“Of course, I will,” she said. “I’m always careful.”
“No, ya ain’t,” Reb argued. “I’ve seen ya out here more’n once when I coulda walked up behind ya and ya never woulda known I was there ’til it was too late.”
“Too late for what?” Sage asked. She was irritated twofold, by the fact he had been near when she was visiting Ruthie and hadn’t shown himself—and by the fact he was implying she couldn’t take care of herself.
“Ya saw me comin’ in the barn, Sage. I didn’t sneak up on ya or nothin’,” he said, lowering his voice. “And look what happened there.” Sage felt herself blush and glanced away from him, dropping her arm from Charlie’s.
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
“I don’t know what happened in the barn, Miss Sage,” Charlie said. “But Reb’s right. That ol’ cat’s hungry and desperate. Ya be careful, now.”
Sage smiled at Charlie, pleased by his concern. “I always am, Charlie,” she said. “Supper’s at six tonight…unless you want a round of rummy with the ladies at five.”
Charlie chuckled, “Oh, I don’t think so, Miss Sage! I heard tell of them ladies and their card games. I’d stand a better chance ’gainst that ol’ mountain lion.”
“We’ll leave ya to yer pasture, Sage,” Reb said, rather gruffly. “Hope the fence will do.”
“Six this evenin’ then, Miss Sage,” Charlie said, touching the brim of his hat as he slipped between the posts. Sage smiled at him and nodded in return. Charlie mounted his horse and said, “See ya back at the house, Reb.” He rode off, leaving Sage feeling quite cheerful.
“Those ladies need a little schoolin’,” Reb said. “One of these days I’ll just have to show them a thing or two ’bout playin’ cards.” He seemed irritated. Sage guessed he had simply spent too much time in her company. He gathered his tools together and stuffed them in his saddlebags. He mounted his horse and touched the brim of his hat. “Lookin’ forward to supper, Sage,” he said. He turned and rode away without another word.
Sage frowned. Reb’s manner had changed so quickly from that of friendly flirtation to irritation. For a moment, she wondered if perhaps Charlie’s attention to her had caused his sudden change in mood, but she shook her head knowing it was impossible.
“You’re sproutin’ weeds faster than I can keep up,” she said to Ruthie as she knelt down and began weeding the soil. Still, as hard as she tried to concentrate on weeding, Sage’s thoughts kept returning to the conversation she was having with Reb before Charlie arrived. She smiled, a delightful shiver traveling up her spine as she thought of how he had teased her about kissing her again. Oh, she well knew he was merely teasing her, trying to soften the discomfort between them. Still, the very idea thrilled her. In truth, even though he had been teasing, it gave her hope—hope that perhaps he would kiss her again someday.
“Charlie!” Reb called. Charlie looked over his shoulder, reining in as he waited for Reb to catch up with him. “What ya doin’ flirtin’ with Sage that way, boy?”
Charlie laughed. “Me? Oh, I was just seein’ how far gone ya are on her already.”
Reb chuckled, shook his head, and said, “Yer dreamin’ things, my friend. Sage Willows is just a friend of my aunt’s.”
“Don’t be tryin’ to pull my leg, Reb. I know ya better than yer own mama knows ya,” Charlie said.
“I still got too much Ivy wrapped around my head, Charlie. And you know it,” Reb reminded his friend.
“Maybe,” Charlie admitted. “But it’s not yer head I’m thinkin’ of. It’s yer heart.”
Reb chuckled again. “I ain’t got no heart, Charlie. Just a cold piece of a stone where a heart should be.”
Charlie nodded, saying, “And my left arm here? Ain’t really there neither.” He chuckled. “What happened in the barn that she didn’t see comin’, Reb?”
Reb smiled and shook his head, glad to have his friend back with him. “The touch of Sage, Charlie,” he said. “Just the touch of Sage.”
Chapter Six
“Now, for Pete’s sake, Rose,” Mary grumbled. “Don’t be showin’ yer bloomers to Reverend Tippetts and Winnery if a miracle should happen and ya win a hand or two this evenin’.”
“Oh, Mary,” Livie said. “Rosie only shows her bloomers to us. You know that.”
“Well,” Mary said, placing the deck of cards in the middle of the parlor table. “It don’t hurt none to remind her now and then.”
“First of all, Mary,” Rose began, “I’ll show my bloomer ruffles to anybody I darn well choose.” Sage smiled as she saw Mary’s eyes narrow—her jaw tighten with determination. “And second, Scarlett Tippetts herself was a dancehall girl before…”
“Before she married the reverend. I know, I know,” Mary interrupted. “But ya don’t see Scarlett a-flashin’ her bloomers.”
“How do you know she don’t, Mary?” Rose asked. “Are you with her every livin’ minute of the day?”
“Settle down, ladies,” Eugenia giggled. “Everyone will be here shortly, and we don’t want you two bickerin’ when they arrive.”
Rose smiled and said, “All right, Eugenia. I won’t let Mary get under my skin.” She threw her skirt up over her back and wiggled her behind in Mary’s direction. “Wearin’ my pink bloomers tonight, Mary,” she said. “The ones with the red ruffles.”
“Oh, for cryin’ in the bucket,” Mary grumbled. Still, Sage could see the gruff old woman fighting a smile.
“I’m startin’ to smell those cobblers, Sage,” Livie said. “Mmmmm! Like the perfume of heaven.”
“They do smell delicious,” Sage agreed. Peach cobbler was Sage’s favorite. The peach trees in the orchard were heavy with ripe, delicious fruit, and she couldn’t resist making a couple of cobblers as an after-supper treat for her guests. Secretly, she hoped Reb would be as impressed with her peach cobbler as he was with her sage stuffing.
After returning from Ruthie’s pasture, Sage had worked extra hard on her supper preparations. Tuesdays were always special, but with Reb and Charlie in the guest mix now, she wanted to serve an excellent meal—not just a good one. She had made sage stuffing, fried up a heap of chicken parts, snapped fresh green beans from the garden, sliced up a few ripe tomatoes, and baked up some potatoes all slathered in butter and rosemary. The peach cobblers still baking in the oven would top off the evening perfectly.
A knock on the front door signaled the arrival of Reverend Tippetts and his counterparts, and soon the evening was light with laughter and friendship.
“The smell of them cobblers turns my mouth to waterin’ somethin’ fierce, Miss Sage,” Reverend Tippetts said as he waited for Livie to deal the cards.
“I hope they taste as good as they smell,” Sage said.
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll taste even better,” the reverend chuckled. As Livie finished dealing the cards, he said, “Why don’t you ladies give ol’ Winnery a chance at winnin’ this hand? He ain’t quite the rummy player…not like he is at poker anyway.”
“Mr. Winnery?” Eugenia asked. “Do you want us to cheat for you?”
“No, ma’am,” the tall man mumbled. “I’ll get to winnin’ soon enough.”
Sage drew a card and discarded another.
“Don’t let them fool you, Mr. Winnery,” she said. “They only cheat for themselves.”
“Sage!” Livie gasped. “How can you accuse us of cheating with the reverend sitting right here?”
“Oh, the reverend cheats well enough to take care of himself, Livie,” Scarlett said, winking in her husband’s direction.
“Reverend Tippetts!” Rose exclaimed. “Is that true?”
Reverend Tippetts shook his head and chuckled. “Not in the company of ladies, Miss Applewhite,” he said.
“We dusted off at the back door,” Reb said as he and Charlie entered the parlor. “Hope ya don’t mind us just showin’ ourselves in, Sage.” Sage’s hands began to tremble slightly at his sudden appearance.
“Oh no
. Of course not,” she managed.
“We heard all the laughin’ and goin’s-on and didn’t want to break up yer game,” Charlie said. “Charlie Dugger,” he added, offering his hand to Reverend Tippetts.
Reverend Tippetts shook Charlie’s hand and said, “Nice to meet ya, Charlie. This here’s my wife, Scarlett, and my ol’ saddle pal, Winnery.”
“Ma’am. Mr. Winnery,” Charlie said, nodding to the others.
“Is that peach pie I smell, Sage?” Reb asked, going to his aunt and affectionately kissing the top of her head. Sage couldn’t help but smile. She loved the way he doted on his aunt.
“Peach cobbler, actually,” Sage answered.
“Even better! I told ya we was in for a treat, Charlie,” Reb told his friend. “Ain’t nothin’ like supper at the boardin’ house.”
Sage’s insides fluttered, pleased at his compliment and enchanted by his handsome smile.
He walked over to Sage’s chair, leaned over until his face was very near her ear, and asked, “Any stuffin’ beforehand?”
“Maybe,” Sage giggled. His breath on her cheek caused the hair on the back of her neck to tingle, and she sighed—for it seemed all was well between them once again. Thinking of his kissing her in the barn still caused her heart to hammer, but at least he no longer seemed angry.
“You boys want to join the game?” Reverend Tippetts asked.
“No, thank ya, Reverend,” Reb said. “At least, not me. I think I’ll just sit down and watch the goin’s-on for now.”
“Me too,” Charlie agreed, sighing and revealing his fatigued state. “I’m tuckered out from the day.”
“You boys been workin’ hard gettin’ that herd all settled in and such?” Winnery asked.
“Yes, sir,” Reb answered.
“And now we got that ol’ cat to worry about,” Charlie added.
“Gareth Getcher told me just this afternoon that he’s missin’ a couple of cats,” Scarlett said.
“Ain’t natural for a man to have more’n one cat anyhow,” Mary mumbled.
“Mary!” Rose exclaimed.
“Cats are for old ladies and little girls,” Mary added.
“Don’t pay her any mind, Scarlett,” Livie said. “She’s just mad because she’s lost two hands in a row.” Scarlett smiled, obviously amused.
“Mmmm!” Eugenia sighed. “Them cobblers are smellin’ delicious!”
“My cobblers!” Sage exclaimed, leaping to her feet. “I’ve burnt them for certain,” she said, rushing toward the kitchen. Eugenia smiled, delighted that Reb’s arrival had distracted Sage so completely.
“Go on in and give her a hand, will you, Reb?” she said, patting Reb’s knee affectionately. “She’ll be in a tizzy all night long if those cobblers burn.”
“Well, we don’t want Sage in a tizzy, now do we?” he chuckled, rising from his seat on the sofa and striding toward the kitchen.
“Need some help?” Reb asked as he entered the room. Sage had just opened the oven door to see the cobblers were, indeed, finished baking. They weren’t overbaked, but another moment in the heat of the oven would find the top crusts too brown.
“Quick!” Sage said, snapping her fingers at him as she realized she had taken her apron off when the first supper guests had arrived earlier. “Hand me somethin’ to take them out with. Should be a towel hangin’ somewhere or an apron.” Almost immediately Reb handed her a wad of white cloth, and Sage quickly took the first cobbler from the oven, setting it on the stovetop. Then she removed the others. “Thank you,” she told him as she went to the table and set the cobbler on a wooden cooling rack. Returning to retrieve the other cobbler from the stovetop, she added, “One more minute and they’d have been ruined. Completely ruined!”
Sighing as she studied the perfectly golden crusts of the cobblers, she wiped her hands on the cloth Reb had handed her. “Now for a little butter and sugar and…” But her words caught in her throat as she turned to see Reb standing before her completely bare from the waist up. Gasping, she held up the cloth she had used to retrieve the cobblers from the oven blocking her view of him. Oh, she had seen Reb Mitchell without his shirt plenty of times—even been kissed by him in the barn when he was in a similar state of undress. But in the kitchen of her own home—with the Reverend Tippetts in the very next room—it was indecent!
“Let’s just skip the butter,” Reb said. Then dropping his voice, he leaned forward, pulled the top of the cloth down, and smiling at her said, “…and head straight for the sugar.”
Sage could not stop the crimson blush rising to her cheeks as she stammered, “Where on earth is your shirt, Reb Mitchell?”
Reb chuckled, pulling the cloth from her hands. “Ya said to hand ya somethin’ to get the cobblers out with.”
Sage blushed, realizing the cloth she’d been holding was, in fact, his shirt. “I meant a towel, an apron, or the like,” Sage explained, putting a trembling hand to her throat and trying not to stare at his muscular chest and arms. Somehow his standing in her kitchen in such a state unsettled her far more than it did when he was out at the ranch house working.
“Well, I don’t know where ya keep yer towels and aprons, and you were in such an all-fired-up hurry…I just grabbed the first thing that come to mind,” he explained.
“Well, for pity’s sake, put your shirt back on before someone comes in here and sees ya like this,” Sage ordered, unable to meet his gaze.
However, when Reb chuckled, she glanced up at him to find an all too amused grin on his handsome face as he said, “Did ya get it all sticky with peach cobbler juice?”
“For cryin’ in the bucket, Reb!” Sage exclaimed in a whisper as she hurried to the window that faced the street and pulled the curtains closed. “You can’t run around the boarding house half…” Again Sage’s scolding words were silenced as she turned to see Reb had advanced on her. He now stood directly in front of her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath in her hair as he looked down at her. Trying to calm her quickened breathing—trying to still the mad rhythm her heart had begun to beat—she took two steps sideways, intending to step around him. But it was apparent he was enjoying her discomfort far too much, and he simply matched her steps—even going so far as to take another step toward her. A mere inch of emptiness spanned the space between his body and her own, and Sage’s began to tremble. Visions of the kiss he had given her in his barn began to fill her mind, and her entire being began to burn warm at the memory.
“What…what’re you doin’, Reb?” she asked him, though still unable to look up and meet his gaze.
“Oh…I’m like that ol’ mountain lion. I’m just stalkin’ my prey, that’s all,” he mumbled.
Sage’s body was trembling so violently she was certain Reb could see it. Rebel Mitchell was far too improper. To say such things to her! And in her very own kitchen! Whatever was he thinking, anyway? Hadn’t they just that very day made their peace about the kiss in the barn? Had he already forgotten his regret at having kissed her then?
“You are a terrible tease, Reb Mitchell,” she said, finding the courage to look up into his face. “Now…now put your shirt on before someone walks in here and thinks—”
“I’ll put my shirt on when I’m darn good and ready, Miss Willows,” he said in a whisper. As he reached back, stuffing the shirt in the waist of his trousers, Sage made a quick attempt to step around him. But Reb was quicker and took hold of her arm, pinning her gently against the wall. Sage’s breath quickened, and she felt dizzy and weak as he whispered, “Now…what were ya sayin’ about sugar?” Reb’s hands slid caressively up and over her shoulders to her neck until he held her face between their strength. Sage was surprised at the excess moisture gathering in her mouth—as if anticipating the taste of a sweet summer peach. Her cheeks burned pleasantly under his palms—his touch sending her flesh into ripples of tingling goose bumps. Reb’s gaze locked with her own, and Sage held her breath as his head began to descend toward hers—slowly. Panic was rising
in her. Oh, how she had dreamed of another moment like this! As before, the moment was far more intense than her dreams, and she feared she might not be able to remain conscious were Reb to actually kiss her again.
Sage reached to her side, pulling a peach from its place in the basket on the cupboard shelf. A moment before Reb’s lips would have met her own, she pressed the peach to his lips and choked, “Peach?”
Reb smiled, obviously amused by her nervous attempt to stall him. “All right,” he chuckled, taking a bite out of the juicy piece of fruit. But this gave her only a moment of reprieve. Once he had swallowed the bite of peach, he pushed the peach aside—his lips finding hers in a tender, lingering kiss. Sage’s hand slowly dropped to her side—the peach falling to the floor.
It seemed to Sage Reb was being more careful with her this time—easing her into a deeper kiss rather than simply beginning with the driven sort of kiss he had administered to her in the barn. She realized he was teaching her as well—leading her into returning his kiss in a way she wasn’t able to in the barn. The kiss in the barn had been driven and far too unexpected for Sage to have returned it properly—even if she had owned more experience, which she did not. This manner of kissing, however, was different. Although it quickly mounted to the same temperature—the same driven fierceness—it had begun differently.
All manner of bright colors seemed to explode in Sage’s mind, and she found it difficult to breathe—for the delightful flutter in her bosom increased as Reb’s kiss grew in intensity. His hands found her waist, pulling her body flush with his own, and Sage had no choice but to let her hands rest at his shoulders. The smooth warmth of his skin beneath her palms both relaxed and impassioned her, and Sage let herself return the man’s masterful kiss. Encouraged by her response, Reb’s mouth began to work an affectionate spell about her, coaxing her into a deeper involvement—moist, heated kisses, laced with the flavor of summer peaches. Sage reveled in the scent of his face—the feel of his whiskery mustache and goatee on the sensitive flesh around her mouth—in every detail of kissing him. Reb’s kiss was flawless, and Sage was astonished at how perfectly their mouths melted together—as if this hadn’t been merely their second kiss but one of many familiar kisses shared before.
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