Free Stirred: A Love Story by Tracy Ewens Page B

he’d even remember how.
    “Um. . . hell yeah, we would,” his ego cried, beating its chest as Garrett turned to walk back to the office. He didn’t need this right now. Things were crazy enough without his newfound awareness of Sage Jeffries. Where the hell had she come from? He thought about calling Kenna but decided that was stupid. There was nothing to say. Nothing had happened between the two of them. She was obviously hot for the wine guy, which was good. Great. Why shouldn’t she be happy?
    Garrett dropped his face into his hands and for the first time in a very long time, he felt out of control. His mind raced and he couldn’t control his thoughts. All over a little naughty music and Sage’s pouty lips? Hell no, he thought, picking up the phone. She did have a great mouth, but he needed to clear his head now.
    “Hey, is that tractor engine still in pieces in the shop?” Garrett asked George when he picked up the phone.
    “Sure is. Does someone need it? I’ve been meaning to get to it, but I can’t figure out the manifold.”
    Garrett closed down his e-mail, most of them unopened. “I’ll be right down.”
    “You’re. . . going to work on an engine? Don’t you have—”
    “I’ll be there in twenty.” He hung up, took the cap off his desk, and put it on backward. Whistling to Jack, Garrett jumped into his truck. He’d be working off-site today, as the white collars put it. He needed to clear his head and get his hands on something he understood.

Chapter Seven
    S he was being tested, Sage decided when she arrived Monday morning to find him sitting at her bar. Or maybe Garrett liked the naughty exchange between her and Jeremy last week. It was entirely possible. She’d seen enough interactions at her bar to know that lots of men responded to the grapes in a fruit salad. Maybe he was one of those guys, because unless it was her always-hopeful imagination, he’d been stopping by the bar alone more often. In the past, he’d sat when Kenna was around or would talk with Logan, but this was different. He was stopping by and sitting alone.
    His gloves lay on the edge of the bar, so she knew he’d already delivered the produce for the day. Usually he’d be gone by now. Instead, he sat drinking coffee and scowling at something on his phone. Scowls were supposed to be ugly, scrunched-up looks, but his was more of a smolder that made her soft everywhere.
    It figured the minute Sage decided to move on and practice her naughty exercises on men her heart could handle, Garrett would be everywhere.
    “Maybe we should try one on him,” her stupid heart suggested.
    “That’s a great idea. Remember how things turned out the last time you got involved?” her mind chimed in, putting her heart firmly back in its place.
    He knew her feelings already. Whether or not he believed her, she’d been vulnerable. The naughty book strongly discouraged vulnerability. Sage recalled a few of the more progressive exercises from the book, and looking at Garrett, she was certain she’d pass out before anything happened.
    She replaced the sanitized caps on the soda guns and tried, as the book instructed, to think of Garrett as a conquest. He was staring down at his phone, seemingly preoccupied, and she felt like one of those predators on the nature shows Paige watched. Sage smiled at the thought and heard the whispering voice of the host in her head, “As the female lioness surveys the herd of male gazelles. . .” Testing the shots of soda water from the now-clean guns brought her back to reality. Garrett Rye was no gazelle. He’d eat her alive.
    Right on cue, he looked up.
    “Are you waiting for Kenna?”
    Garrett shook his head. “Having coffee. Am I in your way?”
    “No, no. It’s. . . you’re here.”
    What the hell are you doing? Cut oranges or something.
    “I am.” Garrett grinned and then grew serious. “When did we meet?”
    After a moment’s hesitation, she answered. “Summer, three years ago.