Encore Worthy: a Mountains & Men prequel novella (7 page)

“Figures,” he says softly, leaning toward me. He doesn’t stop until his lips are a breath away from mine. “Even your name is sexy.”

Before he can kiss me, his phone starts to ring again. He sighs as he pulls away from me and I cover up my disappointment, flipping the sandwich in the skillet.

“I should take this,” he mutters apologetically.

“You’re fine.”

“Bet your ass, I am.” He taps my backside and I roll my eyes. “Rosy,” he speaks into the phone. I can’t make out what is being spoken on the other end, but the woman doesn’t sound happy. Sage, on the other hand, can’t contain his laughter. “Pep—Pep . . . Pepper! Chill a minute, would you? Damn! I wasn’t screening my calls.” He laughs again and the sound makes my stomach flutter. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I love you, Pep. I’m kind of busy, sis, what do you need?” I flip the sandwich again, checking to see if both sides are the perfect golden brown. Noting that the top is lighter than the bottom, I flip it once more. “Count me in for dinner. Okay—I’ve got to go. Tell Rosy I said hi.” He chuckles once more and then ends the call.

“I swear, Pepper is the most anal-retentive twenty-five-year-old I know. I’d blame her maternal status, but I think she’s always been a little intense.”

I look away from the sandwich in front of me, confused by what he’s just said. “Wait—
who
is Pepper?”

“My big sis.”

My stomach drops. “She’s twenty-five?” Considering numbers are essentially what I
do
for a living, it takes me a fraction of a second to realize that there is
no way
Sage is older than twenty-four, making him no less than two years my junior. “How old is Rosy?”

“Nineteen,” he replies with a shrug. “Why?”

Shit.
It takes me another second to figure out that if his parents spaced out their children equally, Sage can be no older than twenty-two, making him
four
years my junior. Then again, he could be as young as twenty.

Fuck!

“How old are
you?”

“Um—twenty-one.
Why?”

“Oh,
shit.
”

He scrunches his brow at me and then his eyes flicker elsewhere. “Baby doll, I think you’re on the verge of charing that grilled cheese.”

I gasp, thoughtlessly using my hand to snatch the sandwich from out of the pan. It’s really hot, causing me to burn my fingers, and I drop it on a cool burner before sticking my fingers in my mouth. Then his words register in my head—
baby doll.
He called me
baby doll.
Sage—the twenty-one-year-old who fucked me all morning—is calling
me
baby.

Oh, my god.

I make my way out of the kitchen, moving as fast as my sore body and pounding head will allow. I hear Sage calling after me, but I ignore him as I gather the rest of his things from my room. Picking up his red Converse and his t-shirt, I spot the three abandoned condom wrappers scattered around the bed and I’m suddenly short of breath.

I’m older than his big sister, for fuck sake!

“Millie, I—What are you doing?” he asks when I turn and find him in my doorway.

“You need to go. Now. You need to go now.”

“Whoa, baby, slow down—what’d I miss?”

“
Stop
calling me baby!” I insist, shoving his things into his arms. “
You’re
the baby. Fuck—I can’t believe I slept with you. I’m like a cougar or a pedo or something.”

“What?” he scoffs with a grin. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re twenty-one! Oh, dear god, you’re barely legal,” I mutter, shoving him down the hallway. “You need to leave. Now. I mean it.”

“Millie, stop. Wait! How old are you?”

I feel it as my cheeks blossom with a blush and I curse my face. “Older than twenty-one, Sage.” I walk around him, unlocking the door and holding it open for him.

“Come on, you can’t be old enough for it to matter.”

I press my fingers against my temple, my headache amplified by my humiliation. “Do you know how old a twenty-one year old guy is in
girl
years? Like, fifteen.
Maybe
seventeen.
Shit.
I’m definitely a pedophile.”

“Hang on one fucking second—I resent that, first of all,” he argues, his face scrunching up in offense. “Second, unless you’re, like, thirty or something, I don’t understand why you’re freaking the fuck out.”

“Thirty? You think I look
thirty?
”

“Dammit, doll face, that’s
not
what I said. You’re being irrational. Let’s just go back into the kitchen, eat some grilled cheese, and talk about this.”

“Grilled cheese? Is that what’s got you so adamant about staying?” I hurry back to the kitchen, grab the half burnt sandwich, and return to the door. “Here. I’ve fed you. You can go now.”

“Millicent.” My breath catches in my throat at the way he says my name. For a second, I regret having told him. “You’re being ridiculous. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six. I’m older than your anal-retentive
big sis.
I’m also probably more OCD than she is, by the way. I’m sorry, but you have to go. We can’t do this.” I give him one more shove, forcing him on the other side of the threshold, and then I shut him out.

“Millie. Millicent! Are you being serious right now?”

I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the door. Images of Sage and his naked body flood my mind and I can’t stifle the whine that flees from my throat. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye—but fuck! Five years? Worse,
twenty-one?
He’s a baby!

A part of me wants to argue that he certainly owned my body like a man, but—

“Millicent—doll face, come on, let me in.”

“You need to go, Sage.”

I hear him huff out a sigh and then take a bite of his burnt sandwich. “I’ll be back, gorgeous,” he says, his mouth full. “You can count on it.”

Listening to him pad his way down the stairs in his bare feet, I’m not sure whether I feel hope or dread at the prospect of seeing him again. I draw in a deep breath and make my way back to the kitchen. As I begin to make another grilled cheese, a new wave of exhaustion hits. Now, the only thing I want to do is crawl back into bed and hide under the covers for the rest of the day.

A few minutes later, after I’ve plated my sandwich and filled up a glass of water to take back to my room, Sarah walks in—
glowing,
of course.

“Hey,” she practically chirps. I offer her a feeble nod. “So. You and Sage.”

For reasons I can’t quite explain, my heart sinks hearing his name. “Mm-mm,” I murmur. “We’re not doing this now. We’re not talking about it.” I have no doubt in my mind that Sarah knows how old Sage is, considering they call each other friends. I don’t even want to know what she’s thinking right now. To my relief, she doesn’t push the conversation. When she heads to her room, I make my way to mine, fully prepared to sleep for the rest of the day.

BY THE TIME I
get to my car, I’m halfway done with the grilled cheese sandwich Millie practically threw at me as she shoved me out the door. I hold it in my mouth as I throw my shirt over my head and tuck my feet into my shoes, finishing it as I sit perplexed in the driver’s seat.

I can’t believe, after the night we had, that she gives two shits about how old I am. I sure as hell don’t care. Our five year age gap is
not
that big of a deal. If we’re going to talk numbers, she should count the five orgasms I gave her—the five times she called out my name as she came apart at my touch.

Fuck.
This is not over. It can’t be.

I start my car and back out of the parking space, reluctantly leaving her apartment complex. I should probably stop at the house and shower, but I still smell like her and the thought of washing her away is far from appealing right now. Instead of heading home, I drive straight to Pepper’s. She lives with her husband, Dr. Harold Montgomery, on the south side of town. He gave my big sis a pretty pompous name, but Harry is a cool guy—wicked smart, totally down to earth and laid back, exactly what my sister needs. I wonder if he’ll be working today or if he’ll be around for dinner.

They’ve just about got a full house now. Their two boys, Henley and Carter, got a sister, Sophia, a few weeks ago. Pepper swears she’s done popping out kids now that Harry has made himself a girl, but I wouldn’t put it past them to have at least one more. Pep is an outstanding mother. She impresses me every day.

Rosy’s old, red, VW Bug sits parked on the side of the street in front of the house when I arrive. I shake my head as I pull into the space in front of her. That thing really is a piece of shit, but she loves it. She’ll drive it until it leaves her stranded on the side of the road somewhere and I have to pick her ass up. I can’t blame her for hanging onto it. She worked like hell to buy it after she graduated high school. Stubborn determination—that’s something she and I have in common.

I hear Henley and Carter before I even make it to the front door. I let myself in without knocking and see the two of them running around, their little bare feet clapping against the hardwood floor as they squeal with excitement. I can’t tell if Maestro is chasing them or if they’re chasing Maestro, but they all look happy. They don’t even notice me as I walk inside and find my way to the kitchen. Pepper is standing with her back to me, leaning against the counter as she watches them.

“You really should get them a dog,” I tell her before pressing a kiss on top of her head.

She jumps and then turns around to smack me playfully in the middle of my chest. “God, Sage, don’t sneak up on me like that!” She wraps her arms around me and I return her embrace before she pulls away. “And no. They don’t need a dog. They have Maestro.”

“Maestro is
my
dog,” I say with a chuckle, looking over at my black, french bulldog as he slides across the floor.

“And therein lies the beauty. He visits, they play, and then you take him home and take care of him. The
last
thing I need is someone else to take care of.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” It’s then that Maestro hears my voice. His head pops up and he barks once before he comes racing toward me. Henley and Carter follow and then catch on to who he’s after when they see me.

“Uncle Sage!” cries Henley.

“Unka Sage!” mimics Carter. At two, he’s still struggling to get his
l’s
out. Even I have to admit, it’s pretty damn cute.

I drop to my knees to greet all three of them. “Hey, guys, what’s happenin’?”

Henley speaks first, giving me the rundown of just about everything that his four-year-old brain can remember since I last saw him yesterday afternoon. I pet Maestro absentmindedly as I listen. It’s not hard to admit, my nephews are a couple of my favorite people.

“Where’s Sophia?” I ask them.

Carter’s eyes grow big as he brings a finger to his mouth and shushes me. “Aunt Wose has Sophia.”

Pepper chuckles from behind me and I look up at her with a grin. “She’s in the living room. Good luck prying Sophia away from her.”

I give her my best
oh, please
expression as I stand and head into the next room. Pepper has done a damn fine job of making their house extra homey, and the living room is everyone’s favorite place to chill. Rosy is being swallowed by one of their big, over-stuffed, brown armchairs. She’s got a textbook open in her lap and Sophia is nestled in her arms. Guessing by the small smile that lights her face, I’d say she’s not getting very much studying done. She looks up when she hears me approach.

“Hey, big bro. When did you get here?” she asks before puckering her lips.

I lean down and she kisses my cheek. “Just got here,” I murmur, admiring my niece. She’s sleeping, as if she knows the raucous her brothers are making is her reality and there’s nothing she can do about it. Rosy sniffs and I jerk my head back to look at her.

“You smell like a bar. And sex. And—” She sniffs once more. “Vanilla.”

“How the fuck do you know what sex smells like?” I ask, scowling at her.

She returns my scowl with one of her own before she smacks her little hand against the top of my head. “Language, Sage!”