Page 34 of Reckless

“It sounds like a bacterial infection.”

I fight back my laugh. I don’t know what it is about Sage’s humor, but she always manages to make me want to laugh. “I don’t think Millie is selling those.”

“You sure? She’d make a killing. I hear bacterial infections can be quite lethal… see what I did there?” she says, grinning at me like she’s just told the funniest joke.

I shake my head. “Just the pastries, as far as I am aware.”

She scowls. “Damn! Thought Millie was totally the type to be a closet killer. Free botulism with your brownies, salmonella in your sandwich… the full catering package.”

“You’re trying real hard to get taken off the Christmas card list.”

She widens her eyes playfully. “I prefer Halloween anyway!” She grins, grabs a coffee with that beautiful smile of hers, then holds up another. “Coffee?” When I shake my head, she gestures for me to join her at the table. I can’t help smiling back as I take the seat opposite her.

This fucking woman!

“So, tell me more about today,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips.

I tell her about Millie, the line out the door, Anchor pretending he hadn’t been worried, and how the bakery slowly filled until there wasn’t an empty chair left. I don’t tell her that half the club probably only went because she’d asked.

By the time I finish, something in her shoulders has eased.

The tension she’d been carrying when she opened the door has loosened enough that she finally leans against the table instead of holding herself upright by force of habit.

“I hate that I missed it.”

I wince. “I know.”

She slumps her shoulders. “I kept checking the time all morning.”

“I know.”

She looks across at the flowers again. “They’re going to make Penny unbearable.”

“They already have.”

She laughs, soft enough that it barely carries past the kitchen. “Thank you.”

She isn’t thanking me for the flowers. They’re just proof. She’s thanking me for remembering, for understanding.

“You would’ve done the same.”

She looks at me over the top of the bouquet. “No, I would’ve texted Millie and told myself that counted.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not even close.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. “Good to know.”

“Now you do.”

The conversation fades without feeling unfinished.

Sage brushes her fingertips over one of the stems, nudging it a fraction before looking back down at the bouquet.

Penny didn’t leave anything to fix. And Sage isn’t fixing it. She’s just looking for another excuse to touch them.

I don’t point it out.