Her Hometown Hero (Page 73)

He lifted her onto the counter and pulled her against him. Her robe had parted, allowing her to feel how much she stirred him. With his fingers in her hair, he kissed her again before drawing back.

“You don’t need to think. You just need to feel. What do you feel, Sage? What do you want?”

It took all his restraint to keep from undoing his jeans and plunging inside her. He could take her right now, light her on fire. But he didn’t want just her body—he wanted her heart.

She breathed heavily as he pressed against her, but her lips stayed sealed. “I don’t understand how you can do nothing but look at me. I’m trying to give you everything,” he said, frustration pushing him to act almost irrationally. When she still said nothing, he lost what little cool he had left.

“This was a mistake,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have come over.” He turned, upset with himself for caving in to his urges. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He already knew they had no trouble in the sex department. He’d proven nothing by doing it.

“I’m just confused, Spence. I’m so confused,” she cried out as he reached the door, making him turn. He said nothing as he waited for her to continue.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like to feel out of control. I don’t like not knowing what will happen next. I’ve never felt this way before. It’s not me. It’s not pleasant. I . . . please understand.”

Love shone in her eyes, but fear was its companion. She wasn’t afraid of him—it was herself she feared.

“Then I’ll give you time.” But maybe it wouldn’t work out after all. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to love him as much as he loved her. The very thought sent sharp pains through him, body and soul. He left the apartment not knowing what the future would hold.

He was at the bottom of the stairs when her door opened and he heard his name. He looked up to see Sage standing there.

“I love you, Spence, but . . . but it’s just not enough.”

The door shut, the click of the lock echoing down the stairs.

Spence bounded to the top of the stairs before he halted in his tracks. Even if he pounded on the door, woke all the neighbors, and demanded she come out, he knew she wouldn’t open it again. But she’d called after him. She hadn’t let him just leave.

She’d given him . . . hope. She loved him. Joy coursed through him at the realization. Yes, it was enough; yes, she would be his. His plans were back on, and he had no doubt that the future Mrs. Whitman was going to be his forever. Running a hand over the stubble on his jaw, he laughed aloud as he descended the stairs and got into his truck.

Ravenously hungry for the first time since their fight a few days ago, he headed to the local diner. A hearty breakfast followed by some phone calls and everything would be back to normal. Picking up his phone, he pressed in the familiar numbers.

“Dad, I need your help.”

“You said what to him?”

Her grandmother was staring at her as if she’d grown three heads and was spitting fire. Sage felt ashamed and didn’t understand why. It wasn’t her grandmother who had the right to be upset; it was her.

“You were meddling in my life in a way that really wasn’t okay, Grandma. I’m all confused now, and I don’t know what is happening. I did what I had to do.” Sage clutched her cup of hot chocolate so hard she was surprised the cup didn’t shatter. It would almost be a good thing if that were to happen. At least then her hand would hurt instead of her heart.

“He’s perfect for you. And he wants to marry you. Instead of running away, you should embrace him, give him your heart.”

“I won’t even bother to discuss what you did to my career—and, perhaps, to his. The point here is that it’s my heart to give or keep, Grandma. It’s not right for people to interfere,” she said more sternly than she’d ever spoken to her grandma before. When Bethel winced, Sage felt about two inches tall. “I’m sorry,” she said. This had been a bad idea.

Bethel sniffled. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Sage repeated.

“What is wrong with him? Did he hurt you? Was he rude? Should I have his father take him out to the woodshed? A boy is never too old for that.”

“No, Grandma,” Sage gasped in horror. “He’s been a perfect gentleman. And the Whitmans don’t even own a woodshed.”

“Well, then, what’s the problem? If he loves you and you love him, why be confused?” she asked, her eyes gleaming, making Sage suspect her shattered look had been nothing but an act.

If Sage had been sure about that, she might have called her grandma out. But if the woman was truly upset, Sage didn’t want to make it worse.

“I know it was hard for you when you lost your parents,” Bethel said. “It was hard for me, too, darling. I raised your father, loved him more than anyone in this world. You know I wasn’t blessed with another child. And then, when he married your mother, I got a daughter. Losing them tore me apart. The only reason I kept on standing was because I had you to look after. Situations in life happen for a reason—I’m sure of that. Being afraid doesn’t help. Don’t be so fearful that you miss out on something great.” Bethel placed her warm hand gently over Sage’s clenched fingers, giving the young woman no choice but to unclench them.

“I just don’t like being pushed. I don’t like someone else deciding my fate. I’m an adult now, and maybe I’m just not ready to get married—to commit myself to one person for the rest of my life.” Sage needed her grandma to understand it was her decision, and hers alone.