5

 

Sage couldn’t get the woman off his mind. And oh, how he wanted to get Lanae Petersen off his mind. Didn’t he?

Those hazel eyes, ever changing in prominent color, had kept him from a good night’s sleep.

He left his bathroom and went into the vaulted great room of the ranch home. Sage blew out pent-up lungs full of air as he surveyed the room. “You were so fine, my love.”

Becca didn’t answer. Her frozen smile beamed into the expanse from where it perched on the mantel shelf. Sage didn’t check the tears that gathered as he crossed the floor. “You’d be so proud of Lezlie. And Jax. He looks just like her. Tall, red-haired, scads of freckles. Except he has your eyes. And he wears a size fifteen shoe. Can you imagine?” He ran a crooked thumb over her smiling lips. The glass felt cold.

Lanae had been all about heat. So full of life that it hurt him to watch her. She’d warmed the air around them.

He gripped the edge of the rough-sawn pine plank of the mantel shelf, locking his elbow.

And just that fast, his tears dried. His breathing hitched.

He had felt feverish with Lanae Petersen in the barn as her warmth reached out to him at the base of the ladder. Sage doubted he could have moved if lightning had struck the peaked roof. He’d heard the expression of time standing still but until that moment had never experienced it.

He had sensed her awareness of him in her placidness, almost like she was breathing him in. She was so close that he had imagined her embracing him from behind. And it had taken a mountain of willpower not to turn and grab her close.

It’d been so long since he’d felt that way.

Not since Becca was alive. But Becca hadn’t made my pores sweat inward.

Their desire, his and Lanae’s, he reluctantly admonished, had been thick in the air. It was a felt thing, an almost tangible longing he couldn’t put a word to. More than a physical level. Those reawakened feelings had come out of nowhere.

Lanae Petersen had come out of nowhere.

All because he decided to get rid of the dresser.

She’d answered an ad in the paper.

He’d taken a phone call, given directions.

And Lanae Petersen drove directly into his life.

He hadn’t moved back there in the barn. The experience was a spiritual moment, when her soul reached out and touched his on a plane he’d never known existed. The moment had shattered when Lanae mentioned Christmas.

Christmas always reminded him of Becca. How could he forget the holiday that turned his world colorless? Becca had died on Christmas Eve. And the life he’d known became history. Every year since then, he’d taken Lezlie and Jaxson on a trip instead of celebrating Christmas.

And this year, he planned to look at some property while they were on vacation in the sunny South. Nebraska winters were getting a bit too harsh for his constitution. It was time for change.

But, what if a new life experience was right here at home?

 

****

 

If it’s worth going through, I want the experience now.

 

“He’s tied to the mystery letters. I can feel it in my soul.” Lanae spoke to a gold and white display of angel ornaments as she went about the business of Frivolities, preoccupied with thoughts of Sage.

The letters stayed on her mind, and turned into her excuse to stay in contact with him. The letters belonged to him. Or, someone in his family.

She couldn’t get the writer off her mind. Katherine—whoever she was—had emoted such passion through her words. Lanae read between the lines and imagined Katherine as stirred up over her Teddy, much as Lanae remained shook up over the barn episode with Sage. What had possessed her to behave that way?

Throughout the day, the cowboy came to the forefront of her mind except when she was talking shop or busy with a customer.

Lanae glanced toward the front when the jangling bell announced another potential buyer coming through the door. Smile of greeting in place, her heart picked up its pace.

The sight of Sage sauntering into Frivolities drew a grin. This cowboy was way out of his element. He removed the hat, revealing his close cut brown hair and a serious what-have-I-gotten-myself-into frown.

Lanae, as well as Geneva and Moselle, wanted all men to feel out of their element in Frivolities.

Only this guy made her breath hitch, and her spine stiffen to full walk-with-a-book-on-your-head attention.

Hmm, maybe the women should do something about that. Create a masculine corner? She tucked away the nugget and planned a men’s shopping guide as an idea to bring up with the others.

For now, her every cell felt riveted on the man shutting the door behind him with complete mastery, like he didn’t want to make a whisper of a sound as the latch clicked back in place.

Too late. The bell had announced his arrival.

He looked down at his hat as though he’d never seen it before and arranged it back on his head at the precise angle he wanted. Then Sage rolled on in, gaze ever on the move. His muscles bunched, clearly defined in upper body and legs. That V-shape of a cowboy—complete with hat, boots, turquoise belt buckle, and narrow hips fitted into snug denims.

Lanae’s mouth went dry. Sweat prickled her palms.

Something twinkled. Was that really a diamond stud in his ear?

She felt as though every nerve ending in her body woke up.

When he was close enough for Lanae to catch the scent of the outdoors on his clothes, she looked down at his working man’s hands. They were white-scarred and rough, with knobby, swollen knuckles that reminded her of Geneva’s arthritic fingers.

And then she swallowed, trying to digest the idea of his hands touching her. The calluses would be rough, yet she knew those hands calmed horses on a daily basis.

“Hi. I washed these for you. We left them on the bench in my rock garden.” His voice drew her gaze to meet his.

“Thanks. Sage, you didn’t have to bring them in. I haven’t even missed them yet.” Lanae hadn’t noticed that he carried her thermos and plastic container

“That’s OK. Talked to Lezlie this morning about the day Jaxson is going to spend with me and I realized that it’s almost Christmas. I haven’t got a thing for her.” He swallowed and looked around, frown lines deepening.

His grin gave Lanae a glimpse of the little boy he must have been.

“I figured this would be a good place to get something different for her.” His gaze roved and came back to her face. “Lezlie has enough western things. Besides, that theme really isn’t her thing anymore.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“I’m kind of afraid to move around much in here. So. Haven’t a clue.” He shot her a sheepish grin. “You sure do have a lot of woman-stuff.”

“That’s the whole idea.” She couldn’t help but answer his grin with a wide smile of her own.

He was so out of his league.

She loved it.

“Can you tell me a little about Lezlie? The colors she likes, or does she collect anything?”

His eyes appeared to refocus. “Turtles. She loves turtles.”

“OK then. As wild as it sounds, it just so happens Geneva has a wall quilt with a turtle motif.”

She led him through displays of Victorian tree decorations, cat and dog themed items, linens in a refinished pie cupboard, feather boas, tiaras, and other little girl things that turned them into princesses.

“Who does the fancy work? Doilies, aren’t they called? My mom used to do stuff like that. It’s nice and feminine, if you like that kind of thing.”

Lanae sighed with pleasure. Sage noticed the fruit of her hands. So warmed inside by his compliment, she felt her smile spread. “Yes, they’re crocheted doilies. Those are some of my contributions to Frivolities.”

He fingered the three-dimensional flower on a table runner, his broad, tanned hand looking so masculine against her finery. His rough touch gentled probably so he wouldn’t snag the linen where it met the crocheted rose.

“You do good work.” He returned his hand to his side. “Where are those turtles?”

Lanae got a kick out of watching expressions on the faces of customers. She’d remember this customer’s reaction for quite some time.

When she showed him the wall quilt, his frown turned into a smile. As though a weight had lifted, he murmured, “It’s perfect.”

Lanae was proud as punch at Sage’s reaction to Geneva’s quilted piece.

“Orange is Lezlie’s favorite color. She likes olive green, too. But it reminds me of the military, so I don’t quite get how any woman can like it.” He tilted his head and returned his attention to the appliquéd quilt. “I would have never thought to put orange and purple together.”

“Geneva can’t help herself. Purple is her favorite color.” The last two words came in stereo.

Sage raised a brow and tipped his hat to Geneva.

“Welcome to Frivolities. And I’m going to guess that your name is Sage.”

“That it is, ma’am.”

Geneva extended her hand, catching Lanae’s eye in the movement. “So, who else likes the color purple?”

“My daughter likes orange. And she has a thing for turtles so I don’t even need to ask a price. This artwork is sold.”

“Sphtt,” Geneva sputtered and splayed her hand at the base of her throat. “Artwork, indeed. It’s just what I do.”

“The way Sage listens to horses,” Lanae said.

“I understand you have a wonderful home.” Geneva continued as if she’d not heard her sister’s comment. “Lanae wants to move back to the country now, thanks to you.”

“I never said—” Lanae began.

But Sage jumped in, “Well, I wouldn’t know about that.” He avoided a direct look at Lanae and spoke to the hanging turtle. “Think you could wrap that up so I can be on my way?”

“I’ll rustle you up some brew for the journey. Caramel flavored coffee with white chocolate syrup sound all right?”

Sage joined Lanae’s laugh at the wording of Geneva’s offer.

Yup. Lanae could get mighty used to cowboy lingo again.