by Verna Clay
Several minutes before five, Sarah sat nervously on the couch with her hands tucked under her knees. She hadn't felt this anxious in a long time. You'd think I was going on a date.
She glanced from her wrapped foot to the other one in her fancy cowboy boot, wishing she could have worn both of them. Hearing a door close at the back of the house, she waited for Sage to enter from the kitchen. When he walked into the room, she couldn't breathe. He looked like he'd just stepped off the cover of Cowboy Vogue with his longish mahogany hair brushed back and golden highlights visible even inside the house. He wore an off-white Chambray shirt tucked into faded low-riding Levis. An intricately tooled deep-chocolate leather vest complimented his tan. The inevitable leather belt and silver buckle encrusted with semiprecious stones completed the look.
Sarah realized she was staring and quickly looked down at his brown and beige ostrich boots.
"Ready to go, Sarah?" If he'd noticed her gaping, at least he was polite enough to act like he hadn't.
"Ah, yes." She reached for her crutches while he opened the front door. On the porch, she asked, "Where's Julie?"
He pointed toward the dorm where Julie was talking to a teenage boy in front of Newt's truck. The rest of the guests were loading into the van. Sage helped Sarah down the porch steps and then opened the truck's door. Julie rushed over and Sarah waited for her to enter first.
Sage said, "No, Sarah, you first. You'll be able to stretch your leg out better." To her chagrin, he took her crutches and put them in the truck bed, then bent to catch her under the knees and lift her into the cab. Julie waited for her to scoot to the center of the seat and Sage hopped in on the driver's side. Although she tried to keep from rubbing shoulders with him, there was no help for it. Every time the truck hit a bump, she was forced against him. He smelled like pine trees and fresh air.
* * *
Sage held the door open to Big Bertha's Steak House for all the dudes, Newt, and Beaner to enter. The hostess knew the routine and led them to a reserved area at the back of the restaurant. Three tables had been pushed together end-to-end and two servers descended to take drink orders as soon as everyone was seated. More servers distributed menus. Sage sat at one end of the table and Newt at the other. Jacob and Julie sat next to each other about halfway down, with Sarah beside Julie and Beaner beside Jacob. Mr. and Mrs. Tully were on either side of Newt and the Hackstetters were next to them. Mr. Hackstetter pulled out his cell phone and started texting. Obviously, he now had cell phone service. He ignored his wife's glare. Sage watched him glance at her and mouth the words, "What! What!" She blinked rapidly and looked down, surreptitiously swiping at her eyes. Sage looked back at her husband. Asshole.
The M and M twins had maneuvered themselves to either side of Sage and he frequently felt the brush of a slender leg. He sighed. Newt was recounting one of his stories about the Wild West that Sage had heard at least a hundred times. He turned his attention to Sarah.
If ever there was a greenhorn trying to look country, she was it. She stood out like a sore thumb. He lifted his napkin to his mouth to hide a smile. She looked cute as hell! At the moment, he couldn't remember why he'd ever considered her plain. He had to stifle a laugh. Somehow, Sarah—alias Mims—was the only woman he knew who personified the words prudish but feisty. She glanced at him and he held her gaze. She looked away first and turned pink. She was looking cuter by the second.
He turned his attention to his guests and talked the same old bullshit he did at every dudes' dinner, except this one was more fun.
After a dinner of juicy steaks, country fries, homemade rolls, corn-on-the-cob, green salad, and peach pie for dessert, Newt took the teenagers to Archie's Video Depot so the adults could enjoy a rip-roarin' time at Boot Bustin' Barn. Sarah rode with Sage while Beaner drove everyone else in the van. At the club, he came around to open her door and laughed at her wide-eyed expression. The "Barn" did have certain flair with its gigantic bull statue in a parking lot lit by neon lights. Every few minutes, the monster made itself known.
Sage helped Sarah out of the truck and when he reached for her crutches, the bull mooed and bucked and lights flashed. Sarah shrieked and grabbed his shoulder. Immediately, she jerked back. "Oh, jeez, I'm so sorry. That thing caught me by surprise. I didn't expect it to talk and move."
Sage almost couldn't stop laughing. "Hey, you're not the first person taken by surprise." He handed her crutches to her. "Tonight will be great research for your book. Did you bring a tablet?" He was only joking, but when she patted her purse and nodded, he choked and pretended to cough so she wouldn't think he was making fun of her.
Inside, he was greeted by the Barn crew, who knew him well because of all the dudes he brought. Sally, a leggy waitress in skin tight Levis and a push up bra under a black tank top, the uniform of all the waitresses, led them to their reserved tables draped with red and white checkered plastic tablecloths. Their spot was in the farthest corner from the stage because it afforded a good view of the band, the bar, the pool table, the dance floor, but also allowed for a semblance of conversation. Sage pulled out a chair for Sarah. Of course, the twins flanked him again. In their skin fitting black jeans, red stiletto boots and red satin cowboy shirts unbuttoned far enough to allow an excellent show of cleavage, every cowboy in close proximity was moseying over to check out the view.
"What'll ya'll have?" Sally drawled and winked at Sage. They had gone to high school together and Sally had been one of Marylou's bridesmaids. Although he knew the town speculated as to whether he and Sally had ever had a "thing" after Marylou's death, they never had. Sally was a good friend. Besides, she'd always had a "thing" for Howard, another high school friend. Long ago, Howard had left their small town, but Sally still carried a torch for him and practically swooned whenever he stopped by the Barn on one of his rare visits.
"The beers on me," Sage announced. "Anything else and it's your dime. Beaner and I are the designated drivers, so we don't drink. Have a great night!"
"I'll have a Bud," Mr. Hackstetter said absently to his wife while text messaging. Even Boot Bustin' Barn couldn't get him to pocket the damn phone. His wife gave him a hurt look. Sage suddenly had an inspiration and motioned to Sally. When she leaned down, he put his mouth close to her ear and gave instructions. She stood and didn't even bat an eyelash, but the twinkle in her eyes said she understood and agreed.
The band walked onto the raised platform of what was jokingly called a stage. Next to the dance floor, someone climbed onto the coin-operated mechanical bull, and Sage watched Sarah's delighted expression as the thing went wild while the cowboy held the reins with one hand and his Stetson above his head with the other.
In the midst of the mayhem, the band called, 1-2-3-4 and struck the chords to a shit-kickin' tune. Sally expertly wielded a large round tray with pitchers of beer through cowboys and cowgirls dashing to the dance floor. She reached their table and set a Bud in front of Mr. Hackstetter and a pitcher in the center along with iced mugs. She unloaded her other pitcher and mugs at the next table before heading back to the bar for more. Mindy and Mandy were already sloshing beer into their glasses and Sarah's too.
Both girls were chugging ale when two lanky cowboys approached, hats in hand, asking for a dance. Mindy grabbed the arm of one cowboy and Mandy grabbed the arm of the other. Sage grinned when they wiggled their curvy butts away from him. Freedom.
He glanced at Sarah and dropped his jaw. She actually had a notepad out and was scribbling as fast as she could. He decided to have a little fun. "Sarah, have you tried your beer yet?"
"I don't drink."
"Come on, Sarah; cowboy up. Don't tell me you've come this far with your research not to follow through. You can't have a shit-kickin' time without drinkin' a little beer."
She studied his face, seemingly pondering his words. "I guess you're right." Delicately, she picked up her mug and sipped. "It doesn't taste very good, does it?"
He laughed, "I suppose that depends on who's doing the t
asting." Surprised, he watched her try another sip.
"Maybe it will grow on me."
Sage turned his attention to the cowboy approaching Mrs. Hackstetter. Jackson Martinez, the blond foreman of Triple T Ranch, was known to have a way with the women. Politely, he grinned and asked her to dance. After a quick glance at her husband, she shook her head no. Jackson looked disappointed and started to turn away when she changed her mind. She accepted his hand and followed him to the dance floor where he proceeded to teach her the current moves. Sage glanced at Mr. Hackstetter. He looked like he'd just swallowed a hot coal. Jackson got real close to Mrs. Hackstetter and she giggled like a school girl.
Sage glanced back at Sarah and did a double-take; a third of her beer was gone and she was still sipping. The song ended and a new one began. Jackson walked Mrs. Hackstetter back to her chair and gave her a sexy, bedroom look. She'd barely sat down when another cowboy asked her to dance. She didn't even hesitate to show off her new moves.
Unfortunately, the M and M gals returned and pulled Sage from his chair, determined to dance with him. Because refusing would only cause a scene and probably make the sisters all the more determined, he allowed himself to be dragged to the floor. Oh boy, he was once again an M and M sandwich, only this time it was on the dance floor of Boot Bustin' Barn. Sally dodged dancers while carrying her tray and he sent her a pleading look. She only shook her head. He could read her mind. I'm too busy; you're on your own. Mindy and Mandy snaked their bodies up against his and he looked over to see Sarah had emptied her mug.
* * *
Sarah's head felt fuzzy. She kind of liked the feeling. At least it numbed the bad feelings she was having toward Mindy and Mandy as she watched them put the moves on Sage. She didn't want to feel jealous, but she did. When she tried to write on her notepad, her fingers wouldn't grip the pencil. Finally, she gave up and looked at Mr. Hackstetter. What was his first name, Jerry, Jerrod, Jerk; something that started with a "J". But since everyone called him Mr. Hackstetter, she decided she would too. He had that "Mister" look about him. Actually, he looked kind of nerdy—nerdy and mad. She followed his gaze. Mrs. Hackstetter looked happy in the arms of a cute cowboy. Sarah wished her fingers worked so she could write down all this great research.
The song ended and a slow one started. Even though Mindy and Mandy tried to get Sage to slow dance with both of them at the same time, he shook his head and came back to their table. Another cowboy quickly stepped up to the girls and seemed delighted with their version of slow dancing.
Sage sat beside her. "So, Sarah, have you changed your mind about the taste of beer?"
"Maybe yes, maybe no, Cowboy." She couldn't believe she'd just said that.
Sage chuckled. "I think you're tending toward the 'yes' side."
* * *
Sage pulled his truck in front of his house. "Sarah, we're home." He gently nudged her shoulder. She'd slumped against the passenger door shortly after leaving the Barn and occasionally filled the cab with unladylike snores. He came around to her side of the truck and opened the door, catching her as she tumbled out.
"Eeek!" she squealed and grabbed his vest front. "Is it time for another beer?"
Sage chuckled, "No Sarah, I think your beer drinking days are over. You turn into a lush after a few sips."
"Yes, I know my blush is quite fetching."
It took a second for Sage to understand what she was talking about and then he busted out laughing. "Sarah, you are the most entertaining woman I've met in years. Come on, let's get you to bed." He reached under her knees and lifted her into his arms. She was heavier than the skinny models he posed with and the occasional one-night stand he allowed himself to keep his frustration level manageable. She felt good. Her busty bosom rubbed his chest. She'd loosened the strings of her peasant blouse earlier when the Barn had become stiflingly hot. The M and M girls had nothing on her in the "stacked" department.
On the porch, he stood her upright and leaned her against the wall next to the door. She swayed and he reached to catch her.
"Whoops," she giggled, and tightened her grip on his vest, pulling him close.
"Mims, I'm trying to open the door. You're going to have to let go." She let go and started to topple again. He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her against the wall. "Now what are we going to do. I can't open the door if I'm holding you up."
"I guess you're in a pickle," she slurred.
Sage laughed low and glanced down at her breasts straining over the top of her blouse. She'd already made him hard, but now he became painfully so. "I've got to get you to bed." Bad choice of words. "I need a little help here," he whispered in her ear. Another bad choice of words.
Mims moved her head until her lips hovered above his. "Okay, gorgeous model man."
Sage couldn't catch his breath. Her lips, barely grazing his, shifted the clutch in his heart and knocked it into high gear. Slowly, she put more pressure against his mouth. He didn't move. For a long time, they just stood lips to lips. Finally, she opened her palms against his chest and rubbed from his pecs to his abs and back again, sending his body into arousal heaven. He touched his tongue to her lips. She moaned and opened her mouth. Reaching for her arms and pulling them around his neck, he kissed and licked his way from her mouth to the tops of her straining breasts.
"Oh God," she whispered, pressing against him and entwining her fingers in his hair. He lifted his head and captured her mouth again, holding nothing back. When he broke away, she said, "You smell like sunshine." Her unexpected remark jostled him and he lifted away from her, guilt flooding him. He'd taken advantage of her imbibed state. He groaned and looked into her up-tilted face.
"Princess, I think we just crossed the bounds of ranch owner and ranch guest…not something I'm proud of. Let's get you inside."
Chapter 11: Morning Regrets
Sarah jammed the pillow over her head, but she could still hear noise. Her cotton brain finally recognized the sound as knocking. "Go away," she mumbled. The knocking stopped and she sighed with relief. She heard the door squeak and squinted to look at it. Julie peeked around the edge.
"Are you feeling okay, Sarah?" the girl timidly asked.
Sarah's mind tried to get a grasp on reality. "What day is it?"
"Sunday."
"What time?"
"Almost noon."
Sarah jolted upright. She never slept late. The movement sent her head whipping like a roller coaster. "Ouch." She pressed her palms to her temples and fell back against her pillow. "Am I sick," she asked.
Julie laughed, "Not unless you consider a hangover sick."
A hangover! Suddenly, the previous night tumbled into remembrance—steak dinner, bucking bull, sawdust covered dance floor, live country band, beer… She groaned and turned her face into her pillow again. What kind of example was she setting for this impressionable girl? Another memory surfaced and her eyes popped wide open. Please, God, let it be a dream. In her mind's eye, she envisioned passionate kisses on the porch, hands and mouths in erotic zones, and Sage's face. She covered her face with her hands.
"My dad said you'd probably be a little upset when you woke up. He didn't tell me why. Can I get you anything?"
Sarah shook her head, not lifting her hands from her face. "I'm fine, Julie," she lied and mumbled behind her palms.
"Dad said I should give you some orange juice."
Sarah peeked through her fingers and noticed the glass in Julie's hand. She croaked, "Please, set it on the nightstand. Thank you. I need some time…to get dressed." She'd been about to say "alone," but didn't want to hurt Julie's feelings.
Julie seemed to understand. "Okay. I'll check on you later."
Sarah heard the door close and blinked rapidly to cap a gush of tears threatening to erupt like a geyser. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. A loner slipped through her resolve and she swiped at it. Sniffing, she gingerly moved her legs over the side of the bed and grasped her spinning head. I will never drink beer again.
Holding onto furniture, she grappled her way to the bathroom and sat on the side of the tub, removing the wrapping from her foot. Thank God she was still wearing last night's outfit—minus her vest and boot, however. The hot shower seemed to help her massive headache.
At issue now was how to leave the ranch without facing Sage. She didn't want to hurt Julie by abruptly flying the coop, but her desire to avoid Sage outweighed even that resolve. Her stay at Lazy M Dude Ranch had forever cured her of hands-on research. From now on, research would take her only as far as her laptop and the internet.
She returned to the bedroom and tentatively sipped her orange juice. It stayed down. Feeling strong enough to get dressed, she pulled on a pair of turquoise slacks and matching shell. While she was sitting on the bed attempting to rewrap her foot, she heard another knock. Thinking it was Julie, she called, "Come in."
Sage opened the door. Sarah glanced up from fastening the hook on the wrap and almost fell on the floor. He started toward her and she jerked a staying hand at him. He stopped.
Her mouth moved, but no words came out.
He said, "How are you feeling?"
She still couldn't find her voice.
He glanced at the glass of orange juice she'd set back on the nightstand. "The juice will help."
Sarah knew he was saying anything to fill the awkwardness. "I'm leaving," she finally voiced.
Sage leaned against the door frame. "You mean running, don't you?"
She gaped at him and then resorted to a teenage response, "Whatever."
"You know, Sarah, nothing happened. It was only a little kiss."
She remembered the expertise of his mouth. Yeah, right.
He continued, "Look, I'll make a deal with you because I'd hate for you to miss the wagon train next week and all that great research…I'll move you to the dorm today. That way you won't have to be around me as much." Again, he paused. "Sarah, I'm really sorry. I never get involved with my guests. I take full responsibility. You were a little…imbibed…and appealing. I lost my head."
Sarah honed in on one word—appealing. He thought she was appealing. What a crock. Now she was even more determined to leave and her face must have mirrored her resolve.