House of Payne: Sage

by Stacy Gail

  “Netflix and chill?” That toothy smile was still in place as he looked toward her sister, who had also climbed out of the car, a couple sacks of Chinese takeaway in hand. “Who’s your gal pal? She gonna Netflix and chill with you?”

  “This is my sister, Serena.” Irritated, Mads hauled her backpack up on her shoulder and headed determinedly toward the path leading to her townhome, wishing she could just walk around him. Sadly she couldn’t, as she was between two cars, with Zane right in front of her on the curb. “Have a nice run. Come on, Rena.”

  “Actually, my run can wait until later this afternoon.” As she stepped up on the curb where he stood, he caught her arm and tugged her close. “Why don’t you and your sister invite me to your Netflix party?”

  In a heartbeat, she yanked her arm from his hold. “Just go on your run, all right? And do me a favor—never touch me again, because you don’t have a green light for that.”

  Like a child who’d been told not to touch a hot stove, Zane immediately reached for her arm again. “Why the hell are you being so unfriendly, neighbor? It’s not like your boyfriend’s going to know—”

  “Do not fucking touch her, you piece of shit.”

  “Whoa,” Mads heard her sister breathe as all three turned toward the masculine voice full of barely leashed violence. Like an oncoming storm, Sage stalked toward them across the parking lot, gloved hands fisted and the promise of murder in his scowl. His long-legged stride ate up the ground at an eye-popping rate, and she didn’t blame Zane one bit for dropping her arm so he could backpedal toward his townhome.

  “Hey, dude, it’s cool, all right?” Practically running backwards, Zane held both hands up, palms out. “I didn’t touch her. I didn’t come near her. I didn’t—”

  “You two get inside.” Sage didn’t look Mads’s way as he barked the order. He seemed too intent on trying to obliterate Zane off the face of the earth with the strength of his glare alone. “I’ll be with you in a few, but first I’ve got to teach Zane here a few manners.”

  “Try not to kill him,” Mads managed, trying to sound breezy and not totally freaked out by his sudden appearance, when in fact she was freaking out hardcore. Not sure if she should stay in order to protect Zane from major damage, her sister decided what happened next when she took her hand and practically sprinted to the townhome.

  “Oh my gosh, that guy means business.” The moment they entered her small foyer, Serena dropped the Chinese takeout bags and sagged against the wall, panting like she’d run a marathon. “That guy… omigod, that’s Sage, isn’t it? The scary, scowly guy I looked up online? His photo doesn’t even come close to doing him justice. He’s absolutely terrifying in real life.”

  “No, he’s not.” With her own heart hammering away as if it were trying to get out, Mads slumped back against the wall next to her sister. “Sage isn’t scary at all. He’s just… intense.”

  “That’s one word for it. What the hell is he doing here?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “How did he even have the passcode to get in through the front gate? Wait, don’t tell me,” Rena gasped, and she turned shocked eyes on Mads. “You gave it to him, didn’t you? Does he have a key to your place as well?”

  “For crying out loud, Rena, I barely know the man.”

  “That’s not the impression I just got. The impression I got was that Mr. Scowly Pants is seriously territorial when it comes to other men touching what he sees as his. And by that, I mean you.”

  Mads couldn’t have been more flabbergasted if Rena had said she was Queen of Atlantis. “Are you high? I repeat, I barely know the man.”

  “Then why did he act that way just now? I swear, I thought your Sage was going to tear that guy limb from limb.”

  Mads opened her mouth to insist Sage wasn’t hers when an abrupt, anger-filled knock sounded on her front door. She jumped before moving to peer through the peephole. A second later she hauled the door open to allow Sage to steam through at top speed.

  “That asshole so much as glances your way again and I’m not around to protect you, call the police,” he said by way of greeting, not coming to a halt until he was in the middle of her living room. Still looking like his favorite hobby was bare-handed homicide, he turned and glowered at them while they stared at him, wide-eyed. “You know what pisses me off, even more than that shitheel who lives across from you? Neither one of you screamed or yelled when he made a grab for you, Daniels. Explain that.”

  What the actual hell. “First, allow me to introduce my big sister, Serena. Rena, this is my coworker from House Of Payne, Sage. Secondly, why would either of us scream when we were neither scared nor under attack? The only person around here who’s acting scary at the moment is you.”

  “Me?” He looked at her as though she were speaking in a foreign language before dragging both hands through his hair. If he’d torn it out by the roots she wouldn’t have been surprised. “I don’t grab women after trapping them between fucking cars in a parking lot, woman. I don’t keep grabbing at them when they obviously don’t want to be held on to. If that shit ever happens again, either with that assclown or anyone else, you immediately start in with the screams for help, you got that? Men are fucking animals that get twisted kicks out of making women cry and bleed and beg for their goddamn lives. You need to treat them all like the rabid motherfuckers they are.”

  Her eyes were now so wide it was a wonder they didn’t pop out of their sockets. Good grief, where was this coming from? “Even you?”

  “I told you, I don’t grab women. But I definitely turn into a rabid sonofabitch when I see another man pull that shit. You’re so damn oblivious, you think that kind of nightmare can never happen to you, but it can. And it most likely will if you don’t wake the fuck up and see you’re just a helpless little snack to all the predators of the world.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly, wishing she could somehow soothe the rage she could feel emanating from him like blasts of heat. “I’ll definitely keep my guard up, especially around Zane the pain. Okay?”

  “If that asshole has any sense, he’ll steer clear of you from now on. I doubt he’s going to want to have another run-in with me when it comes to you, or anyone else around you,” he added, nodding Serena’s way. “Serena, right? If you ever see a man grab your sister like that, hit him with whatever you’re holding, got that?”

  “At the time all I was holding was food.” She bent to retrieve the plastic bags, then held them aloft so he could see. “Mads worked up a big appetite doing caricatures over at the pediatric ward where I work, so after we were done there we stopped off for some comfort food. Want to join us for lunch?”

  “I’m good, thanks,” Sage said, his mouth twitching, and inwardly Mads relaxed. If he could come close to smiling, the storm she’d sensed raging inside him was clearly on its way out. “What’s this about caricatures?”

  “Rena’s a nurse over at County,” Mads explained, not sure why her face heated when he looked her way. There was just something about the sharp interest in his eyes that made her feel like she was the only person on the planet who could manage to hold all his attention. “It sucks to be in the hospital around Christmastime for anyone, but it’s really hard on the kids. So for the past couple years I’ve gone down to her place of work to draw caricatures of the kiddos. Usually I do depictions of them doing something much happier than being in a hospital bed—ballet or water-skiing, or whatever. Today, one of the kids asked me to draw a picture of her as a superhero. Eventually, even the saddest child there winds up giggling about what they imagine themselves to be, and… I don’t know.” She shrugged, wishing he’d stop looking at her so intently. “It’s just nice that I can give them the gift of helping them forget they’re sick and in the hospital, even if it’s only for a little while.”

  “I’m going the next time you go,” he announced, shocking her into a full-on jaw drop. “I’m the portrait specialist of the House, and caricatures are totally my thing. We’ll t
ake some temporary tattoos along as well because kids need Christmas presents. We’ll make it an art-filled day.”

  “Uh, I’m not sure you can just invite yourself to do that kind of thing.” She shot her sister a questioning glance. “Wouldn’t you have to clear a visit like that with your bosses?”

  Rena nodded. “Though I don’t see why they wouldn’t be okay with having two artists there instead of just one, especially this time of year. I’ll talk to my supervisor about it the next time I see her.”

  Sage gave a decisive nod. “Cool. In the meantime, I’d better get going. I just dropped by to make sure you’ve filled out that entry form for the auction. You are going to do it, right?”

  Mads popped a thumbs-up. “All I need to do now is figure out what I’m going to donate.”

  “Do a still life of our lunch,” Rena suggested, heading toward the dining table in the open-plan living area, pausing just long enough to turn on the Christmas tree lights. “You can’t go wrong with egg rolls and crab Rangoon, kung pao chicken and veggie lo mein.”

  “Chinese food?” At that, the upward tilt of Sage’s mouth grew into a full-blown smile as he turned to look at Mads. “You’ve got a thing for Asian cuisine?”

  “I just wanted to practice with chopsticks. You know, for the next time we have a meeting at Noodleheads.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Skittish.” He closed the distance between them, and that smile of his seemed to get hotter the closer he got. His head dipped so low his breath caressed her lips, and she thought for one heart-stopping moment that he was going to kiss her. “That wasn’t a meeting. That was our first date. Enjoy your lunch.”

  With that, he let himself out while she stood there trying to cope with the rush of adrenaline his near-kiss gave her, along with the crushing disappointment that it had been just that.

  A near-kiss.

  Just like that other barely-there kiss, it left her grinding her teeth in frustration.

  That had to stop.

  What had to stop, though, was the real question. Either her frustration, or his sexually charged teasing. And there was only one way to bring both to an end.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m so glad you’ve decided to offer one of your art pieces for our charity auction, Mads.” Pouring coffee into a mug with the House Of Payne logo on it, Scout handed it to Mads. She then poured herself a mug, doctored it up with sweetener, then headed for the chair behind her neat glass and chrome-accented desk. “Any hint what it’s going to be?”

  “I’ll let you know when it’s done.” Since she hadn’t yet started it, hints were beyond her, Mads thought wryly as she stirred creamer into her coffee. “But since the auction is a little over three weeks away, I’m obviously not going to do anything in, say, oils.”

  “But you are thinking of a painting?”

  “That’s what I put on the entry form. One painting of original artwork, signed, and donated by me, the least-known of your tattooists. I’m bringing my sister along so I’ll know someone will bid at least twenty bucks for it.”

  “Is that why you were so reluctant to be a part of the auction?” Scout asked, gesturing for her to take a seat in the Tiffany-blue slipper chair across from her, the same shade of blue that was found in subtle accents all over the tranquil, white-on-white office. “You didn’t think you’d be a big draw?”

  “Partly.” With no other choice but to sit, Mads took a sip of coffee and took a moment to savor that special moment when the coffee touched her soul. “I still can’t believe I’m really here. I never imagined I’d wind up working at House Of Payne.”

  “You’re an incredible artist, Mads. I hope you know that we feel lucky to have you on the team.”

  Considering her complicated family background, the last thing she felt was lucky. “Thank you for saying so.”

  “What’s more, we want to make sure we keep you here, so it’s my job to check in with you every now and again to make sure you’re happy with your workload and your fellow employees,” Scout went on, sipping her coffee. “Do you feel like you’re finally starting to settle in here at the House?”

  “Sure.” Not sure where this was going, Mads felt her guard sneaking back up without fully knowing why. She wasn’t behind enemy lines, she tried reminding herself while her fingers clutched her mug tighter. This was just average shoptalk. “Everyone’s been great.”

  “Even Sage, the cookie thief? He told me you had plans of putting cookies in the breakroom for everyone,” she explained when Mads frowned her bewilderment. “Even though he sucked them all up for himself, I just wanted to thank you for the thought.”

  “I actually brought some more cookies from home to put in the breakroom today.” She touched her backpack and gave the other woman a smile. “Getting to know Sage has kind of been an eye-opener for me. Come to find out, the world didn’t come to an end just because I spoke to a coworker. I thought I’d push my luck and get to know everyone else.”

  “Why would talking to anyone here at the House make you feel like the world would end?”

  Crap. “My people skills suck,” she managed, horrified. How could she forget no one knew of her connection to a tattooist Payne had once screwed over? She was such an idiot. “Generally speaking, I’ve discovered life is a lot simpler if you don’t get involved with the people around you.”

  “That may be, but it’s also a lot lonelier. The people in your life make that life worth living.”

  “Yeah, but taking that first step is always a gamble. Letting people in for that up-close-and-personal thing has never been my forte.”

  “Yeah, well, cookies are a great first step,” Scout approved with a faint smile. “I’m partial to coconut macaroons, by the way. Just saying.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else you’d like to add to that order?”

  “Just a reminder that you’re your own person, Mads,” came the surprisingly earnest response. “I know we all come from somewhere else, which means we all have baggage and backstories that shape us into the people we are today. But you’re not a slave to whatever happened before you landed here. Your past is just that—the past. You can choose to be whoever you want to be, and you can choose to look at this place as your new home. We might be a crazy bunch, and half the time I never know what I’m going to find when I walk in here, but we can be a kind of family once you get to know us. All you have to do is just give us a chance.”

  Family. That was the main problem when it came to her working at the House. “I’ll give it some thought. In the meantime,” she added, reaching for her backpack to fish out the plastic container of cookies, “there are a few macaroons packed up in this cookie assortment. Want to nab them before I drop this off in the breakroom?”

  Scout’s eyes lit up. “You don’t have to ask me twice, girlfriend. Fork those babies over.”

  Mads was still smiling by the time she left Scout’s office and headed toward House Of Payne’s breakroom located on the mezzanine level, across from the frosted glass tattoo booths. The breakroom door was covered in graffiti, telling people to “Keep Out” in a rainbow of colors and styles. The breakroom’s white walls inside were similarly covered, thanks to the tattooists who had been encouraged to put their personal marks there. A mishmash of throw rugs littered the floor, which went surprisingly well with the mismatched chairs pulled up to a long banquet table in the center of the room. Other chairs, most of them overstuffed armchairs in every color and style imaginable, were scattered around the rim of the room. A few of those chairs were filled with her coworkers, while a raven-haired man with a close-cropped beard stood at the counter on the far end of the room, obviously waiting for the microwave to finish heating up his food. She thought his name started with a T, and she knew the woman seated at the banquet table was named Sunny, the assistant manager that kept House Of Payne running like a well-oiled machine. But she couldn’t remember the name of the surfer-dude blonde tattooist Sunny sat with, though she thought he m
ight be Sunny’s husband.

  Yeesh.

  This could get embarrassing fast. She’d worked there for freaking months, yet she was rock-solid on only one name in that entire room.

  Not good.

  Maybe she shouldn’t go inside when there were so many people she didn’t know—

  “In or out, Skittish.” A familiar male voice rumbled in her ear, making her jump so hard it almost became an out-of-body experience. “You’re blocking the door.”

  Hastily she glanced over her shoulder at Sage, and her heart decided to flip-flop several times over when she saw how close his face was to hers. “Shit, sorry. I was just—”

  “Going in.” With that, he put a hand between her shoulder blades and gave her a push, jettisoning her into the room, with him following close behind. “Don’t tell me you brought your dinner in this time around. I was thinking we could give Noodleheads another try. Or if you’ve had it with chopsticks, I guess we could try the diner. Though between you and me, I’m still not convinced people don’t die of ptomaine poisoning on a regular basis over there.”

  “The Mad Cow has good food.” The bearded man at the microwave said, his darker-than-dark eyes cutting their way. “Or at least, it has food that hasn’t killed me yet.”

  Sage glanced at the man and snorted. “Not exactly what I’d call a ringing endorsement, dude.”

  “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” His expression was so fierce and unsmiling, Mads thought at first she must have imagined it when he tipped her a wink. “There’s no greater aphrodisiac than defying death, which is basically what you do when you eat at a place called Mad Cow. That’s the attraction, am I right, Mads?”

  Holy crap, he knew her name while she was totally derping on his. “That’s certainly one way to look at it.” Whoever you are.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Talon, Mads.” Sage slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her flush up against his side, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that gesture looked as proprietary as it felt. “The more you get to know him, the more you realize he’s the IRL version of a shit-poster.”