I grabbed them from her. “Sure. Where would you like them?” 

“One for each chair, please.”

Her brunette hair was frizzing at the edges like it typically did after a long day, and to say this day was long for her was an understatement. I wished she wouldn’t stress so much about these types of events, but stressing was in her nature. She’d been scrabbling around all day to make sure everything was here before we had to set up. Lettie had taken a few trips back and forth from the ranch when she’d realized she’d forgotten something. Summertime last year, our parents gave more responsibility to Lettie with the rescue, and ever since, she’d killed it with every event we had. The passion my mom had for the nonprofit ran just as strong through Lettie. She was here tonight, running around setting things up, barely having a moment to spare. Mom had put her in charge of the agenda, so she was nervous about the PowerPoint she had spent hours working on. She’d clicked through it about a dozen times on the projector while we set up.

I got to work setting the papers out in front of each chair, not paying any mind to what was written on them. It was most likely an agenda and some dates throughout the end of the year for events we’d be holding for the rescue, like the annual parade we did at the fair. The date was fast approaching, so I’m sure it’d be a topic of discussion tonight.

I’d planned to stay for the meeting so I could help my mother clean up afterward with the other various volunteers that were currently helping us set up, so I’d hear about it anyway.

The door to the room opened, the creak echoing throughout the space. I glanced toward the entrance, but then did a double take when I saw who it was.

Sage McKinley.

In a fucking dress.

My foot caught on something and I cursed, reaching out to steady myself on the chair. A few of the papers slipped from my hand, but I regained my grip before the entire stack could go down.

I bent to retrieve the fallen parchment while mentally scolding myself.

Sage was wearing a short pink sundress with little roses on it that landed right at her mid-thigh—which should be illegal, by the way, because Sage looked too fucking good. I would have noticed the rest of her, aside from her legs, if there hadn’t been a tower of reusable containers covering half her body.

I stood, setting the papers on the table, then weaved my way through the row.

“Let me help you with those,” I offered as I approached, not waiting for her response to take them from her.

“Thank you,” she said, heaving a breath.

Turning around, I made my way over to the table along the wall. After setting them down, I found her behind me, looking out over the room.

“This is all for the rescue?” she asked.

I nodded. “My mom is one of those go-big-or-go-home type of women.”

“I see that.” Sage scanned the room, her eyes coming to a stop on me. They caught on my tan cowboy hat for a moment before she cleared her throat. “I’ll just go grab the rest.”

“I can help.” Without the Tupperware covering the other half of her, I had to fight to keep my eyes from trailing down. It wasn’t wrong for me to think she was beautiful—if anything, it was a compliment. Beauty, raw in its form, stood before me, and I could do nothing but admire it. Admire her. 

She accepted the offer with a small nod, her long hair catching on the spaghetti straps of her dress, before she turned and headed back for the door. I quickened my stride to get there before her, grabbing the handle to hold it open. Before she slipped out, she gave a quick wave to Lettie, who’d finally spotted her from the front of the room.

“Thank you.” Sage walked by, and we strode through the library in silence before heading out the entrance. 

The outside air was still warm, the sun just beginning to set. There was a pink tinge to the sky, creating the most eerily beautiful hint of rose over the landscape.

“They’re in the trunk,” she said as we came up to her SUV. She felt around for the latch by the license plate, then pulled. The trunk swung open to reveal about a dozen Tupperware, all filled with pastries. 

“Wow. That’s…”

“A lot,” she filled in. “I know. I wasn’t sure exactly what to make, so I figured an assortment would be good. Your mom said there’d be about fifty people, so I made extra in case people wanted more than one of each.” 

I turned my attention from the trunk to her, seeing that she was eyeing the boxes like she was just now realizing she may have gone overboard. But she didn’t. It was cute that she was worried people might want seconds. That alone showed her empathy like a badge.

My eyes landed on a splotch of flour dusting her cheekbone and I wiped my hand on my jeans in one small movement to stop myself from reaching out to her. I hadn’t noticed it inside, likely because I was distracted by her in this dress. “You’ve got, uh,” I started, raising my hand toward her face. She looked at me, waiting for me to continue. “Here.” Slowly, I brought my thumb to her cheek, wiping the white powder away. 

Like an idiot, my thumb hovered there, swiping again for good measure. My other fingers brushed her hair, moving a few strands with the movement. Her skin was soft. She was like the delicate wildflowers that bloomed around the ranch in the spring, reaching toward the sun with their vibrance, aching to have their beauty seen by even one pair of eyes.

I saw hers.

Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes stayed glued to mine, and fuck, I hadn’t looked at someone like this in so long. Really looked at them. It was like I could see all of her just in her eyes; pain, beauty, happiness—it was all right there, laid out like a map. 

But why pain?

Sage seemed so…pure. Like she could do no wrong, and yet she held this worry like it was a part of her.

It shouldn’t be, and the side of me that wanted to fix everything for everyone screamed at me to get it out of her, and make the only thing that shined on that beautiful face joy. 

Lowering my hand to wipe it on my black vest, I cleared my throat. “Sorry. You had some flour on your cheek.”

Her cheek moved in a way that told me she was gnawing on it from the inside. “Thank you.”

I dipped my chin and moved to grab a stack of Tupperware. Sage did the same, leaving the trunk open as we headed back inside the library. 

“Do you bake for events like this often?” I asked. Silence was deafening, and I was already feeling anxious being at this meeting. People would soon fill the space entirely. 

Using a shoulder to push the door, I used my boot to keep it propped open while allowing her space to move past me. 

“Sometimes. Working full-time at the cafe leaves me little free time to do things like this on the side, but if people ask, I’ll always say yes.”

I internally smiled at that. People pleasing was my best and worst trait, and it seemed to be hers, too.

Making our way through the library and back into the meeting room, we set our stacks beside each other on the table, then headed back out for the rest. 

“Are you staying for the meeting?” I asked as I closed her trunk, balancing the Tupperware in one hand. 

Her thumb idly rubbed at a spot on the bottom container as she walked beside me on the sidewalk toward the building. “I don’t want to impose.”

A burst of air blew through my nose as I kept my eyes trained ahead of me. “There’s going to be fifty or so people here, Sage. You’re not imposing.”

Adjusting the containers in my hand, I opened the door for her again, but she paused, causing me to look at her. “Thank you for helping me with these.”

My brows drew together slightly under the brim of my hat. She didn’t need to thank me again. “No problem. You’d have taken twice the amount of trips back and forth alone.”

She blinked, the corners of her mouth turning up the smallest bit. “You’re right,” she said, her voice quieter than before. She passed me and it took me a moment to follow. Was I doing the wrong thing by helping her? My mom had said she’d call when she arrived, and if she did, no one told me about it. Maybe she hadn’t wanted help? 

Either way, that didn’t sit right with me.

After our short walk through the library into the back room, we sat our piles next to each other again. 

“Did your mom have a certain way she wanted these set out?” Sage asked, keeping her gaze on the table.