Her Christmas Wish (The Cottages on Ocean Breeze #1)

Chapter Twenty

I t took about ten seconds for Gray to recover enough to know that he’d made a colossal mistake.

Sage was already off from him, rapidly yanking her dress down to her ankles. A sure sign, if he’d needed one, that the world had just turned blacker than the night.

He’d had sex without a condom. Something he hadn’t done since...Sage.

And he’d had sex with Sage.

Who, thankfully, had been a stickler for remaining on birth control. Due to her cycle, not her sex life.

Which did nothing to protect against the splintering of a very fragile, incredibly important, newly forming platonic friendship.

Nope, he’d just blown that straight to hell.

No matter who’d climbed on top of whom. He’d had a chance to say no.

As thoughts splayed across his mind, Gray lay on his back in the sand, tempted to just bury himself right then and there, but when he figured that would be akin to walking away from her again—something he’d promised never to do—he righted his trunks and sat up.

He wasn’t going to tower over her.

The next call was all hers.

“Okay, well, I guess that was bound to happen. Got it right out of the way, there, didn’t we?” Sage blurted, walking a small circle around herself, as though looking for something. Her shoes were already hooked around her fingers. The clutch she’d been wearing all night hadn’t come off during their romp.

But then the whole thing had taken less than a minute.

Definitely his worst sexual moment of all time, in terms of respect, consideration, caring, relationship.

And one of the most powerful, incredible minutes he’d ever experienced.

Sage came to a standstill over him. Just stood there. Looking down.

He’d never felt lower in his life.

“Are you waiting for me to apologize?” Her words started out strong. Segued to something akin to petulance by sentence end.

He glanced up at her. “What for? We’re two adults. Clearly consensual.” So why did he feel like he was the one who owed a million apologies?

“I came on pretty strongly,” she said, when he wished she would just let things go and...sit down beside him for a minute or two.

Let his body...and his mind...regroup.

Glancing up again he said, “Yeah, well, my pheromones have been invisibly bombarding you since the first day in your office,” he told her. Knowing why the fault was his. “I’ve been turned on pretty much since that first second by the elevator and shooting out the silent chemicals ever since. Mind you, they were firing without my blessing, but...” His neck was hurting, staring up at her. “You mind sitting down?” he asked. And then added, “It’s not like we’re in danger of crossing any lines here...”

Nope, that damage had already been done.

But the consequences seemed a tad less fatal when she lowered herself beside him. Not close enough to touch. But not piranha distance, either.

“So that was kind of random, huh?” she asked, knees drawn up with her dress pulled down over them to her ankles. With the dress’s slim line, not an easy feat.

That together with the fact that she was hugging those knees with both arms wrapped around them told him enough. She’d closed herself off to him.

There was relief in that.

And a certain amount of disgust for the relief.

“As you inferred, it was probably inevitable.” With no good way out. How did you proceed with a friends-only plan when you’d failed to keep to protocol at the first viable opportunity not to do so?

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said then. “Not going forward.”

The words lightened his load a ton. Until he glanced over at her and got turned on all over again. She was Sage. The one woman who did it for him above all others, apparently.

And a woman who needed far different things than he was equipped to provide. He got cold sweats even thinking about being the family man that would complete her picture.

“You think it’s possible...to go forward as planned?” he asked her. Realism was the one thing he could trust.

And they could most count on.

“Because I can’t guarantee that if we have a repeat somewhere down the road, of a night like tonight, it won’t happen again.”

If she could be the guarantee then, fine.

He was watching her, but she didn’t look back. “I don’t see how we have any other choice.”

Weak. A lawyerism—avoiding a fact due to having no good answer but refusing to commit to that information. She used to tease her brother about using them.

“So we just let the emptied pot fill up again, and cook, until it reaches boiling point and then see what happens?” The pot calling the kettle black. And they were the pot. Right there. Them together.

Sage finally turned to look at him, and while he couldn’t see the expression in her eyes due to the night’s shadows, he definitely recognized the firm set of her chin. “We’re too far in to disappear from each other’s lives.” She pointed out another truism. “And I’m not sure I have the strength to try, in any case.”

Whoosh. The chills that passed through him were decidedly the pleasant kind.

“So the only solution is to be on guard and make certain that we don’t ever let ourselves end up in the position we were in tonight. I’d planned to drive myself and I should have done.”

And he had some good news there. “I planned to drive separately as well,” he told her. “Scott was the one who asked...” He stopped, realizing he was hanging his friend out to dry. And finished with, “He was worried because he was going to be gone, and we’d be coming home late...” Hoping he was digging the twin out at least a little bit.

Sage’s facial muscles moved some. And while the night kept most of her expression from him, he had no trouble picturing her rolling her eyes.

“From now on, we know our parameters,” she said.

He wanted to grin. To take a swim. Or just run circles on the beach. “Agreed,” he said. Putting his whole system into the one word.

She’d found their way out of the muck.

Thank God.

As soon as they’d agreed upon a new plan to manage their gaffe, Sage jumped up, excused herself and left Gray sitting on the beach.

He’d offered to walk her up.

Her no had been a bit harsh, but understandable, given the situation. They’d settled instead for her flashing her kitchen light—which could be seen from the beach—twice when she was inside and locked up safe.

She got there and done with impressive speed. And into her room to change just as quickly. As though they were burning her, she stripped off the dress, the noticeably wet underwear, and throwing the gown in the dirty clothes, put the panties in the trash. Practically jumping into sweats and a T-shirt, she walked through the dark front rooms to the kitchen, peering out to see that Gray had left her portion of the beach.

And then, opening a wine cooler, slid outside to sit on her porch. She needed the fresh air, the sound of the ocean. The sense of freedom. Hoping to hell, together with the wine, she’d find a way out of the panic coursing ruthlessly inside her.

What had she done?

They hadn’t used birth control.

And if she...

He’d think she’d jumped him on purpose.

A part of him would have to always believe that she’d tried to trap him.

Oh, God, there was no proof otherwise.

Every bit of the evidence pointed to her guilt.

Had she done it on purpose?

Absolutely not. Unequivocally. Her instant panic, the second she’d realized what she’d done, was testimony to that fact.

Somehow—while flooding with fear-instilled desperation—she’d managed to hold it together and get away in a calm, rational manner.

But...

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

The only consolation was that he’d think she was on birth control. She’d once forgotten her pills when they’d been on a weekend getaway on a chartered boat, and she’d insisted on nixing the plans to go back for them. Her cycle used to be so painful, and profuse.

Something that had waned over the years. And her doctor, for her own health, had suggested, since she wasn’t sexually active enough to need them, that she go off them. He’d advised that a condom would work just fine.

If one used one.

Oh, God.

The morning-after pill. She had to get it somehow. Call someone. Find a free clinic. Or a woman’s health office. Call a friend...

She’d brought her phone out with her, but it wasn’t the late-night hour that stopped her from searching the internet or dialing potential sources.

It was the idea itself. She had friends who’d used the morning-after pill. Supported their choices wholeheartedly.

Would use it herself in a heartbeat if she’d been forced, or...

If it wasn’t Gray she’d just had sex with.

Because she loved him. And wiping out the possibility of life for a child conceived in love?

Most particularly when she considered how strenuously Leigh had fought for her life? And then pictured the result of that fight. A child she was raising up to be a loving, fun, aware, contributing member of society.

She was mother incarnate. Her own mother incarnate. It was just who she was.

Truth was, even if she hadn’t been in love...if she ended up pregnant, she’d probably have to have the child. It was just who she was.

But she absolutely did not want to be. Not with Gray.

For his sake. The idea would strangle him.

But for her own as well. She didn’t want to grow a baby, bear a baby and raise a baby whose father didn’t want him or her.

Him or her.

The image brought to mind a slightly larger version of Leigh the first time she’d laid eyes on her daughter. A picture minus the tubes and tapes. Maybe a boy. Or another little girl.

And she sat with it.

Tears dripping down her cheeks.

As she tipped her bottle and swallowed.

Gray wanted to have sex with Sage again.

And again and again and again.

He’d once wanted to surf across the ocean, too.

And he’d wanted his mother to meet a man she loved, who loved her, and get married.

He’d wanted his grandmother to be well enough for him to be able to leave her to go to his junior prom. He’d already asked the girl, and she’d said yes.

He knew how to live with unresolved desire. How to move forward, past it. To focus on things he wanted that were within his ability to achieve. To stay there until the sting of disappointment dissipated. At least for most of his conscious hours. Until pushing aside the need became habit.

He was very proficient at the habit-forming part of it all.

He focused every ounce of his energy in other, more positive endeavors. Like vetting all the applications that poured in formally after the luncheon.

And watching the dollar amounts rise in the investor accounts, too.

He surfed. A lot.

Stayed off the beach, otherwise.

And when all else failed—as it did a week after their night on the beach—he scrounged for immediate diversion. He’d arrived at Sage’s office right on time that next Friday afternoon, completed his business with her—trussed up in one of his most conservative suits and fully knotted tie—and was sitting in the chair with her desk between them. He was mentally preparing himself for the next session that was to include one of her partners, when her phone rang. Said partner had unfortunately been forced to take an emergency call, thought he’d just be a few minutes and asked if they’d wait for him.

It was the first time they’d been alone, with no business to conduct, since the unmentionable occurrence on the beach. The other couple of times he’d seen her that week, he’d left as soon as they were through with whatever had called him up to see her.

He watched her on the phone with her peer, frowning as the conversation progressed. When she’d hung up and dialed a receptionist to let her know about the partner needing not to be disturbed—he couldn’t help but wonder if she seemed a bit edgier than usual. Even more so than she’d been the first day he’d been there in her office.

Or was he just imagining things?

To ask would ensure that she was edgy.

They weren’t bringing up that night. At least not until some of the burrs had been worn down enough for them to do so with a shrug or a chuckle at their immature behavior.

Feeling the tension growing in him, he went over his final eighteen veterinarian applicant choices one last time. Sage would be contacting them all by email to start the paperwork process as soon as her meetings with him were through for the day.

He knew to redirect unproductive thoughts with issues of importance to him. Most particularly with emotional attachment—like him getting his life back a hell of a lot sooner than he’d ever even hoped could be possible.

Life back meant finding a new home.

Which brought him back to the beach. And the possibility of buying the still-dilapidated cabin at the end of the road.

He spiraled down from there. Found himself staring into space—gaze pointed directly at Sage—a fact he noticed only when she said, “Is something wrong?”

Unhinging, he dug deep and blurted, “I couldn’t go to my junior prom.”

Flipping wonderful. Way to save the day.

Sage’s frown was full-blown and filled with confusion. “What?” He wanted to smooth the lines from her forehead. And kiss those lips again. For a long time. As he had the other night.

He quickly jumped to the most recent thoughts that would counteract the inappropriate desire surging through him. “I was just thinking about my prom,” he said then, instilling as much casualness into the words as he could muster. Hoping it was enough. “I was lost in space, and you asked what was wrong,” he continued, as though they were discussing bubble gum machines.

Nodding, Sage’s expression cleared, wiping away those lines he’d seen himself soothing. “So, why couldn’t you go to your junior prom?”

“My grandmother wasn’t well. She had a lot of things wrong, some things that flared up unexpectedly. A neighbor, who’d been a good friend of hers for years, would come over during the school day, if there were issues, but she worked nights, caring for an older woman in her home, and there was no one else but me.”

He heard how ridiculous he sounded. A grown man, spilling his guts like a teenager, but the feelings he was invoking inside himself were doing the trick. A bit of humiliation was well worth that.

“So...you thought you were going, but she had a flare-up?” Sage’s expression had taken on her lawyer-at-work look. Interested. Concerned.

But professional.

He welcomed it. Felt success in his grasp.

“Yeah,” he said. “There was this girl in my English class...”

“Trina? The one who turned out to be suspicious and possessive and started showing up at your locker at school, and at your house and calling you to see if you were home when you said you would be?”

He’d forgotten he’d told her that part. It had been early in their relationship, when they’d talked about dates they’d had that had gone wrong. About things they didn’t want in a relationship.

He hadn’t mentioned his abhorrence at the idea of having kids. Hadn’t mentioned children at all. No, he’d talked about not wanting to feel like he was being stalked.

He gave his standard nod. “Yep, that’s the one.” And because he couldn’t afford not to, he continued. “I asked her to prom, she accepted. It would have been our first date. But I couldn’t go.”

If he had, maybe he’d have found out sooner how desperately possessive the young woman had been. At a dance, with all the other classmates there, dressed to the nines...he’d have wanted to hang out with them. Trina had been big on it always just being the two of them.

Which mattered not at all. He was digging deep for emotional triggers that would keep him away from thoughts of reacquainting himself with Sage Martin’s body.

The woman was frowning again. Shook her head. “And you were lost in thought about this now?”

One more nod.

“Why?”

Well, now, that part wasn’t for the sharing.

He glanced over at her, still standing behind her desk from where she’d risen to reach the applicants folder. Standing above him.

Much like she’d stood above him in the sand...

And it hit him. Bringing up the prom...he was more on task than he’d realized. Was just taking some time to get up to speed with himself. It was the exact topic they needed.

Him coming clean. Out loud. To the one person who most needed—most deserved—the rotten part of his truth.