“Any of the platters is fine.” 

She grabbed the ceramic beige oval one with green edges and set it next to the array of sliced sandwiches, getting to work laying the sweets out. Assuming she didn’t need me watching her like a hawk, I went back to what I was doing before Sage walked in. 

I wasn’t sure if she planned to sit in on the meeting or wait outside until we were done, but a small part of me hoped she’d sit somewhere in here, if only so I could steal small glances at her throughout the hours-long meeting. 

I shouldn’t want that, but here I was, silently wishing for it. 

9

Sage

Romance novels held too much expectation for men in real life.

There was no way some guy would do all these sweet things like the man in this book was doing. I’d opted to stay in the main part of the building while the meeting took place in the back. I’d started the book while waiting, but was kicking myself for doing so because now I’d want to take it home and finish it. 

It felt like I didn’t belong in the room with everyone else, which was why I was now sitting on the floor in the romance section. I wasn’t volunteering with the rescue, so I had no business sitting in on their discussion. 

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I’d gotten seventy pages into this apparent fast-burn romance, and I secretly hoped it lasted a little longer so I could continue reading in peace. Obviously, I had to pick Avery up from her friend's house before nine, but having some much-needed quiet after the afternoon I’d spent getting everything ready was a blessing.

A throat cleared to my left and I pulled my face out of the book with a jump, then quickly wished I hadn’t. The back of my head hit the shelf behind me and I winced.

“Shit, Sage. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” Callan knelt beside me with a furrowed brow. 

My fingers felt the back of my head as the pain eased, while my other hand still held the book open. “It’s okay.”

Warm fingers found mine and I froze. “Let me see if you’re bleeding.”

“I don’t think—”

“Sage.” My name was a rough command on his tongue, and I wanted to melt.

Moving my hand away, I angled my neck so he had a better view. His fingers gently prodded at my scalp, seemingly moving the hair away. After a few seconds, he pulled back.

“No blood.” He stood and held a hand out to me. Closing the book, I reached up to grab it. He pulled me to my feet, though I was perfectly capable of getting up on my own, and it put us mere inches from each other.

“How was the meeting?” I asked. 

“Long,” he replied, glancing down at the book in my hand. “You like to read?” 

I internally cringed at the thought of him seeing I was reading a romance and positioned the cover away from him so he couldn’t see the title. “Whenever I can squeeze in the time.”

“What genre?”

“What?”

“The book.” He gestured to where I was very obviously trying to hide it.

“Uh.” I moved to hold the book in front of me, looking down at the cover like it held the answers. “Romance.” 

He probably thought I was some hopeless romantic now.

“My mom likes romance, too. As a kid, after a long day on the ranch, I used to sit next to her as she read.”

That was…unexpected. “Really?”

He gave a small nod. “There’s nothing wrong with reading, if that’s why you were hiding it.”

My cheeks heated at his acknowledgement of what I was doing. “There’s just a stigma around it. I guess I thought you’d think I was some hopeless romantic.”

He looked confused, then said, “You shouldn’t hide your hobbies just because others don’t share them or understand why you have them.”

Apperception shone in his eyes despite his words, like he, too, had hidden things before for the sake of not being judged. 

“We’re about to start cleaning up if you want to grab your Tupperware and the leftovers,” he said, changing the subject.

“Yeah.” I turned to slip the book back into its spot on the shelf. I wouldn’t be able to check it out tonight even if I’d wanted to because the library was technically closed. They were only using the building for the back room.

Callan and I fell into step beside each other, heading past the computers toward the meeting area. A good majority of the people were still here socializing, so the area was pretty crowded, but I stayed close to the wall with Callan at my back as he followed me to the table full of mostly empty platters. 

I eyed the one my pastries were on and bent to grab the empty container from where it was stashed under the table. Setting the remaining sweets in one of them, I popped the lid on it and slid it to the side before bending to grab the other Tupperware. Callan must have gotten caught up on the way over because when I glanced to my left, I found him standing about ten feet away, stuck in conversation with an elderly woman.

Instead of turning back to grab the containers, I stood there like an idiot, hoping he didn’t see me watching him. His hair was just as it was that day on the ranch, curling at the nape of his neck up toward his tan cowboy hat. The button up he wore under his vest was fitted enough that I could see the definition of his biceps through the fabric. It was a light brown, close to the shade of his hat, and was tucked neatly into his jeans. 

He was attractive. All of the Bronsons were, if I had to admit it. But Callan held a different level of charm with his awareness of those around him. Now that I thought about it, I realized none of his brothers were here, but I was sure they had other things to do. They had their lives and some, significant others, which made me wonder why Callan seemed to have the free time to help out. Did he have a girlfriend?

He seemed like the type of guy to drop everything on a dime if you needed him, and by the looks of it, he was always there for his mom.

“Sage.” Lettie’s voice caught my attention, pulling me away from Callan. “Everyone loved your white chocolate cranberry scones. You have to make them for every meeting!” 

I smiled, pleased to hear that they enjoyed them. They were a favorite at the cafe. “I’m glad to hear it. You can take home the extras,” I offered, sliding the container in her direction.

“You and Avery don’t want them?” she asked.

“Trust me, we have way too many sweets at home. They’re all yours.” Avery and I indulged in my baked goods too often. It was nice to be able to pawn them off.

Lettie pulled me in for a quick hug as Charlotte walked up, sifting through the pocket in her dress. Lettie let me go, giving me a quick squeeze on the arm before disappearing to talk with a woman that was on her way out. 

“Thank you for bringing all of these. They were wonderful.” Charlotte held a folded paper out to me. “For the pastries and your time,” she explained.

I hesitantly grabbed it, unfolding it to find that it was a check—a very large one at that. 

“Oh, Charlotte, you don’t have to—”

“No, I insist. It was very nice of you to squeeze this in at the last minute, and you blew it out of the park.”

Taking money for my work was necessary, but it didn’t stop me from feeling bad about it. Baking was my passion, and getting paid for it in return felt odd. At the cafe, it didn’t feel the same because that was at an actual business. But as myself, I didn’t feel good enough to be considered a business, let alone paid like one.

“Thank you.”