I stare, and I feel the walls slowly start to crumble. I start to see a different kind of fun right here with the woman on the blanket beside me. I see that sometimes loving and leaving isn’t what’s best. Sometimes loving and staying has its benefits, too.
“Or maybe I have,” I whisper, leaning in to close the gap between us. I quiet the vulnerabilities vibrating in both of our chests tonight. I shut down all the psychological fears and all of the past hurts and all of the past mistakes.
I kiss Sage Everling like I’ve never kissed another, and maybe in some ways, I haven’t. I don’t know if it’s the magical feeling of the cloudless sky above us, the sound of the waves, or the fact that we’ve just worn each other down. I don’t know if it’s the way she says my name or the fact that she’s opened up to me tonight with a genuineness I’ve never experienced with anyone else. I don’t know if it’s because for the first time, I feel like someone has seen right through me, right to my core, and didn’t go running.
Good or bad, I know that with this kiss tonight, we’ve turned a corner. Two players discovering that playing for keeps might be a possibility after all. It’s scary as hell, but it’s also something else, I realize as we pull back from the kiss, both staring at each other with an intensity bubbling from within.
It’s also affirmation that maybe we’re both not as broken as we once thought.
Twenty-Five
Sage
I desperately want Cash Creed to take me home after our picnic confessions on the beach. I want him to toss me on my bed and continue the kiss from where it left off. I want him to make me forget about the past and the complications of love by screwing my brains out, by spending the night in the throes of passion. But, to my surprise, he stands outside my condo door after we’ve packed up and decides to call it a night.
“I had a great time with you,” he says after pulling back from a sweet, simple kiss.
“Call me?” I ask, grinning.
“You better believe it,” he replies, and I chuckle.
“Is that the first time you’ve ever said that and meant it?” I ask.
He pretends to take mental inventory before responding. “I reckon it is.”
“Careful, your Texas is showing.”
“Because I said reckon?”
I just nod, grinning.
“Keep it up, and I’ll show you that what they say is true. You know, about everything being bigger in Texas.” He pulls me in, teasing me with another kiss, with his tongue.
“Been there, done that, remember?” His kiss ignites me, though, and I feel the need to pull him into my condo, to explore him all over again.
“You’re right. You already know how impressive I am. So I guess we can call it a night.”
“You can come in,” I quickly reply, hating the desperation in my voice, the hungry need that can be heard in my tone. I bite my lip.
His eyes sparkle, and I think he’s going to take me up on it. I think that finally this sexual tension between us can be put to rest.
He leans in, kisses me again, teasing me. “Goodnight, Sage,” he says, just when I’m about to go crazy.
“Are you serious?” I ask, leaning against my door.
“Come on. I have to keep you somewhat intrigued now that we’ve turned a corner.”
“I’m already intrigued,” I argue.
“I know. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Fine. I didn’t want to have sex with you anyway,” I reply, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.
“Sure you didn’t. But I’m just following your rules. You know, about no sex, just a date. You’ll thank me.”
I shake my head, exasperated. “Goodnight, Cash.”
He winks before strolling away, turning back to give me a lusty final glance.
I let myself into my condo, groaning. Still, as I climb into bed alone, I smile thinking about our night on the beach. It was a night like I haven’t had forever—a real date, real conversation, and no sexuality driving every move.
Even though I fall asleep unsatisfied in so many ways, I grin to myself thinking about how intrigued I am—and how maybe Cash Creed could be the one to finally break all of my rules.
Twenty-Six
Sage
“This isn’t really a champagne kind of morning,” I murmur, swiping at the mascara streaks on my face. I don’t even know what I’m wearing to be honest, but I know I look like a wreck. Harper saunters through my door carrying two bottles of champagne and still wearing a smile.
“Chin up, lovely. This is exactly the kind of morning for champagne.”
She walks to the cabinet that houses my glasses and pulls two out. I slump over on the island. This was supposed to be a champagne popping kind of morning, smiles and pride for what we’d accomplished with the new Evermore line. Instead, it’s been a tears in my coffee, sweatpants kind of morning.
The launch of Evermore’s Everpure line, a lofty, minimalist line for both men and women, was supposed to be the launch of my career. It was going to take us to even bigger heights, get us on every single celebrity’s must-have list. We were going to soar.
Instead, this morning’s reviews are touting the line as “overrated”, “unimaginative”, and even “abysmal”, citing the launch as “lazy” and “lacking vision”. Just like that, the success we’ve achieved from building this company has been overshadowed by this one thing we’ve worked so hard on.
“Hey, so a few reviewers don’t like it. So what.”
“They’re not just any reviewers,” I murmur as she slides me some champagne. She pours herself a glass of orange juice and joins me at the island.
She’s smiling that typical Harper smile, but I can tell she’s burning inside, too. These were largely her designs, not that I’m blaming her. We’re in this together. But I know it has to sting to see some of the commentaries on her designs.
“Look, the big magazines and influencers just don’t get it. That doesn’t mean it’s going to be a total failure. Your fans are still going to love the items, and we’ll just have to maybe change up our marketing. It’s going to be okay.”
I look at my best friend, the reassurance in her eyes. Still, I can’t see the truth in her words. Instead, I see the word “failure” written in the stars. I see the failure my parents always warned me would come.
I hate that today they’ve been proven right. I bet wherever they are, if they’ve come out of their selfish bubbles for five minutes to take in the world around them, they’re smiling at the disappointment of Evermore’s newest line.
“I just thought this was going to be a win. We put so much into this one,” I whine, hating the tone of my voice. I’m unable to stop it.
“I know. But listen, some lines start out like this. I mean, other fashion houses have had lines that got terrible reviews and turned out just fine. And this isn’t our only launch. We have the Evervibe line we’ve started planning, you know? It’s going to be okay.”
“I know. It just sucks.”
“It does. I agree with you there. So that’s why I brought two bottles. Drink your face off today, watch some movies, relax. Take some time to just recover, and then we’ll be right back at it. And those critics will be sorry they ever said those things about you. Because the next launch is going to be epic.”
I wish I had her optimism. Because right now, all I can wonder is if Evermore has seen its best days.
Harper leans on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay, boss lady. I love you. I’m proud of you.”
“Ditto. I think your designs are great,” I say as she sits back up. I chug down a glass of champagne, slamming it a bit too hard on the island when it’s gone. “If those hoity-toity critics can’t see that, then you know what I say? I say fuck them.”
“That’s the spirit. That’s the Sage Everling we know and love. Now listen, you know I draw best when I’m angry and mopey. And today, I’m sort of both. So I’m going to go work on the Evervibe sketches. Do you need anything before I go?”
“I have all I need,” I reply, feigning a smile as I point to the champagne.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“You do the same.” I lean in and hug her before walking her to the door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, turning one more time to study me.
I offer my best “I’m fine” look, nod, and give her a thumbs up.
“Okay,” she says hesitantly before heading out. I slowly shut the door after waving one more time.
And then I crumple to the floor and cry. No matter how sassy and confident, every woman has her breaking point. Every woman can only fake being okay for so long.
And every woman has her ultimate fear that cracks her.
“Shit,” I murmur, looking down at my sweatpants that are now covered in cheese puff crumbs and my champagne-stained T-shirt. I run a hand through my frizzy bun, knowing it’s no use. I wipe underneath my eyes, knowing my mascara’s just smeared even more, and pause the chick flick I’ve been watching.
“Coming,” I yell before traipsing to the door. I figure it’s probably Harper coming back to check on me or to show me some designs she’s excited about. I whip open the door, Barcelona and Monticello meowing at my feet. They always rush to greet company.
And then the second “Shit” slips out as I see who’s at the door.
The first thing I notice is the bouquet of red roses he’s extending to me. The second thing I notice? He’s wearing an Everpure outfit, head to toe. And although right now, it’s sort of a slap in the face, I also notice it looks absolutely gorgeous on him. I doubt anyone could give this outfit a bad review if they saw it on Cash Creed, the way it hugs the lines of his chiseled body. Killer ambles through the door, taking ownership of the place, and the cats hiss, but I don’t take my eyes off of Cash.
“Hey,” he says, as I gawk, remembering suddenly what I must look like. He’s never seen me like this. Hell, I don’t know that any man has.
“Sorry, I’m…. Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“I wanted to surprise you. Can I come in?” he asks, gesturing inside. The cats are still meowing, and I actually have to shove Monticello with my foot so he doesn’t wander out.
“Yeah, come in,” I say because what else can I say when he’s standing in my doorway holding flowers and my cats are ready to escape?
He hands me the roses, and this time I take them, still feeling flustered. “Thanks. What are these for?”
“I know your launch of Everpure just happened. I wanted to congratulate you. Hence the outfit. I think I was the first purchase when the website went live. Stunning, right? If you need a new male model, you know I could kill it, right?” His smile is huge as he does a model-like walk and spin. I just stare at him, grinning in spite of the situation.
“Thank you. I think. But I’m guessing you didn’t read the fashion critiques or reviews this morning.”
“What?” he asks, looking at me like I’ve spoken a foreign language. “There are fashion critics?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, wandering to the cupboard to find my vase. It takes a while to find one, and I have to blow some dust off of it. I put the bouquet of roses in and admire it. I can’t remember the last time a man bought me flowers.
“Well, I don’t need to read reviews. I have my own sense of fashion. If you couldn’t tell, I’m sort of serious about the way I look, and I have to say, I didn’t think anything could make this ass look better than it already does. I stand corrected because these pants hug me in all the right ways. Don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
“I have to admit,” he begins, walking closer to me. “I don’t know a lot about fashion designing and what you do. But I don’t know, I imagined you’d be like wearing an outfit from the line yourself, having a lavish party or something today. Not that I think what you’re doing is bad. I like the laid-back vibe you like never give off. You look sexy in a vulnerable way.”
“I look like shit,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. He continues walking toward me.
“Truth bomb. You could never look like shit.”
“Truth bomb?” I ask, grinning. “Who says that?”
“This stud man,” he says, pointing to himself.
I roll my eyes again, but I have to admit he’s lightened the mood. “What is wrong with you?”
“For starters, I’ve missed you. I know you’ve been busy and all, but Jesus, girl, you need to get out of this place. Have some fun. Isn’t that the perk of owning your own business?”
“Yeah, well, not really feeling like showing my face right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
I sigh as he puts his hands on my waist. I look up into those eyes that do make me feel vulnerable. I tell myself not to cry as I proceed to tell him what the reviewers and critics have said.
“So what?” he asks, shrugging.
I look at him, stupefied. “So what? Are you kidding? These reviewers and critics can make or break you. They’ve basically sealed the fate of this line. I’ve poured so much into this line, and it’s done before it even had a chance.” Tears start to well no matter how hard I fight them. When they spill over, Cash reaches up and gently wipes them away, his strong hands feeling powerful against my fragile state.
“Listen to me,” he practically whispers, so close we could kiss but don’t. “Don’t let them tear down your work, your vision. In all seriousness, Sage, you’re amazing. Look at what you’ve accomplished, what you’ve built.”
“Yeah, and now I’ve failed.”
He shakes his head. “No way. Not possible. So some stuck-up fashion critics don’t get your vision. Who cares? Other people will. And you haven’t failed. Look at what you’ve done already. You’re this force in the business world, an indie business that has risen to the top. You’re on the same level with some of those upper crust fashion houses—and you did it yourself, all the way. That’s amazing. You’re this sexy, gorgeous woman with a heart of gold. You’re daring and bold, but you’re also rational and witty. You’re this perfect concoction of everything a person could want to be, and you’ve achieved your dreams. That’s beautiful. That’s successful. I don’t give a shit what some fashion ‘expert’ says about it.”
I study the man saying these things about me, and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time, hearing these things for the first time. So many men have whispered sweet nothings to me, all with a motive behind them. These words, though, come from Cash’s lips with a pure quality that could make me cry a whole new set of tears.
It’s like he sees me for who I am, even standing here in these ratty sweatpants and frizzy hair. It’s not about who I pretend to be with Cash. It’s not about the sexy, sex-loving Sage when I’m with him. It’s about just Sage, the woman I want to be, flaws and failures and everything else.
He isn’t standing here with me to celebrate my success. He’s standing here to hold me when I feel like a failure. He’s standing here telling me I’m beautiful when I feel far from it. He’s here to share in all of me, to share all of him with me, and to just be the two people we are. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can be the real Sage, the one who is confident and powerful—but also scared and vulnerable and not quite all put together sometimes.
And that is probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt. That’s probably the best gift he could’ve given me: a gift no roses or expensive clothes could outshine. I put my arms around his neck and pull him in closer, taking his lips in mine, owning him with a passion I let fly off the handle.
As my hands wander down the buttons on his shirt, I whisper, “This shirt looks super sexy on you. And I know for a fact you paid a lot for it. But I’m going to have to get rid of it right now, if you’re okay with that.” I pull his shirt apart, popping all the buttons open in a rough but suave move. I peel it off of him, admiring his body as I toss the shirt across the kitchen. He picks me up and puts me on the counter.
“I don’t mind one bit, Miss Everling. In fact, if I had known the shirt would have inspired such fantasies, I’d have asked for the prototype months ago.”
His hands find the hem of my T-shirt, and he helps me lift it over my head. I pull the ponytail holder out of my bun, letting my frizzy hair fall to my shoulders. As we claw and paw at each other, the hunger of a passion unsatisfied since that first time we slept together, I let my mind go numb to the outside world. I put aside the line and Evermore and think about only one thing—the roaring fire I feel when I’m with Cash Creed, and how for once, I’m more than okay with experiencing that.
We spend the afternoon breaking all of our “one and done” sort of rules as we hit three and four and eventually five. Later, curled up in my bed debating over whether we should call for Chinese takeout or pizza, Cash turns to me.
“Today was amazing,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead.
And, despite all the things that went oh-so-wrong with today, despite all of the issues with my company and all of the reasons I should be devastated, I couldn’t agree with Cash more.
“Thank you,” I reply, kissing his jawline.
“For what?” he grins, and I playfully hit him.
“For everything,” I say, falling into his eyes again as I fall victim to his hands once more.
“What are you doing?” Cash asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles into my kitchen. I’m wearing his shirt—and his shirt only—and sitting at the kitchen island, working on plans.
“I’m inspired. I’m drawing up plans and marketing ideas for the next launch.”
“What the hell time is it?” he groggily asks as he stumbles toward me in his boxers, planting a kiss on my neck.
“Five.”
“Jesus. Do you always get up this early?”
I shrug. “Got to get going in the morning if you want to be successful.”
Lone Hearts (Lines in the Sand Book 6) Page 14
