Sage perform a long-winded mating ritual, okay? This is one of those things that’s really fucking boring if you’re not the one who’s trying to get laid.”
“I’m not— We’re not, I mean… and it’s not boring…” My words trail off into a stammering mess. Declan smirks. “Oh, fuck off.”
He turns on a heel and starts to amble away. “I have a bunch of proposals to read and financials to look at anyway. But tell Sage thank you for tonight. This answered all my questions about Saturday-night social rituals rarely seen in our boring, insulated little world.”
Two things occur to me as he disappears around the corner of a building. One, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing Declan talk about business like a bona fide adult. We could be in our eighties, watching our grandkids graduate prep school, and I’ll still think it’s weird to hear him talk about anything but yachts, women, and booze.
And two, Sage doesn’t need to hear a word of what he just said.
I head for the garage, trying to ignore the anticipation creeping up my spine. If I were smart, I’d just call my own car service and get out of here instead of blurring the lines between Sage and me even more. Whatever it is I’m doing here tonight, it isn’t about closing this deal anymore and I know it. I could claim that it’s all a strategy, that I’m simply getting to know a member of the Wells family better, but that would be a lie.
And something inside me doesn’t want to pretend otherwise. At least for tonight, I don’t. Tomorrow I could wake up and regret sticking around, looking for Sage, when I know it’s only going to make things harder in the long run. Plus she might not even be here. If she isn’t, then I’m really going to feel like a fucking idiot.
When I step inside, the shop is quiet. A bank of lights at the back of the room goes out just as I walk in, and Cody emerges from the darkened side of the shop, followed by his dog.
The dog comes right up to me and nudges my hand with his nose so I’ll pet him. I have no idea what breed he is since I’ve never seen another dog that looks like a giant cotton ball with feet, but he has the personality of an agreeable puppy, making up for all of his owner’s grumpiness. I give the dog a quick scratch under the muzzle just as Cody flicks a quick glance my way.
“She’s not here.”
“Oh. Well, I just wanted to catch up with her and say congrats on the win before I left. No big deal,” I say. “And you’re here. So, you know, that’s a plus.”
Cody’s nose scrunches up as if what I just said doesn’t pass his smell test. We both know it shouldn’t, so I don’t bother pressing the issue.
He walks off toward a large toolbox, slams the top shut, and digs a set of keys out of his pocket.
“She’s in the stands. That’s where she goes when she wants to celebrate. Or when she wants to sulk. Sometimes she wants to sulk and commiserate with someone. Sometimes she wants to be alone.”
I try to decide if his words are a prompt for me to go find Sage or a warning to stay away. Leave it to Cody to play riddle-me-this when I’m not in the mood for it.
When I don’t move, Cody shoots me an exasperated look. He should try standing over here for a second; maybe then he would understand how confusing it is. But Cody just continues about the room, slamming cabinet doors and tossing things into a second toolbox. I know he wants me to leave—he always does—but he’s not going to get his way if I have to decipher this all on my own. Finally I’ve had enough.
“So?” I ask. “Does she want to be alone tonight or what?”
“Guess you’ll find out when you get there.”
“That’s helpful,” I mutter.
Cody locks the second toolbox and then walks over to Sage’s desk, picking up a plastic Big Gulp cup that’s perched on top of some paperwork. He peers into it, appears to decide it’s clean enough to suit him, and then yanks open a desk drawer. He retrieves a small plastic bottle of what looks like cheap whiskey. After that, he goes over to the shop refrigerator, fills the cup with ice from the freezer, and then grabs