CHAPTER 15

KALE YEAH!

SAGE

By the time Monday rolled around, Sage was back to feeling normal. A few days of rest, sleep, and what felt like hundreds of mugs of tea delivered by a sheepishly smiling David seemed to have cured her. The snuggles with Daisy hadn’t hurt at all either.

When she’d woken up in the middle of the night on Saturday with David’s dog still curled up on her lap, she’d half expected to find the man somewhere in her apartment. But a quick glance at her phone revealed the text he’d left her — of course, with abbreviated words, because apparently being articulate was a lost art. The dog seemed happy enough, and so Sage had scooped Daisy up and taken her into her bedroom, where they both fell back to sleep almost immediately.

If she’d been disappointed that David hadn’t stayed, she blamed it on the fever.

In the morning, she texted David about picking up Daisy. Of course, that meant he came back over armed once again with canned soup, only this time he also brought a carton of chicken bone broth. “I got an organic one,” he’d mumbled as grabbed the pan from where he’d set it to dry the night before. “Seemed like something you’d be into.”

He’d looked so big in her kitchen, his long arm reaching for spices while the other stirred the broth on the stove. His wide body took up space in a way that almost made her feel small. Safe, even.

And he’d just stuck around.

No matter how many times she’d suggested he leave, or mentioned that he probably had better things to do with his time than watch her nap or cough or blow her nose for the millionth time, David stayed.

When he wasn’t actively doing something — making her tea or heating up another pot of broth — he sat in the opposite corner of her couch, one leg folded on the cushion while the other stretched out in front of him, with a book in his hand. He pulled out those fucking delicious glasses when he read, and Sage couldn’t find it in herself to complain about his presence.

She hated the fact that she needed help, but there was something about David that didn’t leave her feeling unsettled in the wake of his kindness. In the short time that she’d known him, she’d seen little glimpses of a man who directed his attention and efforts into caring for others. She’d seen the way he’d insisted on making sure she was home safe on multiple occasions, like the thought of something happening to her under his watch was unbearable. The way he’d practically moved himself into her apartment over the weekend, insisting on doing everything for her.

She’d drawn the line when he’d tried to vacuum the carpets.

Maybe it was because she’d been so sick, but it had been easier than she’d expected to just sink into the warmth of being taken care of. Her roommates used to give her shit, saying that if her car went off the road into the river, Sage was more likely to take up residence with the frogs than call to ask for help.

* * *

After the third night that week of David showing up at her apartment with takeout, Sage put her foot down.

“David,” she said, looking down at the pizza box he’d placed on her counter. Daisy had already made herself comfortable on the large pillow that had unofficially become her dog bed. “If you want to hang out, then at least let me cook.” She held a hand up when David opened his mouth to respond. “I’m better now, and if I eat any more pizza I’m going to get sick all over again.”

David’s shoulders sagged as he rubbed one of his big hands over his face. He still looked weighed down by exhaustion; she could see it in the purple smudged under his eyes and the deepened frown lines around his mouth. “Honestly, Lefty,” he said, his voice rough and matching the lack of energy in the rest of his body. “I’ll probably cry if you cook something right now. I’ve been surviving on frozen dinners and take out, so something homemade sounds like the greatest thing in the whole goddamn world.”

Sage couldn’t help but smile as she looked in the fridge. “How does spaghetti sound?”

David groaned — a low, rumbling sound that sent a rush of heat down her spine. “Sounds incredible.”

It only took a minute to gather the ingredients from the fridge and put a pot of water on to boil. Sage fell easily into the rhythm of moving through her kitchen, smashing the broad side of her knife down on the cloves of garlic to make peeling them easier.

“Can I help?”

Sage glanced up, her fingers continuing to tackle the brittle skin that covered the garlic cloves. “Nope,” she said. “Get something to drink, sit down, and tell me about your day.”

David scowled at her, but rounded the counter to look in the fridge. “You have a bunch of weird stuff in here.”

She snorted a laugh, scraping the now chopped garlic up with her knife and tossing it in with the ground beef that was browning in a skillet. “It’s just sparkling water and kombucha,” she said, moving on to chop the white onion.

“What’s kombucha?”

“Think a tangy, fruity tea.”

“Which one should I try?”

“Probably the blueberry.” She turned around, ready to warn him about the —

“Jesus!” David shouted as bubbling kombucha exploded from the lid of the glass bottle, flooding over his hands and soaking the front of his t-shirt in the pale purple drink. He held the bottle away from his body as he rushed to stand over the sink. “What the hell was that?”

She tried not to laugh.

She really fucking tried.

But David looked at her with a mixture of horror and betrayal, like she’d set him up for this ultimate humiliation. Laughter burst from her chest, loud and without constraint.

“I,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “I was trying to warn you, but you were too fast!”

His face glistened, and his exhaustion enhanced his appeal, deepening his features and making him appear rugged, and, somehow, even more handsome. She wished, with a sharp and almost painful yearning, that he was someone different.

She watched as his tongue swept over his bottom lip, catching a stray droplet of kombucha. His brows arched up, allowing the light to illuminate his dark eyes. “At least it tastes good,” he admitted, his mouth curving into a reluctant smile. “It’s really damn sticky, though.”

Sage jumped into action, wetting a towel and tossing it to him. She looked down at his soaked shirt, grimacing.

“Let me go find you a shirt,” she said as she ran to her room. She looked through her t-shirts, quickly finding the largest one she had.

When she returned to the kitchen, David had obviously tried to mop up the spilled kombucha. “Here.” Sage handed him the green t-shirt.

David held the shirt up against his body. “This won’t fit,” he grumbled, frowning down at himself.

“Trust me. It will.”

David gave her an exasperated look, but, with a sigh, reached back to pull his wet shirt over his head.

Sage’s mouth dropped open.

Fucking fuck .

She knew he was big. She’d seen his back, shoulders, and biceps straining against his clothing. But to see the curve of his shoulders bare? To see the dark hair that swirled across his chest and continued down his broad stomach? The trail that disappeared below the waistband of the sweats that hung below his hips?

Her skin prickled, her cheeks heated, and fuck if she didn’t want to lick him. Everywhere. Why, of all of the things she could do with him, licking came to mind, she had no fucking idea.

He was just so…big. And as a woman who’d spent the majority of her life towering over those around her, the thought of this man doing things to her body with his body made her…

She shuddered, trying to gather herself as he pulled the t-shirt down, tugging it over his torso. She’d been right. It fit him well, even offering a little extra wiggle room.

“What?”

She glanced up, finding him watching her with a guarded expression. There was even a hint of color on his cheeks.

“You’re just…” She waved her hand at his upper body.

David’s eyes dropped down. “It’s rough, I know. I’ve got to be better about what I eat, and —”

“You’re really, really fucking hot,” Sage interrupted, unable to keep her thoughts to herself at the sight of this man — this powerful, attractive man — deluding himself to think that he was anything other than perfect. “When I read novels about hot cowboys they’re always described as being big, hairy men, and I mean, I always imagine them in my head. But you’re it. You’re like a fantasy straight out of a book, and I’m having a very hard time keeping my shit together when you look like that .”

David’s gaze rose up to meet hers and his lips parted, still wet from where he’d licked the kombucha away. “Damnit, Lefty,” he said roughly, shaking his head. “You can’t say things like that.”

“I’ll say whatever I want,” Sage teased, crossing her arms over her chest.

His brow furrowed as he looked down at the shirt again. “Does this seriously say ‘Kale Yeah!’ on it?”

“It was a gift from my old roommate, Mary. Apparently the fact that I eat a lot of kale is one of my most noteworthy personality traits.”

David chuckled. “Can’t say I’m a big fan of kale.”

Sage suddenly became aware of a sharp, acrid smell that accompanied a haze of smoke that hovered in the air around them. “Fuck!”

She ran to the stove, turning off the burner and grabbing the skillet. She tossed the pan into the sink, turning the water on to wash away the charred remains of what was supposed to be their dinner.

“Fuck,” she repeated, slumping back against the counter.

“So, pizza?” she heard David ask from behind her.

Sage shook her head. “After that, I need tots.”

* * *

“Why are these so fucking good?” She moaned around a hot tater tot that was crisped to perfection and topped with melted cheese, green onions, and bits of bacon.

Across the table, David chewed with a wide grin on his face.

The Grove was crowded, but their timing had been perfect, arriving right when a group was vacating one of the picnic tables close to the stage. A band was setting up, unloading a variety of guitars, a drum set, and banjo.

“So you read novels about hot cowboys?”

Her cheeks heated almost instantly. Guess they weren’t going to pretend she hadn’t word-vomited all over her kitchen floor.

She nodded. “Western, small-town romances.”

David stabbed another tot from the heaping platter between them. “What do you like about them?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“In so many stories, it seems like characters just hop on the plot train and get carried along for the ride. Nothing against that, but as someone who’s had a pretty unremarkable life, I don’t find them relatable. But romance novels? The characters almost always have some sort of personal struggle they are working through that drives the book forward. Sometimes it’s confronting their past.” She paused to swallow against an unwanted lump in her throat. “Sometimes it’s gaining the confidence to chase after what they want. Whatever it is, the characters in romance novels feel just a little bit closer to living life like the rest of us.” A smirk curved on her lips. “As for the cowboys? I don’t know, really. There’s something beautiful about men who act all stoic and unaffected, but at the end of the day are brought to their knees by a woman.”

David took a long pull from the Corona he’d ordered. Sage had felt a wave of deja vu as she watched one of his thick fingers push the lime down into the bottle. He set down the beer and locked eyes with her, his thick lashes somehow picking up the golden lights from the strings that hung above them. “That’s a pretty damn convincing argument,” he said, leaning forward to brace his forearms on the table. “Might have to pick up one of those.”

Sage snorted into her jalapeno margarita. “Do you read many books with graphic sex scenes?”

“Uh,” David coughed through a mouthful of food. The ambient hum of conversation that surrounded them seemed to grow louder for a few seconds as he chewed and swallowed. “Can’t say that I do,” he finally replied, scratching his beard.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

What . Sage immediately wished she could take the words back.

David’s thick brows shot up his forehead. He reached a hand up to cover his mouth, but not before Sage saw his amused grin. Dropping his hand, he leaned out across the table. “Graphic sex?” His voice had somehow gotten lower, even more rough than she was used to. “I’ve tried it a few times.”

“Oh my god.” Sage covered her face with her hands, willing her flaming face to cool down.

“If it ain’t the beautiful man and my best friend!”

Sage opened a gap between her fingers, looking right up into Maggie’s grinning face. The woman planted her hands on the edge of the table, glancing between the two of them. “Did he do somethin’ to you, blondie? Do I need to hurt him?”

Sage shook her head, snorting a laugh. “You really are a balls to the wall kind of person, aren’t you?”

“Sure am.” Maggie looked over at David. “So you finally got over your ‘oh no it’s too complicated we work together’ bullshit and asked her out? Nice.” She held her hand up for a high five.

David ignored the offered hand, instead glaring at her, his expression incredulous. “Well, since you asked, Sage and I are friends , eating a meal together as friends, hanging out as friends .”

Wincing, Maggie lowered her hand. “My bad.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Sage. “For the record, I think it’s stupid.”

Sage had no idea what was happening. “What’s stupid?”

“You two not bein’ together out of some misguided sense of morality,” Maggie said, waving her hand between them. “If there was someone who looked at me the way that you guys look at each other, you bet my momma’s gravy I wouldn’t waste a day without them.” Without pausing, she reached into her back pocket, drawing out her phone. Her thumbs tapped for a moment, and then she tossed it down on the table in front of Sage. “Put your number in there and I’ll text you.”

Rather than respond to the rest of what Maggie had said, Sage picked up the phone, entering her name and number before handing it back. She could feel David watching her, but she wasn’t quite ready to look at him.

Not yet.

Maggie flashed her a smile. “Well, you two enjoy your friendly dinner, then. Next drink is on me.”

Sage watched her walk away, struck once again by what a whirlwind Maggie was. She had the kind of magnetic personality that drew people to her, like Brinley and Cori did. Whatever that magical thing was that they all possessed, Sage didn’t have.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” David said, bracing his hands on the table in front of him as he stood up. Sage couldn’t help but stare at his forearms. “Need anything?”

Fucking forearms . She wet her lips. They looked like they were wrapped in rope, the skin there tan and dusted with dark hair. What would it feel like if he —

“Sage?” A big hand waved in front of her face. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she squeaked. “Totally fine.”

David didn’t look like he believed her, but he gave her a small nod before turning and walking away.

Was she watching his butt? Yes.

“Hey.”

Sage jumped in her seat, whirling around to look at whoever had interrupted her very subtle appreciation of David Hughes’ ass.

An objectively good-looking man with a nice smile and a nice enough face lowered himself down onto the bench beside her. His business casual clothing was also…well, nice. It was all nice and he looked nice and Sage had never felt more indifferent about a man in her life.

When she didn’t respond immediately, the man fussed with his short black hair. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No thank you,” Sage said, already shaking her head. “I’m actually here with someone.”

Something in her stomach did a backflip at the admission. Because they weren’t here like that. He was David and she was Sage and they were friends . Friends who shared tots and breakfast and dinner and couches.

“Oh,” the man offered her an apologetic smile. “That’s my bad. I hope you have a good night.”

As he stood up, Sage caught a glimpse of David walking back through the crowd toward their table. She watched his eyes dart over to the stranger, and saw the exact moment his eyebrows snapped together and his lips curved down into a scowl.

Maybe she was imagining it, but she thought he might have sped up as he walked back to her.

“Welcome back from your adventure,” Sage said as David sat down.

The frown hadn’t left his face. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

David let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to keep you from…” His voice trailed off.

Sage cocked her head to one side. “Keep me from…?”

“If you want to hang out with him I under —”

“I wasn’t interested,” Sage interrupted. Her cheeks heated, and she stabbed a tot and shoved it into her mouth.

“Oh.” David watched her, his expression blank.

“Do you date?” Sage winced. They’d officially departed from safe conversation topics to have with your very hot coworker and her question didn’t help them get back on track. Not even a little bit.

David at least seemed like he was taking the question seriously. “I haven’t in a while,” he admitted, his eyes trained down at the decimated tray of loaded tots between them. “My last girlfriend was up in Chicago.” His gaze lifted to hers. “What about you?”

Sage almost choked on the bite she was currently chewing. “Date? Nope. Not my thing.”

“Really?” He looked genuinely confused, if not a bit concerned. “Why not?”

She swallowed against the harsh tightening in her throat. How was she supposed to explain that in high school when everyone else was figuring out how to survive awkward dinners at Vinny’s and making out in the back row of the movie theater, Sage had been lying to her mom about going to sleepovers and waiting by her phone in the off chance that the guy she’d been infatuated with might ask her to rendezvous in an abandoned parking lot?

She couldn’t say that. Instead she shrugged. “Hook-ups work fine for me.”

Sage watched his face carefully, like a part of her expected him to recoil. But instead he just nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t think I could do that,” he admitted, his voice softening. “When I want a woman enough to hook-up, there’s no way in hell I can just walk away.” His eyes shut for a moment, and her attention was pulled to the way his long lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones. “Once I have her, I won’t want to give her up.”

Sage didn’t know how to respond to that, or why his admission made her skin itch and her neck heat. Reaching for her drink, she took a long sip, trying to focus on the burn of the tequila against the back of her tongue.

“Want to dance?”

She blinked. “What?”

David nodded toward the band, who was now playing country covers only about ten feet from their table. How Sage hadn’t noticed the loud, amplified music was beyond her.

“I asked you if you want to dance with me, Lefty.”

Sage glanced over her shoulder at the wooden dance floor, where a few other couples were already two-stepping. Her gaze returned to David, who watched her with a patient, fond smile.

“Fine.” She tried to sound like she was just doing it for him, like she was indulging his need to dance with her. But based on how David watched her as he reached for her hand and pulled them both to standing, he could see right through her.

She let him lead them to an open spot, the music swallowing the air around them as he turned and tugged her toward him. It was such a nonchalant move, but it sent her stumbling forward, forcing her hands up to brace herself against his broad chest.

Before she had a chance to enjoy the feeling of him under her fingertips, he firmly grabbed her right hand, pulling it out and away from their bodies, and, at the same time, she felt his other hand trail down her back before settling at the base of her spine.

With a gentle push of the hand on her back, they were moving.

She couldn’t do much beyond following David’s movements. He moved almost lazily, guiding her with the firm, steady pressure of his hand. She knew the steps well enough — short and short, long — but she’d never danced with someone who took the entire weight of decision making off of her shoulders.

Their bodies were flush, her chest pressed to his and her face at the perfect height that, if she wanted to, she could turn and press her nose into the spot where his neck met the curved muscle of his shoulder.

She could catch a hint of his smell — a combination of that almost beachy scent and a soap that was common enough that she should recognize it. She could see the way his Adam’s apple dipped as they moved and felt his slow, deep breaths against her. He was still in her ridiculous ‘Kale Yeah!’ t-shirt, but it didn’t matter. Not when the warm glow of the lights hit his forearms like something out of a fantasy.

In pulling her against his body, one of David’s legs had slipped between hers, leaving her practically straddling one of his thick thighs. The seam of her jeans rubbing against his leg was doing absolutely indecent things to her body.

Was this an elaborate sex dream?

It was a familiar scene: the brooding, quiet man asks the girl to dance. His effortlessly sexy dance moves make her come in her Levi’s. He whispers naughty things in her ear in his low, throaty voice, and then they go outside to his truck and she rides him in the back seat.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy , or something like that.

But David was wearing soft joggers and Nike sneakers, not Wranglers and boots. And Sage, in her baggy jeans and single French braid, looked nothing like the protagonists from the novels she read.

Yep. Not a dream.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” David asked, his mouth close enough to her ear that she could feel the whisper of his breath against her skin.

Sage forced an exhale from her lips. She needed to get a hold of herself before she actually started grinding against his leg like a horny teenager. “Staying here,” she said, rising on her toes so she could speak against his ear and be heard over the music. “Didn’t think it was worth it to fly back to Cali for only five days.”

She also wasn’t entirely ready to subject herself to her mother, but that was another conversation.

“Hm.” It was a low hum that felt like it vibrated her bones. She shivered. “What would you normally do for the holiday if you were home?”

Sage smiled, temporarily distracted as she thought of the traditions that had emerged in her family over the years. “On Christmas Eve, we always gift books to each other and read while we eat tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Then on Christmas, we do a ‘make your favorites’ feast rather than traditional holiday food. Everyone makes their favorite dish, and then we fill in the sides as needed to make sure it’s a balanced meal.”

She felt his chuckle rumble in his chest. “Sounds very much like you,” he said.

Her cheeks warmed. “What about you? What are your plans?”

David didn’t immediately respond. Sage’s attention slipped back to their bodies, and she felt the moment when the thumb that rested against her lower back shifted, slipping up and under the hem of her t-shirt. When his skin brushed against hers, she felt her breath catch in her lungs.

There was an air of anticipation between them, like whatever happened next would set into motion a series of events that they were powerless to stop.

Sage tipped her head forward until her forehead met the cotton of the shirt that looked so different, so fucking good , on David’s bigger body. She knew that she was dancing on the edge of the boundaries they’d drawn, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away.

“Staying here too,” David finally said, and she felt the scratch of his beard against her cheek as he shifted his head away. “It’s getting late. We should probably head home.”

“Right,” Sage said, beginning to extract her body from his hold. “Good idea.”

When she went to tug her hand away from his, she felt his grip tighten for just a moment. She stopped, looking up at him, but found his gaze focused on where their hands were still connected. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then shook his head and pulled his hand away.

“I got the tab.”

Sage opened her mouth to protest, but David was already walking to the bar. An odd emptiness settled in her stomach as she gathered her bag and moved toward the exit.

It was just dancing .