Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Sage

"Almost done, honeybun!" I sing-song. "Whaddya think?"

Viv studies our progress on the book nook. After a long moment's consideration, she asks, "Can I use the drill?"

"Oh, well…" I have no objection to showing a gal how to use power tools… Personally, I think the world would be better if more ladies knew how to do things like that, instead of counting on a man to do all the home projects. Case in point: If Molly left this project in Noah's hands, it'd never get done. At least, not until after his retirement.

Viv is still waiting for an answer, so I say, "You gotta ask your mom."

The girl cocks her head to one side. "Mommy, can I use the drill?"

Molly fidgets with the end of her braid. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable teaching you. But if Sage is okay with it, she can show you. As long as you follow her instructions. I don't want you getting hurt."

Viv swivels her head back to me. She's at that stage where she's almost as tall as Molly but still looks all string-beany and stretched like her bones are growing faster than the rest of her. She's testing her boundaries, too, experimenting with the rules and limitations associated with childhood squared off against the fact that she's almost grown… or at least, getting there.

"Well," I announce, "today's your lucky day. I've got a whole darn social media brand dedicated to self-sufficiency. But first things first… you're gonna need some eye protection." I produce a pair of scratched-up safety goggles from the toolkit. Fortunately, Molly's pretty small, so while the glasses are a bit too big for Viv's head, they're not too bad.

She wrinkles her nose and takes the glasses between her thumb and forefinger. "How come you don't have to wear them?"

"Cuz I'm an adult, and if I poke my eye out, it's my own problem. If you poke your eye out, Molly's gonna kick my ass all the way back to Montana."

"You swore!" Although her words are an accusation, her expression is one of sheer delight.

"I've met Latham," I tell her. "I'm pretty sure you've heard worse. Now, get that PPE in place, and let's get to it."

I show Viv how to put up shelving for the next hour or so, making sure to drill in the number one message my daddy taught me: measure twice, cut once.

"Same thing goes for drilling and checking your levels," I add. "Otherwise, you'll end up with a wall full of holes or crooked shelves, and neither of those things is gonna impress anybody."

Molly watches with just as much interest as Viv.

"Is it done?" Viv asks when the last shelf is in place.

I scoff. "Does it look done?"

She hesitates. "Um…"

"Heck, no, we've gotta get the finishing touches on there. Right now, it's bare wood! We need paint, hardware, cushions, lights…"

Viv's eyes widen with each item I list off. "Ooh, it's gonna be fancy!"

"Of course it is." I nudge her with my elbow. "We don't do things halfway. Maybe we can get the first coat of paint on before I head out."

Viv bounces on her toes. "I wanna help!"

"That's what I like to hear," I tell her.

Molly's phone buzzes, and she checks her messages. "Sorry, but we're done for the day."

Viv lets out a wordless whine and squirms in dismay. "But, Mooooommmyyyy…"

"You know how I feel about that tone," Molly says. "And Sage'll be back to show us what to do next, but tonight, she has plans."

"I do?" I ask. This is news to me.

"You do." She drops her phone back into her pocket and crosses her arms. "Sage, do you have a little black dress?"

I shake my head. "Not with me."

"Do you have any dresses?"

"I have a couple of sundresses."

"Not gonna cut it. You're, what, a size eight?"

"How'd you know?"

"And shoes… what, like an eight?"

"Yeah…"

"Give me a minute. You should go wash up in my bathroom." She points me to the upstairs bathroom without a word of explanation.

I turn to Viv in search of some solidarity since, just a minute ago, she and I were on the same page. Alas, I find no sympathy in her gaze, only wild delight. "Are we giving Sage a makeover?"

Molly grins. They have the audacity to high-five in front of me.

Suddenly, I miss Flossie. She'd be all in on their plan, whatever it is. I wish she could be here and meet these gals. They'd get along like a house afire.

I head to the washroom, only to hear the downstairs doorbell a minute later. Soon, Molly comes upstairs with Toni in tow. She's carrying a dress. Behind her, Layla has a pair of shoes under each arm. Viv hovers behind them, watching the whole exchange unfold.

"I wasn't sure which would look best," Layla frets.

"I've got shoes," I argue.

All four of them look down at my pink cowgirl boots. I can feel the judgment.

"They're comfy," I whine.

"And there's nothing wrong with them for everyday wear," Layla says with the utmost diplomacy. "But tonight, we're sprucing you up a little."

I point to the pair of heels Layla brought. "I don't know how to walk in these things!"

"I'll show you!" Viv cries. Her feet are a little small, but sure enough, she can walk in heels like a pro. I try them on just to experiment and almost break my neck when one heel snags on the carpet.

"Wedges it is," Toni says, and the rest nod their agreement. "Your legs will still look amazing, but they're way easier to deal with." In their midst, I feel like a cauldron surrounded by three witches, waiting for different ingredients to be foisted upon me: eye of newt, high of heel, dress both tight and black…

Toni is holding the dress up to eyeball it when the downstairs door opens again. Scarlett calls out from below, "Did I hear Sage needs makeup?"

"You're kidding," I grumble.

"I never joke about makeup." Scarlett jogs up the stairs. She's not alone.

"I'm here for the hair!" Delilah exclaims. She circles me like a lion around a gazelle, clipping a curling iron open and shut. "Oh my Lord. Hair up. No way will he resist kissing that neck."

"Don't you think this is a little much?" I ask.

"No," they chorus. And then they get to work.

* * *

I don't recognize myself in the mirror. I mean, it's me. It's not like they gave me a whole new face or anything. But I don't think I've ever been this primped and polished before in my life.

"Is this really necessary?" I ask, thinking back to all my attempts to impress Trevor, before he revealed his true colors. Even when I looked my very best, he never looked at me the way Bash does when I'm wearing boots without a lick of makeup. "I just want Bash to like me for me."

"He does," Layla says. "It's so obvious. But getting dressed up can be a special treat. For both of you. It's, like, an added bonus."

"The cherry on top," Toni agrees.

I don't know what Bash will think, but I do like what I see. True to her promise, Delilah pinned my hair up in the sides and gathered it into a sort of braided bun, letting the rest fall in loose curls down my back. The dress has a heart-shaped neckline and lace cap sleeves. The skirt falls just shy of my knees, with layers that give it volume and shape. Scarlett went light with the makeup, relying mostly on subtle contouring that makes my cheekbones pop without obscuring my freckles.

"I still wish you'd wear the stilettos," Layla says. "You have killer legs…"

"I'd rather live, thanks." I wiggle my toes inside my borrowed wedges. They're a smidge tight, but at least I won't twist an ankle walking in them.

As I step away from the mirror, the gratitude swelling in my chest is almost overwhelming. "Seriously. Thank you. This is, um. Nobody's ever done anything quite like this for me."

Each word is steeped in sincerity; these women, who were once strangers and now confidants, have given me a taste of something precious—unconditional friendship and support. It's a revelation, the way they've rallied around me, weaving their kindness into the fabric of my days here. I know I'll treasure them forever, these incredible ladies who've made Vegas shine brighter.

Flossie's been there through thick and thin, but she's not the girly type, and neither am I. This is how city girls must feel before prom—an event Flossie and I ditched since we knew all thirty-five guys in our graduating class, and it would be a cold day in hell before we slow-danced with any of them. Getting ready for a not-so-surprise date with a guy I actually like, after getting all gussied up by my new friends? It's something special.

"Don't cry!" Scarlett waves a hand in front of my face as if to dry my tears before they gather. "I'll have to redo it all, and there's no time."

I sniff and tilt my head back. "Okay, cool, how long do I have—?"

We group together for a selfie with Delilah's phone and then laugh as she tries to figure out how to forward it to all of us in a group chat.

The doorbell rings.

All around me, the ladies scatter. Scarlett and Molly bolt for the stairs to stall Bash, Layla gathers up the clothes I changed out of and hides them in the unfinished book nook for me to retrieve later, and the rest give me last-minute tips on what to do if a pin falls out of my hair.

"What about my phone?" I ask.

"Purse!" Delilah cries. "She needs a purse!"

"I've got one!" Viv bolts for her room and returns a moment later with a cute, silver over-the-shoulder bag.

"You're a lifesaver, kiddo." I high-five her before heading for the stairs.

Bash is waiting by the front door, holding a bouquet of pink carnations, dahlias, and black-eyed susans.

"Not roses?" Molly asks in a low voice.

"Roses are so…" Bash waves one hand. "Expected. Everyone gets roses. These flowers, they mean love and affection just like a rose, but they are more special. Like Sage. Besides, black-eyed susans are native plants. Wild. Self-seeding. Does that remind you of anyone?"

"Okay," Scarlett says, "that's… actually pretty romantic. I approve."

"So do I," I say.

They turn to me, and Bash's expression is a journey through surprise, delight, admiration, and affection. A girl could get used to a fella looking at her like that.

"Sage," he says, his voice dropping lower than before, "look at you. You're stunning."

"You clean up pretty nice yourself." He's wearing a black suit. What is it about black? Bash's is particularly nice. It might look too formal if he hadn't left the top few buttons of his shirt undone. I swear, I want to lick his collarbone. I might have done it right then and there if we didn't have an audience, including a literal child.

Bash hands me the bouquet and kisses my cheek. I don't really know what to do with these flowers—do I carry them to dinner?—but as usual, one of the ladies comes to my rescue, spiriting them away to be placed in a vase that will, no doubt, end up back in Bash's house before the end of the night.

Our house.

Not that I live there, not that I'm staying, but I'm getting awfully comfortable. I try not to think about leaving as I loop my arm through Bash's and let him lead me out to the limo that's waiting in the street.

* * *

The restaurant Bash takes me to is so nice that it makes me nervous. I'm positive that I'm going to spill something, knock something over, or simply be recognized as a Hicksville fraud who doesn't belong here.

"Are you all right?" Bash asks.

I nod, taking great care to spear a single stalk of asparagus on my fork without letting the tines strike the plate and make a noise. "I'm great. This place is so… upscale."

Bash looks around and nods as if he never noticed how fancy the restaurant is. His relative indifference to wealth makes my stomach clench… it's an unwelcome reminder that we're from two different worlds. I'm worried about losing my ranch, and Bash is dropping God-knows-how-much on a single dinner date.

It's thoughtful. But this isn't my world.

"This is one of Dante's restaurants," he says.

I almost choke on my asparagus. "Dante? The guy you work for?"

"He owns the team. And the casino." Bash wrinkles his nose. "I don't ask where he made his money. Better not to know. There are theories, though."

Well, shit, if Dante's got that kind of cash, I guess I can stop feeling guilty about how he's footing the bill for my van.

I take a swig of water and finally stop coughing. "What are yours?"

Bash gives me a wry smile. "Are you asking me what corporations I own?"

I cut my pork medallion into pieces. "I meant your theories about Dante, but if you've got corporations I don't know about…"

"Hardly!" Bash grins. "As for Dante, I don't know if we should talk about it here." He lowers his voice and looks around, then adds in a stage whisper, "He has eyes everywhere."

"Fair enough." I take a bite of pork. The meat is so tender and perfectly seasoned that it practically melts on my tongue. I groan in pleasure.

Bash's eyes widen at the sound.

"Sorry." I dab my mouth with my napkin.

"Don't apologize." He leans closer to me. In the mood lighting of the modified wine cellar, he looks like a picture from somebody's very sexy dreams. Mine, specifically. "You look so beautiful tonight that's pretty much all I'm thinking about."

"Really? You like the dress?" Maybe I should get one of my own.

Bash nods. "It's perfect. I can't wait to see it on my floor later tonight."

Hell and a half. I'm getting ten of them.

After Bash settles the bill, we get our dessert to go and hurry up the stairs to the ground floor. As much as I gawked at the decor on the way in, I'm not paying attention to anything but Bash now… an indication that, maybe, his failure to acknowledge the lavish decorations earlier says more about the company than I gave him credit for.

We tumble into the limo, although I'm careful to set our bag of desserts safely off to the side before climbing on Bash's lap and straddling him.

My skirt rides all the way up my thighs, and Bash's fingers soon find their way into the wet heat at their apex. He tugs the waterfall of curls at the back of my neck. Bobby pins fly in every direction.

"So lovely." He hums against my throat. Kisses my neck. Presses one finger into me right there in the back seat.

Looks like Delilah was onto something when she mentioned my neck.

"Bash—" I whimper, nodding toward the windows. The driver can't see us, but Vegas is on the other side of the glass. I can see passengers in the cars around us.

"Tinted windows," he reminds me. He adds a second finger. Drags his thumb across my clit. Nips at my throat just hard enough to make me squeal.

I can see them, even though they can't see me. That shouldn't turn me on, but it does. I rock against Bash, trying to turn him on as much as I'm turned on, trying to find the perfect angle.

He looks up at me from under surprisingly long, dark lashes. "Oh, you naughty girl," he growls. "You like that, don't you?"

I nod. Words are overrated. I'm so fucking close.

He removes his hand and fumbles with his belt. Then freezes. "Shit, I don't have a condom…"

"I'm on the pill," I tell him. No way in hell was I going to risk getting knocked up with Trent, contract or no contract. Plus, it helps regulate my cycle. Win-win.

Still, Bash hesitates. "Are you saying…?"

Words are still out of my pay grade, so I take the lead, guiding him into me. His breath hitches. Shudders. He wraps his arms around me. Bucks his hips. Then, just as quickly as I'm gloriously full, I'm empty again.

Bash nips at my lips. "Not yet."

I can feel the rumble of the engine beneath us as Bash's hands grip my waist tightly, pulling me closer to him. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he slides down in the seat and lifts me upward so that I'm now hovering over his face, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. After lowering my body, his tongue explores every inch of me, teasing and tasting until I can't hold back anymore.

"Sage, you taste so damn good. That's it, sweet girl. Ride my face until you come."

I arch my back, my fingers gripping the leather seat as he drives me to the edge of ecstasy. The pleasure builds and builds, each flick of his tongue pushing me closer and closer to the brink. And then it hits me like a tidal wave, my whole body trembling with the force of my release.

He continues to lick and suck at me, savoring the aftertaste of my orgasm. I collapse forward onto the seat, panting, our entangled bodies half-lost in each other. Bash holds me there, his bearded cheek against my wet, sensitive flesh. My hips twitch, still riding the waves of pleasure as his hands travel my hips, his fingers teasing the skin around my clit.

With a sultry smile, I shimmy myself down the length of his torso and position myself over him. Slowly, teasingly, I lower myself onto his hard length. The sensation of being stretched so damn good makes me gasp, my hands gripping his shirt for support.

Bash's fingers dig into my hips, guiding my movements as I start to ride him. Pleasure washes over me like the sweetest sin as I grip his strong forearms. I throw my head back, letting out a string of breathy moans that are swallowed by the sounds of Las Vegas seeping through the windows.

"Harder," I whimper, meeting his gaze with unbridled desire. "Don't hold back, Bash. I want all of you."

He answers with a fierce passion of his own, thrusting up to meet me with a primal urgency that leaves me breathless. Our bodies move together in perfect synchrony, lost in a dance of ecstasy and raw need.

In that moment, nothing else exists but the two of us entwined in the back of the limo, consumed by a hunger only for each other.

I gasp as Bash's fingers delve deeper into my curves, setting my skin on fire. The sensation of his touch nearly makes me forget where we are. But when I feel his hardness beneath me, all thoughts of discretion vanish. I grind against him, feeling the familiar coil of desire tightening within me.

"Bash," I moan, my voice barely above a whisper. "God, you feel so good. I could totally come again."

He chuckles, low and sinful. "You like that, sweetheart? You like how I fill you up?"

I bite my lip, nodding frantically. His words spur me on, urging me to move faster as our rhythm becomes frantic and primal.

"Grind that greedy little clit against me, Sage," he growls, swatting at my ass with one hand. "Show me how much you want it."

With a throaty moan, I increase my rhythm, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. The outside world fades away as we lose ourselves in each other, the only sounds filling the air are our mingled gasps and moans.

And when I finally shatter around him, crying out his name in pure bliss, I know this moment will be etched into my memory forever.

Outside, the city is oblivious to what's happening in our little bubble. I hold on for dear life, wondering what it says about me that I just came so wantonly on this beautiful man's dick right out in the open where anyone could see us. How am I supposed to go back to my real life when all this is over?

I'm not the same person I was when I left Montana.

"Sage," he groans, and then he's shivering, flooding me with his heat, and it's perfect. He's so perfect.

We're so unreasonably perfect together.