Page 21 of Scrape the Barrel
Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes stayed glued to mine, and fuck, I hadn’t looked at someone like this in so long.Reallylooked at them. It was like I could see all of herjust in her eyes; pain, beauty, happiness—it was all right there, laid out like a map.
But why pain?
Sage seemed so…pure. Like she could do no wrong, and yet she held this worry like it was a part of her.
It shouldn’t be, and the side of me that wanted to fix everything for everyone screamed at me to get it out of her, and make the only thing that shined on that beautiful face joy.
Lowering my hand to wipe it on my black vest, I cleared my throat. “Sorry. You had some flour on your cheek.”
Her cheek moved in a way that told me she was gnawing on it from the inside. “Thank you.”
I dipped my chin and moved to grab a stack of Tupperware. Sage did the same, leaving the trunk open as we headed back inside the library.
“Do you bake for events like this often?” I asked. Silence was deafening, and I was already feeling anxious being at this meeting. People would soon fill the space entirely.
Using a shoulder to push the door, I used my boot to keep it propped open while allowing her space to move past me.
“Sometimes. Working full-time at the cafe leaves me little free time to do things like this on the side, but if people ask, I’ll always say yes.”
I internally smiled at that. People pleasing was my best and worst trait, and it seemed to be hers, too.
Making our way through the library and back into the meeting room, we set our stacks beside each other on the table, then headed back out for the rest.
“Are you staying for the meeting?” I asked as I closed her trunk, balancing the Tupperware in one hand.
Her thumb idly rubbed at a spot on the bottom container as she walked beside me on the sidewalk toward the building. “I don’t want to impose.”
A burst of air blew through my nose as I kept my eyes trained ahead of me. “There’s going to be fifty or so people here, Sage. You’re not imposing.”
Adjusting the containers in my hand, I opened the door for her again, but she paused, causing me to look at her. “Thank you for helping me with these.”
My brows drew together slightly under the brim of my hat. She didn’t need to thank me again. “No problem. You’d have taken twice the amount of trips back and forth alone.”
She blinked, the corners of her mouth turning up the smallest bit. “You’re right,” she said, her voice quieter than before. She passed me and it took me a moment to follow. Was I doing the wrong thing by helping her? My mom had said she’d call when she arrived, and if she did, no one told me about it. Maybe she hadn’t wanted help?
Either way, that didn’t sit right with me.
After our short walk through the library into the back room, we sat our piles next to each other again.
“Did your mom have a certain way she wanted these set out?” Sage asked, keeping her gaze on the table.
“Any of the platters is fine.”
She grabbed the ceramic beige oval one with green edges and set it next to the array of sliced sandwiches, getting to work laying the sweets out. Assuming she didn’t need me watching her like a hawk, I went back to what I was doing before Sage walked in.
I wasn’t sure if she planned to sit in on the meeting or wait outside until we were done, but a small part of me hoped she’d sit somewhere in here, if only so I could steal small glances at her throughout the hours-long meeting.
I shouldn’t want that, but here I was, silently wishing for it.
9
Sage
Romance novels held too much expectation for men in real life.
There was no way some guy would do all these sweet things like the man in this book was doing. I’d opted to stay in the main part of the building while the meeting took place in the back. I’d started the book while waiting, but was kicking myself for doing so because now I’d want to take it home and finish it.
It felt like I didn’t belong in the room with everyone else, which was why I was now sitting on the floor in the romance section. I wasn’t volunteering with the rescue, so I had no business sitting in on their discussion.
