, it gives me the creeps. Still, I down my fifth margarita—at two dollars, who can pass them up?—and follow him to the floor.
Coming here was a mistake. I knew it from the moment I agreed to let Carl Jacobson, the man behind me in line for coffee yesterday, take me to the Marooned Pirate Summer Bash. Still, he’s a business owner himself, confident, and looking for fun. Even though my gut told me to stay home and focus on work, my heart told me to get back out there and let Carl push this crazy Cash Creed business out of my mind.
Because since Sunday, since the breathless moment at the shelter, I can’t get the damn Texan off my mind. I’m making pancakes, thinking about the feel of his hands on my body. I’m sitting with Monticello, imagining him in those tight jeans, thinking about how sweet he is with all of the dogs at the shelter. I’m hearing his laugh, thinking about his witty comebacks, and wishing he was here looking at me like he does. I’m thinking about all of the things we have in common, and all the things I don’t yet know about him but want to.
Shit, I’m toast.
So maybe that’s why I said yes to the lanky, tall business exec yesterday—and to the multiple margaritas. Maybe that’s why I’ve been able to ignore the fact that Carl pronounces way too many words wrong and spits when he talks. I’ve ignored the fact that he laughs way too loudly at his own cheesy puns—there are a lot of them, to be clear—and how he insists that he could help me make Evermore even more profitable.
Gag me.
But five margaritas in, and I’m being drug to the dance floor, knowing this date is going nowhere… even more than normal. As in, it’s not even heading toward a one-night stand. I should just politely leave, head home to my sofa and the cats, and mourn the status of my sad, lone heart. Still, I know deep down there’s a reason I haven’t just yet. And, as Carl gyrates his hips in a weirdly unsatisfying way, I glance to my right and see the exact reason out of my peripheral.
Cash Creed. He’s here.
The flutter in my chest is undeniable. The flame in my heart is unquenchable. He’s here, and suddenly Carl melts away. I ignore his pelvic thrusts that are way too weird and close for comfort, my eyes landing on the man in the sexy suit jacket and tight jeans who is strutting my way.
Dammit, I’m a goner… but studying him as he comes closer, I tell myself it could be worse. So much worse. And I tell myself that maybe, just maybe, Sage Everling is ready to take the risk.
* * *
“Hey, there,”he says when he gets close to me.
“Excuse me,” I say to Carl, who seemingly doesn’t care that I’m gone, feeling way too into his dancing groove to stop. He keeps up the wonky moves even when I’ve stepped several feet away from him, close enough to Cash to smell his cologne.
“Hey,” I reply back, wondering where the confident Cash and Sage have gone. We’re both standing here, dancing around our words cautiously like two awkward teenagers.
“Look,” I say right when he says “Listen.”
“Go ahead,” I murmur.
“No, you go ahead,” he replies.
For two people who like to take the lead, we’re failing miserably.
Cash finally takes the lead, jumping into his statement. “Okay, fuck it. Here goes nothing. I like you. A lot. And I know we both have our rules and our stipulations, and I respect that. I do. But dammit, I am sick of trying to get you out of my head and trying to find someone to replace this burning sensation in my chest when I see you. I don’t know if this could work with us. I know it probably won’t. But I just want to… I need to get to know you, to see what we could be.”
I open my mouth to respond—with what, I don’t have time to figure out—because as my mouth opens, Cash steps forward, bridging the gap between us. With a pumping song blasting on the dance floor and sweaty people all around us, Cash grabs my face and presses his lips into mine. Quickly, the kiss turns hungry, and he claims my mouth with his, our tongues swirling in a starving rhythm of need, lust, passion, and everything else the heart speaks to.
When we finally pull back, I’m in a daze, staring into the dark eyes of the man who has torn down walls I thought were permanently cemented in place.
“Do you want to get out of here, go somewhere?” he asks, his voice paradoxically strong and breathy.
I raise an eyebrow. “Like… do you mean….” I ask, wondering if we’re floating back into one-night or two-night stand territory.
He blinks for a few seconds. “No, I actually think I mean let’s go somewhere to talk, to spend time together. You know, in a conventional, dating sort of sense. Wow, I really do think I mean that,” he says, as if surprised by his own confession.
“Sounds great,” I say. Cash grabs my hand but before we can leave the dance floor, there’s a tapping on my shoulder. I know who it is before I even turn around. Shit. Carl. I forgot all about him.
“So, does this mean you’re not coming back to my place?” he asks, a sad look on his face.
I choose kindness. “I’m so sorry. Something’s come up. Thank you for a lovely time,” I lie. Carl raises an eyebrow, the lanky businessman now standing and staring at us both.
“Well, you know what, it’s fine. But before you go….”
