Stirred: A Love Story (23 page)

“Like your dad.”

“Yeah, I guess. But he was in love once. Didn’t work out for him, but he went there.”

“And you don’t want that, you only want . . .” Suddenly feeling playful and desperately wanting to lighten the mood, she pursed her lips and squished her cleavage together.

Garrett laughed.

“What, are you laughing at my expert naughty? Here I thought I had mastered sexy.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Your sexiness has nothing to do with being naughty. It spills out of you. The sweet, the awkward, those eyes, and your hands, the way you dress, your neck, it’s all part of something so much better than naughty. That’s what makes it funny when you try.”

“Are you sure you’ve never been in love?”

He laughed and kissed her neck. “Pretty sure.”

She let out a slow breath as he unbuttoned her shirt. “That’s a real shame, because I think you’d be excellent at it.”

“Maybe I’ll look into it.” He picked her up, leaving the food. “Stay, Jack.”

“You do that, put it on the calendar. You know, in between peas and spinach.”

“We don’t grow peas.” He carried her into her bedroom.

“Huh, why not?”

“Joe Everett’s farm does peas and celery. They cover that local market, so we don’t step on their toes.”

He put her on the bed. “I like that, how you work together. It’s friendly and not competitive.”

“We’re up against the big guys. There’s no time to compete. Besides, organic peas are a bitch to grow. Joe’s good at it.” He opened her last button, kissed his way around her neck, and found her breasts.

“Oh, well.” Sage closed her eyes. “You grow spinach though.”

Garrett nodded, his tongue gliding, making it almost impossible for her to speak, which was saying something.

“Kale?”

Garrett stopped playing with her body. She opened her eyes and he was looking at her, smiling.

“What?”

“Are you trying to turn me on with vegetables?”

She laughed and shrugged. “Does that work?”

He kissed her. “Everything seems to work with you.”

Sage woke the next morning before the sun and Garrett was gone. The note next to her on the pillow read:

Duty Calls

Garrett

Pulling the covers up over her head, she couldn’t fall back to sleep. The card still lay on her pillow, she could smell him on her covers and for an instant, that wasn’t terrifying. She felt surrounded by him. After a few more minutes of staring up at the ceiling, she got up, showered, and tried to talk herself into yoga over a piece of toast and tea. She’d resolved to be good when her phone vibrated with a text:

Sorry I had to leave.

If you’re not doing anything, I’d like to plant flowers with you.

I’ll be here most of the day. Come on up if you can.

She smiled and texted back:

I’m not sure what I’m getting myself into, but I’d love to. See you soon.

Chapter Twenty-Two

S
age arrived at Garrett’s house two hours later, feeling as if they were more of a couple than she ever had before. The expectation scared her, but the sight of him standing among hundreds of cartons of flowers was worth the drive.

“Hey there,” she said, walking over to him and taking in that he was even more beautiful among the dirt. He wasn’t wearing the tool belt, but he was wearing the sexy gloves. When she’d told Kenna about the sexy, worn leather gloves, Kenna exclaimed that was the last straw and “only an insane person” thought gloves were sexy. Insane she must be then, because those things were deadly.

“Hey.” He kissed her.

“I need to replace this section of the flower bed and I’ve always done this bed myself, but I thought I might invite you since…” He let out a breath instead of finishing his thought and then something shifted in his eyes. “So this”—he spread his arms wide—“is one of the projects on the calendar for today.”

“Huh.” She grabbed a pair of gloves that sat on a big tub of potting soil and put them on. It wasn’t lost on her that he was letting her into something he did on his own or that she should return the gesture, but at that moment, she needed to keep things light. “So you’re kind of like Martha Stewart. Is cleaning the gutters on the calendar too? Chicken coops?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I think so.”

He laughed and even though he looked tired, he seemed happy. She knew she must be part of that because he was certainly part of her happiness these days.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had my hands in the dirt, not like this.”

“Well, you are in for a treat,” he said, squinting and then putting his sunglasses on, which only enhanced the sexy gloves.

They scooped, squeezed, and shook root beds in silence for a few minutes. The smell of the morning dew and heat of the sun on her neck reminded Sage why she loved being out there. Jack sat obediently in the sun chewing on a bone.

“So, have you ever been in love?” he asked her.

Sage laughed, picked up a carton of tall purple flowers, and pulled her hat farther down on her head.

“So, have you?” he asked again, stopping to drink some water.

“Have I what?” The question with a question rarely worked, but she was having a great day and didn’t feel like answering.

“Ever been in love.”

She stood and shot him a look she hoped conveyed the answer.

“I mean other than me, and since we’re on that subject, ‘I love you’ said while intoxicated does not count. So don’t think you’re going to get credit for loving me longer.”

“Love credit, is that a thing?”

He laughed. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, well, I thought I was in love. See, I’ve learned it all depends on where a person is at in their life. How they feel about themselves sort of shapes what kind of love they feel.”

Garrett shook his head.

“I know, but it’s not only Oprah. It’s true. So, to answer your question, yes. I loved someone and. . . he didn’t love me back.”

Garrett kept working, so she did too.

“When were you in love with this asshole?”

Sage smiled.

“His name was Brad.”

“Well, there’s your problem right there.”

“We worked together and things didn’t work out. The end.”

Garrett stood from his crouched position over square buckets of flowers and took off one glove. “Was he mean?”

Sage nodded. Garrett moved to planting flowers next to her, as if being closer would somehow help. For the next hour, they planted and Sage told the sob story she’d never told to another soul except for Kenna. Brad had been a few years older. She was infatuated. But some time into the relationship, she realized she was no longer a whole person; he’d made her feel small, like she wasn’t enough. It was a tale told by women time and time again. Sage hated being part of it, hated that she’d allowed someone to make her feel less than. She explained to Garrett some of the things she’d learned about herself over the years and that she vowed never again to hand over her happiness to another person.

“So that’s why you do so many things alone.”

She nodded.

“I get that. I do things alone too. Especially since everyone’s been moving on with their lives lately.”

“Does that bother you?”

“That they’ve left? I. . . I don’t think about it,” he said, and she knew from the look on his face, that was a lie.

As promised, Garrett made sandwiches and they sat out on his deck.

“I have to check in with George, but do you want to go out later? Maybe somewhere that doesn’t involve dirt or booze?” he said jokingly.

“I have the symphony tonight.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’ll go with you.”

“I only have one ticket and I. . . I’d rather go by myself.”

“Okay, afraid to take a farmer?”

She laughed. “I’ve seen you cleaned up. No, it has nothing do with you. It’s my thing.”

“Do you want to explain?”

“Not particularly.”

They sat in silence.

“When I remade my life, I decided there are certain things I do for myself and they stay that way, sort of like my anchors in case I need to find my footing again. Yoga, the symphony, and crossword puzzles are my anchors. I do them alone. They’re mine.

He waited so she explained further.

“When the relationship ended, we had mutual friends and places we ate. I was a little lost for a while. Then I read in this book that every woman needs anchors. There was some metaphor about storms, not specific to men but life storms. I loved that idea, so I created some of my own. I guard them. You should understand. Isn’t this place one huge anchor for you?”

“Yeah, but I invited you over to play in my dirt.”

She laughed.

“I’m kidding. I get it. Anchors, I like that,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I like you.” He pulled her close.

“That’s good, because I like you too.”

“I know.”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure how you feel about me, so maybe you could show me?”

“But you’re all dirty.”

“And here I thought you liked it dirty,” slipped right off her lips in a husky voice Sage barely recognized.

Garrett raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That”—he took her hand and led her into the house—“was very naughty. Damn, have you been practicing?”

She hit his shoulder. “You wish.”

He kissed her and gently rolled her onto the couch until she was on top of him, looking down with those sparkling eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was that she’d been hurt or if he was simply happy to spend a day off planting flowers with her. Whatever it was, he was so damn grateful and his chest filled with the need to tell her, to give back everything she gave him.

“I love you,” he said, softly wiping a smudge of dirt off her cheek. “To answer the question you asked me before. No, I’ve never felt like this, but I know I love you. I can feel it everywhere.”

Her tear landed on his neck. She wiped her eyes with a smile. “I love you too,” she said, and then she showed him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

S
age had managed to break two glasses less than an hour into the lunch rush. She was off her game. Too much time relaxing, she thought with a smile. Once everyone was refilled and happy, she stepped outside to catch her breath. Taking out her phone, she returned a text from Chris asking if she was free to grab coffee. When she’d told him she couldn’t have dinner, he’d downshifted to coffee. The man was persistent, but it was time to let him know she was involved, unavailable, in love, all of the above. She went with the simple excuse that she’d reconnected with someone from her past and she wished him well. He replied with one of those crying faces and a request to keep him in mind if things changed. Feeling better that it was done, Sage took one more deep breath of the afternoon sunshine and returned to work.

Garrett’s father was sitting at the end of the bar, talking with Kenna. Herbert Rye was a combination of all his children, as if he’d given pieces of himself to each one. Sage never wondered about their mother because so much of Herb was reflected in his kids. He sat with his reading glasses propped on his nose, and Sage couldn’t tell whether he held an iPad or an e-reader from where she stood making a screwdriver at the opposite end of the bar. She handed the drink to the waiting server, poured a woman with a silver bob and bright red fingernails another glass of fume blanc, then moved down the bar, checking as she went.

“Hi, you two. I sort of feel like one of those geniuses at the Apple Store. Whatcha doing there, Mr. Rye?”

Kenna rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated.

“Hi, dear, and please call me Herb. Kenna made me donate all of my paper books and return my library books because she bought me this”—he held up what she could now see was an iPad—“for Christmas. Wave of the future and all.”