Until Sage
Page 3

“So you’re kind of like a cop, but you’re not a cop. Why is that?”
“My dad’s a cop. He loves his job but hates that he has to deal with red tape. He can’t just go in and get a job done. He has to make sure all the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed.”
“So you don’t like red tape.”
“Basically,” he concurs as we pull into the drive through line of one of the small coffee huts that sits in a parking lot on Main Street. “Do you know what you’d like?”
“A large iced green tea,” I murmur, leaning forward to grab my purse so I can get some cash out. As soon as we pull up in front of the window, he places our order with the girl working inside. “Here.” I hold the ten-dollar bill in my hand toward him, and he shakes his head. “Please, let me pay for our drinks,” I press, but he ignores me and pulls down his visor, taking down a twenty from the bills he has stacked there. “You know, it’s kind of annoying that you won’t let me pay,” I inform him as he hands me my drink.
“You’ll survive.” He smiles at me before giving the girl a tip and pulling away from the window. “What’s your plans for the day?”
“I have a date with a bookshelf I bought from IKEA that will likely take me a year to put together. What about you?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.
“My schedule’s clear. Do you want some help putting it together?”
“Really?” I ask, stunned, and he brakes at a stop sign then turns to look at me.
“Sure.”
Wow, okay.
“That would be really nice,” I respond quietly as warmth and something soft and sweet spreads through me.
“Good,” he replies just as quietly, heading back to the mechanic shop, where he waits for me to pick up my car and pay before following me back to my place.
As soon as we reach the house, I lead him down the long driveway that curves around the back of the property. My apartment is above the third garage, but the way it’s set up makes it feel like I have my own space and I’m not living in someone else’s house. Hitting the remote for the garage, I pull inside and watch Sage drive up and park behind me. Grabbing my bags from the passenger seat, I open my door, get out, and head toward the trunk, where I meet him.
“Have you been over here before?” I ask when I see him looking around the neighborhood.
“I’ve spent my whole life in this town. When I was younger, I wanted to buy a house over here before the developers got a hold of it,” he says, taking my bags from me.
“You did?”
“Yeah, years ago, when this was nothing but farms and open land for miles.”
“I would have liked to see it then.”
“It was beautiful. My parents own a house a few miles down the road from here. Their house used to be in the middle of nowhere. Now, the city has grown up around them. My dad loves it, but my mom hates it and has been talking about moving farther out to get away from everyone.”
“This place is growing fast. Since I moved to town a couple months ago, they have built a Starbucks and a Taco Bell. I have never seen buildings go up so fast before,” I tell him as I head for the set of stairs inside the garage. With him at my back, I open the door to my apartment and turn on the light.
My apartment is just under six hundred square feet, with a combined kitchen and living room. There’s a small bedroom that is just big enough to fit my queen-size bed, two side tables, and a dresser, and a bathroom with a pedestal sink, and standup shower.
“This is nice,” he says, looking around, and I smile. I love my place. The dusty blue of the walls sets off the light gray colored wood floors that run through the place, making it seem bigger than it is, which is a bonus for sure.
“Thanks.” I take my bags from him. “But you should see the view from my bed,” I gush, then realize what I just said when his lips tip up. “Not that you will ever see it,” I add quickly, dropping my eyes to the floor as my cheeks get hot. “I just said that because I have a huge skylight over my bed that makes it feel like you’re sleeping under the stars,” I finish, then turn and head for my room without looking at him muttering, “I’ll be right back.”
Kicking off my sandals, I dump my bags on the bed then pick up my pillow and hold it to my face, wishing I could just scream. I’ve had three boyfriends. Two of them were when I was in high school, and one of them was in college. I haven’t dated since the last. Not really, anyway. I mean, I’ve gone out to dinner with a few guys, but nothing serious, and none of them ever came back to my place, so I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. Knowing he will hear me if I scream, I toss the pillow to the bed and head into the living room, where I find him standing over the demolished box my shelf came in.
“Did the box come like this?” he asks, looking at me, and I shake my head.
“No, it was in one piece when I bought it,” I say, and he looks from me to the destroyed box then back again. “It might have fallen down the stairs when I tried to carry it up here.”
“Just once?” he asks, and I let out a breath watching his lips twitch.
“Okay, a few times,” I revise, and he smiles.
“You got any tools?”
“Tools?” I repeat, and he presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at me. “I obviously know what tools are. I just don’t have any. Besides, it came with the little thingy to put it together.”
“Thingy?”
“Are you going to make fun of me or help me?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips, and his eyes move over my face then drop to where my hands are resting.
“I’m not making fun of you.”
“It feels like you’re making fun of me,” I point out, and he stands, and now that I don’t have my sandals on, he’s not just taller than me. He towers over me, making me feel tiny and fragile.
“I would never make fun of you. I think the way you talk is cute.”
“Oh.”
“I’m gonna go out to my truck to get my tool bag. Can I use that door?” He tips his head toward the sliding door off the kitchen that leads to a deck, which looks over one of the large ponds in the middle of the community.
“Yeah, but you’ll have to walk around the back of the building and go through the gate at the side. It’s easier if you just go out the garage. Besides, if Burt is out back, you may have to run from him, and I can tell you from experience that’s never fun,” I inform him, and his eyes have once again filled with humor.
“Who’s Burt?”
“My landlord’s Chihuahua. He’s small but scary as hell.”
“I’ll go out the garage.”
“That’s probably smart,” I murmur, and he shakes his head then opens the door and leaves. I listen to him head down the steps and hear him open the garage door. Standing here, I wonder what I should do, and then my stomach grumbles, reminding me I didn’t eat breakfast, which is something I definitely shouldn’t be missing out on. Since I need to take my pills, I really need to eat.
Opening the fridge, I grab the stuff to make myself a sandwich and hear Sage coming back up the steps. As soon as he is in the apartment and closes the door, I turn to watch him drop a huge bag of tools onto the floor near the box.
“Do you always travel with so many tools?”
“Most of the time,” he says, pulling out a power drill and a plastic box with attachments inside. “I work on my house when I have time, but I don’t leave my tools there since someone could break in and take them when I’m not around.”
“Is your house in a bad neighborhood?” I ask, opening the breadbox and pulling out a loaf, dropping it to the counter.
“Do you know Percy Priest Lake?”
“Yeah.” My eyes go to him over my shoulder, and I notice he already has the pieces of wood for the shelf separated into piles.
“My house is on the lake. The house is shit. One day it will be beautiful, but right now, it’s shit, which means I got it for practically nothing and will probably spend way too much fucking money and the rest of my life fixing it up.”