Page 34 of Leashed

Chapter Thirteen

Sage passed her keys over to Bo without hesitation as she ran the final credit card through the machine, calling her thanks while he walked outside to start her car. Sliding a pen and the receipt across the counter to her customer, she untied her apron and wrapped it up, smiling at the woman and waving at the group as they left.

She poked her head into the kitchen and gave her manager a quick salute before collecting her coat and purse and heading out the door.

“You always park this far away?” Bo asked, gingerly hefting the bag on his back as he opened the passenger door and got in. “Who usually walks you out?”

“I walk me out,” she replied, sitting and yanking the door shut, angling the heat vents toward her freezing hands. “Is it in there?”

His hands ran over the bag. “Yeah. But would you be okay with me maybe following you home and showing you there? There’s a lot of detail the lights in here will miss.”

“No deal,” she huffed, determined to maintain a decent distance from him.

He snorted. “Fine. Bean There, Done That then.”

She took a moment to contemplate his suggestion.

Coffee was a friend activity.

A completely acceptable middle ground.

“Fine.”

She waited until she saw the lights of his truck and pulled in front of him when he came to a stop on the road, allowing her to lead the way. Checking her phone as he parked tight behind her, a strange combination of relief and disappointment washed over her as she realized her last messages to Nixon remained unanswered.

He’d been quite clear it was a busy networking season for him during their last phone conversation four days prior. She’d continued to text him out of habit, the desire to connect with him replaced by the feeling it was another box to check on her daily to-do list.

Bo stood on the sidewalk, holding his arm out for her as she crossed an icy patch. “Don’t get your hopes too high about how cool this stuff is,” he muttered, opening the restaurant door. “I mean, it’s some cool sh…stuff, but whatever.”

She followed him to a booth at the back of the room, her curiosity rising while she watched him cradle the bag. “I promise to keep my expectations low.”

“Good advice to follow where I’m concerned,” he retorted, finally giving her a grin before turning to the server. “Menus, two waters, and…you want a coffee?” When she nodded, he continued. “Two coffees, please.” He waited until they were alone and unzipped the bag. “So check this out.”

She held her hands out, her eyes widening as he passed her the artifact. “No. Way.” She ran her fingers over the black figures adorning the Greek amphora, tilting it carefully to search for a trademark or origin stamp. “This can’t be real. It’s pristine.” She leaned forward and squinted into the opening. “And it reeks of wine.”

“Reeks is an understatement,” he grunted, stretching his arms across the back of his seat as the server set their drinks down. “My uncle has a collection of these and left this one behind for me. Give it a tap.”

Flicking the body of the amphora with her finger, she bit her lip and dipped her thumb into her water glass, running it along the unglazed base and inhaling. “Pottery isn’t my specialty, but if this is forged, it’s really good.”

Bo pulled it toward him, ran his fingers along the inside, and showed her the red liquid staining his fingertips. “Give that a try.”

She eyed him for a moment before mimicking him, sampling the dark wine coating her hand. “That’s strong,” she laughed as a shiver ran through her. “Is your uncle a winemaker?”

“Kind of,” he replied, looking over the menu. “Why don’t you take that to your professor and let him run whatever tests he needs to on it?”

Tracing the art adorning the belly of the jug, she shook her head. “I can’t take this anywhere,” she protested. “If I dropped it or damaged it, I’d feel horrible.”

“And I have more, so why the hell not?” he said, lifting another out of his bag. “I have a backup.”

The server returned, taking their orders and topping up Bo’s water. She sat back, grasping her coffee cup with both hands to keep herself from fiddling with the antique. “So is that where you’ve been hanging out this week? Your uncle’s place?”

He rested his elbows on the table and spun the elastic on his wrist, head bowed slightly. “Just today. My brother and I went for a stupidly long run through the forest before he left for Minnesota and my uncle swung by after to see him off.” He looked up at her and smirked. “I’m in agony right now.”

“You look like hell too,” she stated, ignoring the chill that went through her when those blue and green eyes glanced up at her. “I mean, you’re a little more rough than usual.”

Rough was an understatement.

In the light of the restaurant, she had a good view of Bo’s muddied clothes and the inordinate amount of pine needles embedded in his shirt and hair. She reached across the table to pluck one from his shoulder, snatching her hand back before she made contact.

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