Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(31)
You won’t want anything to do with me afterward. I’ll have served my purpose. She could still hear the conviction in his voice, the pain. And not deconstructing the recipe that was Jasper and finding the incorrectly added ingredient went against a grain she hadn’t been aware of. Although, unlike the act of putting together a recipe, Jasper didn’t make her feel anxious. Like she was on the cusp of failing. Just the opposite, actually. Around him, she couldn’t seem to escape the optimism. Which made Rita wonder if trying to downplay the good had always been her default.
A car door slammed outside, followed by a squeal. Rita would have recognized that squeal as Peggy’s in a stadium full of squealers, so she rose and padded to the window to investigate. On the other side of the foggy glass, Peggy stood with her arms around a slight girl. Or woman? It was hard to tell because the hug recipient was so short. She only reached Peggy’s chin, but when the two broke apart and Rita got a good look at the new arrival’s face, her identity was somehow obvious.
Sage Alexander.
Of course. She’d been so bamboozled by a certain honky-tonk owner she’d forgotten the plan she’d hatched with Peggy last night to fly Sage to Hurley. After agreeing that Belmont’s behavior was growing increasingly worrisome, Peggy had called her best friend and wedding planner, explaining the situation without too many details. She knew what I was saying without my having to spell it out, Peggy had said after hanging up the phone. It was still a mystery at this point what kind of relationship Sage had with Belmont, but Peggy seemed confident that the wedding planner’s arrival would be good for him.
Rita would have stayed inside the room watching the scene unfold through the glass if Peggy hadn’t spotted her, waving Rita outside. Damn. She shoved her feet into the black boots she’d discarded by the door and trudged outside, hands in pockets, hovering to the side while the two women recapped every minuscule task they’d performed since the last time they’d spoken. Although, to be fair, the yammering was more on Peggy’s end while Sage listened with an indulgent smile, her fondness for Peggy clear.
“Anyway.” Peggy heaved a breath before reaching out and curling a hand around Rita’s bicep, pulling her forward. “I can’t believe you’ve never met my sister. Sage, this is Rita. Rita, Sage.”
Sage extended a professional hand. “Nice to meet you, Rita. We didn’t quite reach the one rehearsal dinner I managed to get scheduled.”
“Ah, yes. My first engagement.” Peggy tilted her head as if searching for flavors in a fine wine. “That was a close call.”
Rita shook Sage’s hand. “Hi,” she said, pretending she didn’t feel the tremor in the other woman’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“I wanted to come.” Sage picked up her suitcase and put it back down. Adjusted her round, clear-framed glasses. Her nerves were obvious, but she was clearly trying to put on a friendly face. Peggy launched into a description of Hurley’s charms, listing dinner and entertainment options like the concierge of a five-star hotel and giving Rita the chance to study Sage. She appeared to be in her midtwenties, although with the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, she could have passed for a college freshman, if necessary. Her light blue paisley dress was conservative—and that was putting it mildly. The neckline covered everything below her collarbone, the hem extending well past her knees, like some kind of throwback to the fifties. When Rita heard the words wedding planner, her mind conjured up a woman with sharp cheekbones and high heels that could double as a weapon. Sage couldn’t be a stiletto assassin on her worst day, if Rita was judging her correctly.
Peggy’s speech was cut off when one of the motel room doors opened behind Sage. Both sisters turned to find Belmont standing in the doorway of his room. Sage, however, didn’t look. She stayed perfectly still, smoothing those shaking hands down the front of her dress, eradicating nonexistent wrinkles. After that, Rita couldn’t stop gaping at her brother. Belmont was intense at his most relaxed, but she’d never seen him quite like this. Almost like he had the ability to freeze time and they were all caught up in the stillness until he decided activity could resume. Even Peggy, whose hands usually fluttered more than hummingbird wings, just watched, watched Belmont. As Belmont watched Sage.
The sisters had debated telling Belmont about Sage’s impending arrival, but thank God they hadn’t. If Rita hadn’t seen his reaction, before that stoic mask moved back into place, she might never have known Belmont’s world was made up of Sage Alexander. It called time travel to mind. A man going back and meeting his wife all over again, while still retaining the memories of their original lifetime together.
He emerged from the doorway after a good two minutes, creating a wide berth around the three women, eyes never leaving Sage. For the wedding planner’s part, she seemed to gain courage with each second that ticked past, her chin going up a notch here and there. But her fingers. They fussed over one of the pleats in her dress until Rita started to worry it might catch fire.
Sage still hadn’t turned around when she broke the silence. “Hello, Belmont.”
A gruff sound left him, his face turning away. “Thought you couldn’t make it.”
Wind whistled past in the ensuing pause. “December isn’t very popular for weddings. I moved some things around.”
“Why?”
“Why is December not popular for weddings?” Rita saw Sage’s lips twitch after posing the question and thanked God the woman had a sense of humor. Didn’t they all need to have one around this family? Honestly, here they stood in a strange town, outside of a ninety-percent-vacant motel, watching their brother prowl around someone who hadn’t even bothered to look at him yet. And somehow it all seemed like par for the f*cking course.