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Sage shook her head gently, stepping close enough that her soft, full breasts brushed his flannel-covered chest. “It’s fine, baby. Whenever you’re ready.”

Then those hungry eyes flicked up to him again, dark and glittering. She rose onto her toes, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “But you’re not getting out of this. Twenty minutes, Mr. Meridian, and then one of my holes better be full. You can pick which one.”

Cal stared at her in pure disbelief, mouth slightly open.

“Yup. She’s going to kill me. I know this,” he whispered, half-laughing, half-groaning as he followed her curvy sway toward the door. Her thick hips rolled with every step, that snug black sweater and those leggings doing nothing to hide how badly she wanted him.

Now, in the golden hush of sunrise, Cal gripped the thick cedar railing, knuckles whitening for just a moment. The snow-covered ridges blazed amber and rose beneath the breaking sun, but the warmth on his face felt almost unforgiving. He exhaled slowly, the hot chocolate long gone, steam from his breath curling into the pine-scented cold. Brutus stirred at his feet with a sleepy huff.

“Soon,” Cal muttered, voice rough. “God help me. I’m gonna tell her.”

He turned away from the blazing horizon, boots quiet on the frost-dusted planks, and walked back inside the cabin. The heavy door clicked shut behind him, sealing in the scent of cedar, coffee, and the faint trace of Sage still warm in their sheets upstairs.

36

SAGE

It was the day before New Year’s Eve, and Sage was in heaven.

Mary Sue’s diner at one in the afternoon was a glorious war zone. Christmas garlands still dripped from the ceiling like stubborn holiday rebels—Annie had threatened three separate times to rip them down, and Mary Sue had threatened her right back with a wooden spoon. The front windows were fogged at the bottom from the clashing temperatures: thick, savory warmth inside meeting the lazy snowfall outside. The lunch rush clattered and sang—forks scraping plates, Willie Nelson’s warm twang rolling from the jukebox, old men at the counter arguing over the price of feed. The air smelled like heaven itself: slow-cooked meatloaf, fresh coffee, and the deep, buttery embrace of Mary Sue’s famous rolls straight from the oven, still steaming and glossy with melted butter.

They slid into their booth by the window. Annie didn’t even ask. Mary Sue refilled Sage’s hot chocolate with that knowing little smile and kept walking.

Sage was wedged tight against Cal’s side, his big arm a heavy, living weight across her shoulders. His other hand rested high on her thigh under the table, thumb tracing slow, distracted circles through the soft fabric of her leggings. Every pass sent little sparks racing straight to her core. She kept biting her lip, willing that thumb to drift higher, just a little to the left…

Getting diddled in a booth during lunch would be bad, right?

He wore his black flannel and that worn leather trench coat that smelled like him—pine, saddle leather, and clean male warmth. His Stetson hung on the hook by the booth. That boyish grin of his made her stomach flip.

But is it really that bad? she thought, parting her thighs slowly under the table, hoping he’d take the hint.

Nope. Completely oblivious. She let out a tiny, frustrated sigh.

Annie was on her break, leaning against the edge of the table in her diner uniform, three coffee mugs lined up like soldiers while she told a story about Tommy that had the whole table howling. Hallie Peters had swept in from the shop with a small wrapped gift for Sage—“Just a little something, baby, don’t open it now”—and was now laughing so hard she made no sound at all. Dr. Rowan Hale sat across from them, stethoscope still draped around her neck, half a turkey sandwich on her plate and the faintest, softest smile playing on her lips.

She’d come in alone, looking a little lonely, until Sage had pulled her over, Rowan protesting half heartedly and then giving in, smiling.

“I could use the company,” Sage said, and smiled. She linked her arm through Rowan’s and led her back to the table, where Cal had already stood to greet her.

“Hello Bear. Need stitches from any grizzly fights today?” Rowan had asked with a very faint smile.

Cal had grunted ready to say no, but Sage started to do the grunting mountain man bit which of course made Cal laugh uproariously and the entire diner paused alarmed as they watched Cal Meridian lose it. Annie, Hallie, Mary Sue, and Dr. Rowan had looked shocked. Annie recovered first, demanding to know what was so funny.

Sage had explained that Cal did this whole grunting thing to communicate, while Cal protested good-naturedly that he had not taken a course from Mountain Man University: Year One — Foundational Grunting.

When he tried to deny it, Annie and Mary Sue said at the exact same time, “yes you do!” Everyone had laughed and now here they were in the full booth.

”And so I’m standing in the laundry room,” Annie was saying, “and I’m holding the boots, and the boots are full of —”

“Annie!” Mary Sue’s voice from the counter.

“What? I’m telling a story —”

“It’s lunch hour, Annie Townsend.”

“It’s okay, they were full of gravy, Mama!”

The whole table broke into laughter. Hallie made a sound that was not human. Mary Sue rolled her eyes hard enough that Sage could see it from across the diner. Cal was laughing the soft rumbling laugh that Sage felt in her own ribs before she heard it.