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“Could we really be so lucky?” I whisper back.
The look Sage gives me is full of promise. That teasing smile, hinting at so much luck to come. Is it getting hot in here?
A kid in a denim apron comes over to where we’re standing. I shift a little to make it look like I’m interested in cheese. I mean, of course I am, but if I have to choose between Sage and food? Sage wins.
“Finding anything you’re interested in?” the kid asks.
I nod. “Definitely,” I say.
Sage giggles. She’s not going to make this easy, is she?
“How do we tour?” she asks. “We want to know everything there is to know about making cheese in Vermont.”
The kid’s smile is wide. “I can lead you to the barn where you can see the milking process, and I can show you to the cheese-making room. In here, we mostly stick to tasting and purchasing.”
He’s having a hard time taking his eyes off Sage, and I can’t blame him one bit.
“I want to see the animals,” Sage says.
“Great. Follow me, please,” the kid says, and manages to lead us through the shop and around to a large wooden door while watching Sage’s every step.
He gestures through the door and up a wide wooden stairway. “This balcony goes around the main barnyard. On the other side, you can overlook the processing floor. You can come back on a Tuesday to see the caves. When you’ve seen all you want to see here, come on back in and I’ll help you find the perfect cheeses to take home.”
“Thank you,” Sage says as we step through the door.
The kid nods and smiles and waves.
“He’s very good at his job,” Sage whispers to me, still holding onto my hand as we climb the stairs. As if I would let go.
“He’s performing for you,” I say, looking out at the backs of livestock in their very clean pens. “He can’t wait for you to come back.”
“You meanus.”
I shake my head. “That kid would love it if there was nous. He hopes I get lost on the tour so he can have your full attention in the store. He’d be very happy never to see me again.”
“How can you tell?” she asks. Her voice and face are a perfect blend of amused and interested. I think she’s serious.
I stop walking at the top of the stairs.
“He shows all the classic symptoms of having a massive crush on you.” I unfold my fingers one at a time. “Solid eye contact. Uncontrollable grinning. A bit of hair tossing, which is an alternate to arm flexing. Continuous invitation for your return. Slight drool.”
She grins at me. “Those are the classic symptoms? There are only five?”
“Trust me. I’m a doctor. And no, there are way more than five, but I’m not letting go of your hand to count off any more.”
“Does anyone else around here show these symptoms?” she asks.
“You mean besides me?” I ask. If she’s going to make it this easy to confess my own attraction, I’m going with it. Totally up for playing this game.
She tries to keep a straight face, but when she stares at my mouth, we both laugh.
“You don’t appear to be drooling,” she says.
“I’m being treated for that one. Doesn’t mean I’m immune to the condition.”
She takes a finger and runs it over my lower lip.
“Hmm,” she murmurs. “You’re right. No drooling at all. Congratulations on a successful treatment.”
