Page 74 of Leashed

“Thank you,” she murmured.

With a flippant wave, he hunched over his own drink and got as comfortable as he was going to get with Sage close enough to touch, nothing but an engagement ring and a fucking myth standing between them.

*

The small gatheringhad tripled in size by the time Sage finally bailed out, thanking Clotho for including her even if she knew it had been a setup. Keeping her eyes averted from the one person she hadn’t spoken to all evening, she waved goodbye and stepped outside into the cold night air.

Entering her apartment for the last time, she eased her door shut and leaned against it, closing her eyes to center herself against the tightness in her chest that carried up to her throat and shoulders.

It hadn’t been how good Bo looked that caught her breath when he’d walked into the cafe, though she couldn’t deny she had apparently developed a weakness for long hair pulled back into a hasty ponytail. And perhaps her eyes had drifted to the band of his low-slung jeans as he stood and reached over to pass empty cups to the server, the brand of his boxers displayed atop the visible lines of his V-cut.

She still wasn’t a fan of the curse-laden shirt he was wearing underneath the black button-down, even if she’d read the offensive slogan over dozens of times.

But the coffee.

When he’d passed her favorite specialty to her, she’d caught sight of a gold ring on his pinky, a detailed engraving of a dog and a man on the face.

She’d felt her thumb grazing her own oversized and opulent ring, turning the stone inward to her palm.

She wanted to ask about it. Wanted to examine it under the dim cafe lights. Wanted to hear him spin a tale about it she could refute.

Or one she could believe.

She heard his ascent onto her patio before he knocked softly on the glass doors.

“Sage?”

Pushing her hair behind her ears, she schooled her expression and slid the door open, steeling herself to remain impassive while her heart pounded in her chest. “Hey,” she said, gripping the frame to keep him in his place. And her hands busy. “Thanks again for the coffee,” she added, her manners taking over by rote as her nerves sent a tremble through her hands. “All four of them,” she corrected, licking her lips and exhaling.

He was almost looking at her, his eyes skimming just past her shoulder. “No problem. You moving?”

“Into Nixon’s condo,” she replied, stepping aside to show the pile of boxes she’d managed to haul beside the front door. “It looked like a lot more when it was spread out in here.”

Nodding, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You’ll probably get it all in one load, even in your little car.”

“Most of it’s going into a storage unit in the morning.” She took a step back, unintentionally inviting him to breach the invisible barrier of her door frame. “Just a few bags are going with me.”

His lips drew into a thin line before he shifted his gaze from the stack. “So did you give that number a call? Charlotte?”

She had the number saved in her notes app on her phone.

Written down in her day timer.

And entered onto a document on her computer that she had labeled “work links.”

Research purposes, she had told herself as she inputted the number backward in case anyone happened to open the document. It wasn’t that Bo was still an option, unbelievable history and all.

The ring on her hand and the pathetic pile of boxes in her apartment were a testament to that.

“Sage?”

She shook her head. “It’s been busy around here,” she muttered, her voice as weak as her excuse.

“Obviously,” he retorted, nudging her overnight bag with his toe. “I suppose I should be saying congratulations.”

Sitting on her sofa, she gave him a tight smile, his last text to her still emblazoned in her memory. “Thanks.” She stared at the floor, the awkwardness of the situation warring with the need for him to stay a little longer. “If you want to sit…”

*

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