Page 15 of The Curveball
I grab a box of peanut butter flavouredbars and toss them in the cart before rounding the corner toward the produce section.
There’s a woman standing in front of the apples with long dark hair. It’s not Sage. I know it can’t possibly be her. But try telling that to my fucking masochistic heart that gets excited every time I’ve seen a pretty brunette recently. Every time, there’s a split second where I wonder if it’s her.
Except…is it?
Fucking hell.
“Sage?” My voice almost cracks as the woman in front of me slowly turns. Those light green eyes that I’ve never forgotten are wide. And still as beautiful as I remember.
I take a tentative step forward. “I…” I shake my head. “I’m not imagining this, right? You’re here. In front of me. For real.”
Dropping the apple she was holding, Sage twists her fingers together and lets out a shaky laugh. “Um, yeah, I am. Hi, Brady.”
Why doesn’t she seem as shocked to see me as I am to see her?
Someone reaches in front of Sage to get to the apples, and she takes a step out of their way, murmuring an apology. The movement brings her close enough to me that I get a faint whiff of her shampoo, and memories of our night together slam into me again.
The easy way we talked, laughed, and touched. The simple comfort of being around her. The instinctive way I was able to read her body and know what she needed, how to bring her pleasure.
Seeing her again is fucking incredible.
“What brings you to this part of Canada?” I ask, leaning against my shopping cart in the hopes of appearing casual.
When it starts to wheel away from me, I stumble forward, recover, and stand upright, hoping my face isn’t bright red.
Epic. Fail.
But when I look at Sage, she’s not cringing at my embarrassing move. Thank God.
As soon as she catches my eye, however, her face falls. Then as I watch, it turns white, then pink, as she puts her hand on her stomach and grimaces.
“Hey, are you okay?” I put a hand on her arm, concern overshadowing every other emotion.
She nods. “Just feeling a little nauseous.”
I move closer and shift my hand to her back, rubbing it gently. I freeze when she looks up at me.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be, it feels good,” she whispers.
I slowly start to rub her mid-back again in circles. “My sister would get wicked period cramps. A hot water bottle with a back rub was the only thing that helped.”
Sage’s eyes fill with tears, and I rear back. “Shit, what did I say?”
“Nothing.” She sniffs. “That’s just really nice of you to do for her.” She swipes away the tears with a shaky laugh. “God, I hate crying in public. I swear, I’m not normally this emotional.”
“Then let's go somewhere else?” I ask immediately, then mentally cringe. Way to come across as an enthusiasticpuppy, Brady. “Please. I’d just really like to talk to you some more.”
Sage’s tongue darts out and moistens her lips before she gives a slight nod. “That would be good.”
I grab a few of the apples she was in front of and stuff them in a bag, dropping it in my cart. Then I take the croissants from her arm and add them as well. “C’mon, let’s go.”
She follows alongside me as we go to check out, and I silence her protests with a raise of my eyebrows when I place her two items on the belt along with my own.
A few minutes later, we’re leaving the store. My arms are loaded down with bags, but as soon as we step outside, Sage gestures to me with grabby hands.
“I need the croissants, please.”
