Page 30 of Found in Wild Sage

But here? Now? Right in front of me and with no one else in sight?

His hair is a little messy, like maybe he ran a hand through it instead of the very orderly way it appears at work. He looks at ease and happy and so… warm. Not like heat, but like I want to curl up on the couch with him and let him wrap me in his arms.

Granted, I always wanted something to that effect, but now?

I’ve always found him attractive, but this is an entirely new element.

“Thanks. Thanks for having me.”

Was that weird to say? Did it sound odd? Or sexual? Does he think I’m saying he’s going to have me like have as in⁠—

“How’s Charlie tonight?”

His words stop my absolute spiral and I mentally slap myself.

Get it together!

“He loves Clementine, so he wasn’t sad to see me go. I guess maybe I should be bothered that he’s so comfortable waving goodbye to me.” I make a face because I am completely normal and not at all awkward tonight.

“Not at all. He knows you’ll always come back to him. You’re his safe place.” He wanders ahead into his kitchen.

“That’s kind.” I hope it’s true. Also, wow, what a lovely thing to say.

I follow, eyes bouncing around the pleasing green walls and white trim instead of focusing on the tidy hairline at his neck and the collar of his shirt. I’ve hardly had a chance to take him in, and I worry if I let myself appreciate him in this casual, personal setting, I’ll be doubly doomed.

He moves into the modest kitchen and gestures across a creamy-colored granite island where there’s a selection of cheeses, crackers, two kinds of grapes, some kind of nut in a tiny ornately painted bowl, along with… ugh.

Honeycomb.

This tips me back into my irrational irritation. “Hey, are you like, super into bees?”

He hands me a white appetizer plate. “Not particularly. Why?”

“I just noticed your yard looks like it’s a pollinator garden. And then you have honeycomb…” I nod my chin toward the beautiful comb still shiny with golden honey.

One side of his mouth slides up into a smile before he shakes his head. “I have a friend who keeps bees. He keeps me in the honey. And another friend of mine from way back is big into sustainable landscaping and gave me some tips on what to plant. But honestly, this place used to be my grandmother’s, and she had most of what he suggested.”

He slices off a piece of what looks like nice, sharp cheddar, then takes a cracker. “I don’t think you have any allergies, but let me know if you do. I should’ve asked.”

“I don’t. Do you?” It’s one of so many things I don’t know anything about.

“No.”

Well, there’s one thing. Now for about ten million more questions, and we’ll maybe be able to convince his family we’re in love. Ha.

A touch of panic shivers up my spine at the thought.

It’s not just convincing them we are, but then somehow tricking my brain into believing I’m not. But that’ll be totally easy as I discover more layers of this beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent man who is nice to bees and made a charcuterie board. Yeah.

“We’ve both got work tomorrow and I know you’ll be eager to get back to Charlie, so let’s get to it. I have two more minutes on the meat. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.” He looks at me like I’ll have anything to say to this.

He made dinner. There’s meat on the grill. He set out an appetizer platter prettier than the ones in cookbooks. He’s standing there in a light gray polo with more bicep showing than I’ve ever seen and I can’t help but feel it’s a little provocative. Like, is he asking for it?

It’s also the shade of shirt I do not wear because I would sweat through it and be rocking pit stains like a freaking lady if I did. Does the man not sweat?

Granted, he didn’t just spend a year nursing a baby and living in the wild hormonal throes of postpartum life. I’m finally back to feeling like my body is mostly my own. God bless the women who hang on past a year, or who end up having Irish twins. Which, come to think of it, I recall Sam mentioning that two of the Ryan siblings are only eleven months apart.

God bless Mary Ryan, again. She’s a literal hero.